Guilty Bonds

I need not dwell upon the fearful suspense and mental torture in which that night was spent. Suffice it to say it was a period that seemed interminable, for my heart was racked by an intensity of emotion which can scarcely be conceived. The sight of Vera, in all her bewitching loveliness of old when we passed those happy days at Genoa, had awakened, with a thousand-fold energy, my love. Deceived as I imagined myself to have been, the one absorbing passion of my existence had still lived, in spite of all attempts to smother and subdue it by reason’s aid. One word from Vera, one look from those eyes into my own, had again laid me a captive at her feet, although I despised – hated – myself for what seemed mere weakness.

I knew it was a farce to seek an explanation, for, whatever it might be, I was ready to accept it. My heart could not be hardened against Vera. And then, should she in verity explain the mystery which hung around us both, that would mean the dawn of better days and brighter hopes.

Chapter Seventeen

The Terrace, Richmond

With a beating heart and a firm determination to be strong, I was ushered on the following afternoon into the drawing-room of one of that terrace of large houses that stand on the summit of Richmond Hill, overlooking what was at that time the grounds of Buccleuch House, but which have lately been thrown open as public gardens.

It was a pleasant room, the windows of which commanded a fine view of the picturesque valley, where, deep down, the river, like a silvery streak, winds in and out the mass of foliage. Undoubtedly it is the prettiest scene within many miles of London, and that day Father Thames was looking his best in the glories of a setting sun, whose rays now gilded the sail of a tiny craft dropping down with the tide, and anon lighted up some snorting tug or shrieking pleasure-launch.

Scarcely had I time to glance round when the door opened and Vera entered.

She looked even more lovely than I had ever before seen her, dressed in a tea-gown of cream lace over vieux rose satin, with a loose front and train, showing the pale rose satin lining, her waist being encircled by a curious girdle. It suited her admirably, and as she walked across the room with a smile of glad welcome upon her lips and her hand outstretched, I confess my heart was softened towards her.

There was an indefinable air – it might be of anxiety about her, however, as if she were afraid that what she had to say would not be convincing to me; and it was plainly to be seen that she, too, had spent a night of sleeplessness.

“Well, Frank, we have met again – you did not forget your promise,” she said, in those soft tones I loved to hear, speaking slowly, perhaps timidly.

We seated ourselves in silence. I dared not yet trust myself to speak.

“Last night I said I would give you the reason of my apparent fourberie.”

She paused, and toyed with her rings. She was waiting for me to answer.

“Yes,” I said; “I am listening.”

She looked up hastily; my voice was not encouraging.

“It was imperative Frank, that you should be sent to Petersburg – and – it was for your own sake – ”

“For my sake!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, Frank,” she replied; “and it was only for that and for your future happiness and our – ” she paused, while a vivid blush mantled her handsome features.

“Our what?” I demanded, almost rudely.

“I must not say, dearest; but this you might know – that no harm was intended for you in any proceeding in which I had a hand.”

“That is no answer, Vera,” I said, somewhat sternly. “You say this was for ‘our’ something, and for my future happiness! What does it all mean, and why this mystery? I’m tired of it. If you cannot explain, why ask me to call upon you?”

“Because, Frank – because I feel sure you would forgive me everything, could you know all.”

“Is there a reason, then, that you will make no explanation?”

“Yes, a most important one. If I could, I would tell you – but I cannot,” she said.

“Yet you were aware of my arrest, my imprisonment without trial, and transportation?”

“True. I knew of your arrest an hour after it had taken place.”

“And it was you who planned my escape?”

“It was. Had I not been successful, you would now be working in the Kara silver mines, enduring that living death which is a worse punishment than the gallows,” she replied, shuddering.

“For your timely assistance in that matter I must thank you,” I said. “Yet it is only fair that I should know the nature of my unknown offence, and the reason of my arrest I presume you are aware of it?”

“No, do not thank me, Frank. It was in my power to help you, and I did so. It was but my duty.”

“But why was I imprisoned?” I asked.

“That I cannot tell you.”

“Surely I have a right to demand an explanation, and if you do not tell me I shall place the matter before the English Consul, who will, perhaps, be able to fathom it,” I observed.