“I know he isn’t,” he replied, and I continued: “It is very strange that he should disappear so absolutely and for so long a time.”
“Yes, very strange!” he said; and I went on: “When you do hear from him, whether for good or bad, will you let me know?”
“Certainly,” he said; and added: “You have not forgotten him, I see.”
“No,” I answered. “I shall never forget him. If I have said less of him during this visit to your city, it is because so many exciting things have taken place. You remember the messages I gave you for him?”
“Yes!”
“You will give them to him?”
“Yes; and shall I tell him that, if he were a free man among men, you might possibly listen to his suit, if he cared to press it?”
“No—oh, no!” I said, quickly, feeling as I never had before that Nicol’s place had been taken by the man before me, and between whom and myself there could never be anything but friendship.
“I am sorry for Nicol,” he said; “and now you must go; but you will come again?”
I nodded negatively, as I gave him my hand, which he held till the last moment; and I felt his warm clasp long after our train had left the city and we were plunging into the snow and ice which lined our way to the frontier. As we crossed it and shook off the Russian soil or snow from our feet, I said, “Thank God!” with more fervency than I had done before when I left the country behind me.