At the appointed hour the next morning, one of the royal carriages stopped before the door of the gaol, and Madame Bruics and Nadia came out and took their places inside. Cyril occupied the seat opposite them, acting, as Nadia felt, more as guard than as escort. Madame Bruics was fortunately sleepy and disinclined to talk, and they drove on in silence until they were about to pass the palace. With a sudden impulse Nadia bent forward and looked out of the window—to take a last look at the place which held Caerleon. But when they came abreast of the small private gate, she started, for beside it there stood in the winter twilight a tall figure wrapped in a cloak. With a gasp Nadia realised that Caerleon was there,—that a word, a sign, would bring him to her, would end the long struggle in the way in which her heart ached for it to end.
“How did the beggar manage to find out when we were starting?” asked Cyril of himself with lively disgust, for the moment was a crucial one. He was equal to it, however. “You see him?” he whispered to Nadia. “You will give in now, I know.”
She turned away from him impatiently, feeling even then a mingled shame and surprise that she could choose to wring Caerleon’s heart rather than allow his brother to triumph over her. Her eyes met Caerleon’s, and he stepped forward eagerly. For one moment she looked into his face, saw its expression of earnest entreaty change to one of disappointment, and read in it that her decision was accepted, as it was given, in silence. She waved her hand to him as he drew back, the carriage passed on, and he was left standing by the roadside, without a word said.
CHAPTER XIX.
PILGRIMS PERFORCE.
The long journey on which Nadia’s unflinching determination had embarked her was performed alternately by road and rail until Boloszjen was reached, but from that point it was possible to find a train running directly to Pavelsburg. At Boloszjen Cyril parted from the travellers, after seeing them safely into their carriage. Since leaving Bellaviste, Nadia had not exchanged a single word with him that was not absolutely necessary, for the hatred she had frankly avowed to him during their interview at the gaol had not been diminished by the taunt which had finally sealed Caerleon’s fate, but now she put aside her dislike sufficiently to make an appeal to him on behalf of poor old Madame Bruics, who was to return alone from the Scythian frontier. Precluded by her deafness from receiving either advice or warning, unless these were tendered in writing, the old lady would be quite helpless if left to herself, and Nadia told Cyril that it was his duty to send Wright to escort her and bring her home. Such plain speaking was rather a bitter pill for Cyril, who was wont to pride himself on his foresight and tactful consideration, and felt that in this case especially he had done more than any one could have expected of him; but he recognised the cruelty involved in sending poor Madame Bruics upon a wild-goose chase over the railways of Central Europe, and put the crowning touch to his self-abnegation by depriving Caerleon of Wright’s services for some days longer. He parted from Nadia in a polite and hostile manner—that is to say, she did not offer to shake hands with him, and he went away marvelling at the uncharitableness of some people.
Wright as an escort was much more to Nadia’s taste than his master had been, although he considered it his duty to come to the window of the carriage at every station and inquire whether the ladies would like some tea—for tea, in his opinion, was the only refreshment acceptable to the feminine mind, and as such, was capable of being imbibed at all hours and at very short intervals. When they reached the Scythian frontier, and Nadia, to her great joy, had discovered Marie Karlovna, a German lady belonging to her godmother’s household, waiting to meet her, she commended Madame Bruics to Wright’s care with great earnestness, although he viewed her solicitude as impassively as he did the coin which she ventured to slip into his hand, and at which he glanced immediately in order to ascertain its value. But when she had seen Madame Bruics established in the return train, and was turning away with Marie Karlovna, she heard footsteps behind her, and looking round, found Wright close at hand.
“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said, in a low voice and with great embarrassment, “but don’t you go for to take on about the King. ’E always rides straight, ’e do—not like some people as ought to know better and doesn’t; and ’e knows ’is own mind, and as some poetry chap says, ‘’Is ’eart is always true.’”
For a moment after the utterance of this sentiment, the presumptuous groom felt ready to sink into the earth under the combined weight of his own daring and the glance which Nadia turned on him, but while he was wondering apprehensively whether she would give him in charge on the spot or write to Lord Cyril to complain of his conduct, the fire died out of her eyes, and she said gently—
“Thank you, Wright. I know quite well that what you say of the King is true. He is the best of men, and nothing of all that has happened is his fault.”
Wright touched his hat and retired, red in the face but with a clear conscience, deciding in his honest mind that Miss O’Malachy would make a sight better wife for ’is Majesty than that there princess would ’ave done, and that he ’oped he might one day ’ave the honour of trainin’ a ’orse for ’er to ride. And Nadia looked after his short sturdy figure with something like affection, not unmingled with envy, for he loved Caerleon, and he was going back to him now. She was leaving him farther and farther behind as she travelled on to Pavelsburg with Marie Karlovna, who had evidently received strict orders not to tease her with questions, for she talked exclusively of the great conference of members of different evangelical denominations which had recently been held in the city, and of other matters interesting to the supporters of the Cercle Evangélique. At last the capital was reached, and Nadia saw awaiting her on the platform a tall stout elderly lady, carelessly dressed, with her abundant grey hair surmounted by a ludicrously unfashionable bonnet. If these personal characteristics had not been sufficient of themselves to identify Princess Soudaroff, other evidence would have been furnished by the almost adoring reverence with which she was surrounded by the minor officials of the railway, among whom she had worked for years. But Nadia needed no such additional help. She could scarcely wait for the door of the carriage to be opened, but precipitated herself down the steps and into her godmother’s arms.