"Hélas, yes. I am in the worst kind of trouble that exists for a Russian. I am in political trouble—and that entails everything else."
"Tell me all about it," said she. "Perhaps I may help you."
"Ah no! you cannot help. It is not for that I am come. I have a confession to make that concerns you."
"Well?" said she, with a smile. She did not suppose it could be anything very bad.
"You will be angry, of course," he said, "but that is nothing. I have done you an injury that I cannot repair."
"Enfin, my dear Nicholas, tell me. I do not believe anything bad of you."
"You are kindness itself, and I thank you in advance. Wait till you have heard. I am 'suspect,'—they think I am a Nihilist I am exiled to the mines, and everything is confiscated. Voilà! Could it be worse?"
Margaret was taken off her guard. She had herself been in more than easy circumstances at the time of her marriage, but the financial crisis in America, which occurred soon after that event, had greatly crippled her resources. She had of late looked chiefly to her jointure for all the luxuries which were so necessary to her life. To find this suddenly gone, in a moment, without the slightest preparation, was extremely embarrassing. She covered her eyes with one hand for a moment to collect her thoughts and to try and realise the extent of the disaster. Nicholas mistook the gesture.
"You will never forgive me, I know. I do not deserve that you should. But I will do all in my power to repair the evil. I will go to Siberia if they will consider your rights to the estate."
Margaret withdrew her hand, and looked earnestly at the young man.