“We owe that to your father, the Count,” said the Princess; “he had the foresight to know and the courage to act. Without him and Mr. Morton we should certainly have perished.”
They were glad they were alone, and when the attendant came to tell them that their sleeping berths were ready, they lay down with thankful prayers in their hearts and on their lips. God had been good to them—the poor, helpless, defenseless girls!
The early forenoon of the succeeding day saw the train glide slowly into the brightly lit and imposing terminal at Vienna. It had scarcely come to a stop when Morton appeared at the door of the compartment with a tall and distinguished gentleman, who was introduced as Mr. Tyler, the American Minister to Germany. He told the ladies that Mr. Tyler would see them to their hotel and look after them. He himself had much to do and with very little time in which to do it. He was leaving for England that very afternoon. He promised to call on them later at the hotel.
With a courtesy that is now, alas, rarer than it once was, Mr. Tyler placed himself at the entire disposal of the Princess and Helène. They soon realized that there were gentlemen in America as well as in Europe. He drove with them to the “Bristol,” where they were already expected. Morton had telegraphed for rooms from Hermanstadt. Here maids were assigned to them, and their every requirement attended to, while Mr. Tyler waited for them in the foyer. He had been requested by Morton to take them around the shops and see that they were amply supplied with everything they might need, so that when they came down to him he was ready for them. He acquitted himself admirably, and the girls enjoyed their shopping to the full, as only girls can. On their return to the hotel, they found a telegram from Brindisi, which had been opened and sent on by Morton, instructing them to carry out the original program laid out for them, and to travel by quickest route to Weimar, where they were expected, and where they would be well taken care of. Helène breathed a sigh of great relief. The telegram must be from her father. Then he was alive, and, therefore, well. God be thanked!
When Morton called to make his adieux, he was an altogether changed man. The Princess, who saw him first, scarcely recognized in the elegantly dressed and formally polite gentleman before her, the rough leader of the men of Padina. Her first impulse was to return his formality with a like show of dignity; but her heart was too full. Approaching him with outstretched hand, she said in a voice drowned with emotion:
“I cannot thank you, Mr. Morton, for all that you have done. I may never forget it. But you will, I know, understand my feelings. I am deeply, heartfully grateful.”
Morton smiled and bowed: “Your Highness, you over-estimate my poor services. I have been honored in your trust. I shall carry with me to my own country the beautiful memory of a noble lady.”
She extended her hand to him, and as he bowed over it and kissed it softly, she said:
“I hope I may have the pleasure of seeing you at Weimar, Mr. Morton. I shall be proud to make you known to my people.”
Morton thanked her and bowed himself out. He was glad that parting was over when he was again in the little salon. It was the other parting which he now awaited that filled him with emotion and fear. He walked to and fro with quick, nervous steps, thinking of what he should say when he saw her. He wished it were over so that he might get away—the sooner he went the sooner he could come back. As he had begun, so he would finish. He had engaged himself in a dangerous enterprise for Helène’s sake, moved to it by a mere face in a picture; but now that he had seen and come to know her very self, his whole being clamored for her love. Nothing should come between her and him, once he was assured of his father’s health. If only he could wait until he had fulfilled his duties to his dear ones at home! Ah, then, he would come back on wings and claim her, if—if—she would have it so. God grant that he had found favor in her eyes!