He answered sadly: "Mon enfant, I know no more."
[CHAPTER IV.]
MOSCOW.
Mind's command o'er mind,
Spirit o'er spirit's, is the close effect
And natural action of an inward gift
Given of God.
Laura was much better the next day; indeed, the improvement was so great that her protector considered himself justified in pressing on for another stage of their journey. She was not so joyful as might have been expected. Perhaps his parable had calmed the little girl, making her impatience less by the hint of possible separation. Laura cared very much for her friend. She had become so united to him in thought and affection that she could scarcely imagine a future without him. We must remember that with little ones, especially when their natures are impressionable like Laura's, it does not take long for these attachments to be formed. With them habit passes quickly into a necessity. It was thus with Laura. She had become so accustomed to her friend's protecting tenderness that she could not bear to think of being separated from him. But Laura was not untrue to her mother. She thought as much as ever of her return to the little cottage by the sea. Only in thus far her dreams and ideas were changed. She could not and would not think of that return, of those pleasant days when mamma would be happy and papa at home, without including in them all this kind guide who was planning their happiness.
Her friend's look at the end of his tale had been so sad that she dared not ask for an explanation, and indeed her own little heart had been almost too full of sympathy with the bereaved star-spirit for her to think of much else at the moment. But to this one thing in her after reflections Laura made up her mind: her friend should go back with her to her mother, he should not look so sad, they would make him as happy as they would be. In fact, the child mapped out the future, as many of her elders will do, in those long days of travelling that succeeded their stay in Vienna.
They were very long and very wearisome, unbroken by incident of any kind; the very passengers became few, and the towns scattered as they advanced. It was not difficult to get a carriage to themselves, but certainly some comforts were necessary to make the long journeys tolerable. Laura, however, had no relapse. At every possible resting-place her companion watched narrowly to see if fatigue were taking any effect upon her. He was reassured. The child slept, ate and made herself happy.
L'Estrange was not so fortunate. Anxiety, suspense, and a certain vague uneasiness of conscience concerning even this late delight—which seemed to have aroused the latent good that was in him—kept him wakeful, and by the time Moscow was nearly reached the faithful child noticed that he looked pale and ill. She told him so with a sweet womanly concern that sat strangely on her child's face. But he only smiled, and said rest would set him right. Evening had fallen on the earth when at last Moscow the long-desired dawned on the sight of the wanderers. It was from the midst of a desolate country, bleak and half cultivated, that it rose suddenly, almost, as it were, by magic, its glittering cupolas and myriad towers visible long before the city itself came in sight.
L'Estrange, who knew all about this strange appearance (he had travelled through Russia before), pointed it out to the child. Very little could have surprised Laura much at this time; she had been living ever since she had left quiet Middlethorpe in an atmosphere of wonders; but amongst them all this arrival had been looked to as something pre-eminent. For Moscow was the city where this wonderful father was hiding. Laura was fully convinced that he would be the first person they should meet in the streets, and it did not seem unnatural that Moscow itself should be strange as any of the wonders in the Arabian tales. Perhaps, Laura reasoned with herself, it was because it was so beautiful and wonderful that her father had remained there. She had heard of people who had gone to heaven, not wishing to come back, and vaguely she blent the two ideas together till the feeling in her mind was something like this: Moscow was like heaven, so beautiful and delightful that those who went there never wanted to go home again.