Rona flung her arms about her neck. "I think it is too much," she said, in a choked voice. "Let me go—let me disappear! Why should you lavish money, time, health, on me? Who am I? Nobody knows. And I have done nothing but harm. I have made them both unhappy. Give me ten pounds and let me go away and hide, and earn my own living—ah, let me!"
Her mouth was stopped with a kiss, and an injunction not to be a little fool. "I enjoy it," said Aunt Bee, with an air of evident sincerity. "I never got a chance to do a desperate thing like this before. Who would think of staid old Miss Rawson, the mainstay of the Girls' Friendly Society and the Clothing Club, telling tarradiddles to her servants, and rushing off across Europe, in defense of a helpless beauty with villains in pursuit! I feel as if I were in a book by Stanley Weyman!"
In fact, her capacity and energy carried all before them, and triumphed even over Gorham's consternation when, upon arriving in London, she found that, so far from having reached their goal, they were but at the starting-point of their journey.
The obtaining of their passport and waiting for their money delayed them in Paris for four-and-twenty hours. But they felt fairly safe, and made up their minds not to worry. They arrived at St. Petersburg absolutely without adventure, and found themselves in a spacious, well-appointed hotel, where English was spoken, and in a capital which did not seem to differ much from other foreign capitals, except in the totally unknown character of the language, and a curious Oriental feeling which seemed to hover in the air rather than to express itself in any form of which me could take note.
Miss Rawson was much inclined to plume herself upon her successful disappearance. They had written to Denzil to inform him of the step they had taken, and why. On reaching St. Petersburg, they telegraphed to him their arrival and address. If all had gone well with his journey, he should have been almost a week at Savlinsky by now, and might have important news for them.
A telegram arrived the following morning. "No news Felix. Please await letter—Denzil."
That was all. They could not tell, from its necessary brevity, whether he was displeased at their daring dash or no. But there was nothing for it but to stay on in their hotel for a week or two, until the arrival of the letter alluded to.
And in truth there was plenty to see, plenty to interest them. It disappointed Rona that the ice and snow which she had associated with the idea of Russia were absent—that the weather was fine, and, if anything, too hot to be comfortable. But this enabled them to go about and to enjoy the sights of the place.
And then their first misfortune suddenly befell them. Miss Rawson, in stepping out of a droshky, wrenched the knee which had been troubling her that summer, displacing the bone in its socket, and tearing and bruising the ligaments, so as to produce acute inflammation.
It was the kind of accident which happens one hardly knows how or why. One may get out of a cab every morning for five-and-twenty years, and the following day injure oneself seriously in so doing. The doctor called in—an English doctor was at once forthcoming—thought very gravely of it. It was a far worse matter than a simple fracture, he said. Absolute rest was the only thing possible. He used every effort to reduce the inflammation. But the pain was so great and so continuous that the patient could not obtain any sleep; and the day after the accident she was so ill that Rona was very anxious about her.