CHAPTER LII
THE WHOLE TRUTH
"She must have been one of the Vassilitzis, and therefore Anne's nearkinswoman," Pendennis said slowly. "You say she was often spoken of asAnna Petrovna? That explains nothing, for Petrovna is of course a verycommon family name in Russia. 'The daughter of Peter' it really means,and it is often used as a familiar form of address, just as in Scotlanda married woman is often spoken of by her friends by her maiden name. Mywife was called Anna Petrovna. But you say this unhappy woman's name wasgiven as 'Vassilitzi Pendennis'? That I cannot understand! It isimpossible that she could be my daughter; that the mad lady from Siberiacould have been my wife,--and yet--my God--if that should be true, afterall!
"They did send me word, and I believed it at the moment, though later Ithought it was a trick to get me--and Anne--into their power,--part of along-delayed scheme of revenge."
His face was white as death, with little beads of sweat on the forehead,and his hands shook slightly; though he showed no other signs ofemotion.
"Treherne told you the truth about my marriage, Mr. Wynn," he continued,raising his voice a little, and looking at me with stern, troubled eyes."Until you spoke of him I had almost forgotten his existence! But hedid not know quite everything. The one point on which I and my dear wifewere at variance was her connection with this fatal League. Yes, it wasin existence then; and I was--I suppose I still am, in a way--a memberof it; though I only became one in order that I might protect my wife asfar as possible. After she died and I was banished from Russia, Isevered myself from it for many years, until a few months ago, when Ireceived a communication to the effect that my wife was still alive;that she had been released and restored to her relatives,--to herbrother Stepan, I supposed. He had always hated me, but he loved herwell, though he managed to make his escape at the time she was taken."
"But Stepan Vassilitzi is a young man,--younger than I am," Iinterrupted.
"He is the son; the father died some years back, though I only learnedthat after I returned to Russia. I started at once; that was how youmissed me when you came to Berlin. I sent first to the old chateau nearWarsaw, which had been the principal residence of the Vassilitzis. But Ifound it in possession of strangers; it had been confiscated in '81, andnothing was known of the old family beyond the name. I wasted severaldays in futile inquiries and then went on to Petersburg, where I got incommunication with some of the League. I had to execute the utmostcaution, as you will understand, but I found out that a meeting was tobe held at a place I knew of old,--the ruined chapel,--and that AnnaPetrovna was to be there,--my wife, as I supposed.
"The rest of that episode you know. The moment I saw Anne brought out Irealized, or thought I did, for I am not so sure now, that it was atrap. That big, rough-looking man who carried Anne off--"
"He was the Grand Duke Loris."
"So I guessed when you spoke of him just now; and at the time I knew, ofcourse, that he was not what he appeared, for he didn't act up to hisdisguise."
"He did when it was necessary!" I said emphatically, remembering how hehad slanged the hotel servant that evening at Petersburg.
"Well, he said enough to convince me that I was right, though why heshould trouble himself on our behalf I couldn't imagine.
"We hadn't gone far when we heard firing, and halted to listen. We helda hurried consultation, and I told him briefly who we were. He seemedutterly astounded; and now I understand why,--he evidently had thoughtAnne was that other. He decided that we should be safer if we remainedin the woods till all was quiet, and then make our way to Petersburg andclaim protection at the English Embassy.
"We went on again; Anne was still insensible, and he insisted oncarrying her,--till we came to a charcoal burner's hut. He told us tostay there till a messenger came who would guide us to the road, where acarriage would be in waiting to take us to Petersburg.
"He left us then, and I have never seen him since. But he kept his word,though it was nearly a week before the messenger came,--a big, surlyman, very lame, as the result of a recent accident, I think."
"Mishka!" I exclaimed.
"He would not tell his name, and said very little one way or the other,but he took us to the carriage, and we reached the city withouthindrance. Anne was in a dazed condition the whole time,--partly, nodoubt, as a result of the drugs which those scoundrels who kidnapped herand brought her to Russia had administered. She knew me, but everythingelse was almost a blank to her, as it still is. She has only a faintrecollection of the whole affair.
"I secured a passport for her and we started at once, though she wasn'tfit to travel, and the journey nearly killed her. We ought to havestopped as soon as we were over the frontier, but I wanted to get as faraway from Russia as possible. She just held out till we got to Berlin,and then broke down altogether--my poor child!
"I ought to have written to Mrs. Cayley, I know; but I never gave athought to it till Anne began to recover--"
"That's all right; Mary understood, and she's forgiven the omission longago," Jim interposed. "But, I say, Pendennis, I was right, after all! Ialways stuck out that it was a case of mistaken identity, though youwouldn't believe me!"
Pendennis nodded.
"The woman from Siberia--what was she like?" he demanded, turning againto me.
"I can't say. I only saw her from a distance, and for a minute or so," Ianswered evasively. "She was tall and white-haired."
I was certain in my own mind that she was his wife, for I'd heard thewords she called out,--his name, "An-thony," not the French "Antoine,"but as a foreigner would pronounce the English word,--but I should onlyadd to his distress if I told him that.
"Well, it remains a mystery; and one that I suppose we shall neverunravel," he said heavily, at last.
But it was unravelled for us, and that before many weeks had passed.
One dark afternoon just before Christmas I dropped in for a few minutes,as I generally contrived to do before going down to the office; for Iwas on the _Courier_ again temporarily.
Anne and her father were still the Cayleys' guests; for Mary wouldn'thear of their going to an hotel, and they had only just found a flatnear at hand to suit them. Having at last returned to England, AnthonyPendennis had decided to remain. He'd had enough, at last, of wanderingaround the Continent!
Mary had other callers in the drawing-room, so I turned into Jim'sstudy, where Anne joined me in a minute or so,--Anne, who, in a fewshort months, would be my wife.
The front-door bell rang, and voices sounded in the lobby; but though Iheard, I didn't heed them, until Anne held up her hand.
"Hush! Who is Marshall talking to?"
The prim maid was speaking in an unusually loud voice; shouting, infact, as English folk always do when they're addressing a foreigner,--asif that would make them more intelligible.
A moment later she came in, looking flustered, and closed the door.
"There's a foreign man outside, sir, and I think he's asking for you;but I can't make out half he says,--not even his name, though it soundslike Miskyploff!"
"Mishka!" I shouted, making for the door.
Mishka it was, grim, gaunt, and travel-stained; and as he gripped myhands I knew, without a word spoken, that Loris was dead.
I led him in, and he started slightly when he saw Anne, who stared athim with a queer expression of half-recognition. She knew who he was,for I had told her a good deal about him; though we had all agreed itwas quite unnecessary that she should know the whole story of myexperiences in Russia; there were a lot of details I'd never given evento her father and Jim.
She recovered herself almost instantly, and held out her hand to himwith a gracious smile, saying in German:
"Welcome to England, Herr Pavloff! I have heard much of you, and havemuch to thank you for."
He bowed clumsily over the hand, with the deference due to a princess,and watched her as she passed out of the room, his rugged face strangelysoftened.
"So, she is safe, after all," he said when the
door was closed. "We allhoped so, but we did not know; that is one reason why you were nevertold. For if she were dead what need to tell you; and also--but I willcome to that later. There is a marvellous resemblance; but it is oftenso with twins."
"_Twins!_" I ejaculated; and yet I think I'd known it, at the back ofmy mind, ever since the night of my return to England; only Pendennishad spoken so decidedly about his only child. "Why, Herr Pendennishimself doesn't know that!"
"No, it was kept from him,--from the first. It is all old history now,though I learned it within these last few months, chiefly from Natalya.It was her doing,--hers, and the old Count's, Stepan's father. The oldCount had always resented the marriage; he hated Herr Pendennis, hisbrother-in-law, as much as he loved his sister. Herr Pendennis was awayin England when the children were born; and that increased the Count'sbitterness against him. He thought he should have hastened back,--aswithout doubt he should have done! It was but a few days later that theyoung mother was arrested, and, ill as she was, they took her away toprison in a litter. The Count got timely warning, and made his escape.It was impossible for his sister to accompany him; also he did notbelieve they would arrest her, in her condition, and as she was the wifeof an Englishman. He should have known that Russians are without pity ormercy!"
"But the child! He could not take a week-old baby with him, if he had tofly for his life."
"No, Natalya did that. She escaped to the Ghetto and took the baby withher,--and young Stepan, who was then a lad of six years. There was greatconfusion at the chateau, and the few who knew that two children wereborn doubtless believed one had died.
"For the rest, Natalya remained in the Ghetto for some three years, andthen rejoined the Count at the old house near Ziscky,--the huntinglodge. It was all he had left; though he had patched up a peace with theGovernment. He had friends at Court in those days.
"You know what the child became. He trained her deliberately to that endas long as he lived; taught her also that her father deserted her andher mother in the hour of need,--left them to their fate. It was a cruelrevenge to take."
"It was!" I said emphatically. "But when did she learn she had asister?"
"That I do not know. I think it was not long before she came to Englandlast; she had often been here before, for brief visits only. She came onthe yacht then, with my master; it was their honeymoon, and we had beencruising for some weeks,--the only peaceful time she had ever had in herlife. He wished her never to return to Russia; to go with him to SouthAmerica, or live in England. But she would not; she loved him, yes, butshe loved the Cause more; it was her very life, her soul!
"The yacht lay off Greenwich for the night; she meant to land next day,and come up to see Selinski. She had never happened to meet him, thoughhe was one of the Five."
"Selinski! Cassavetti! Mishka, it was not she who murdered him!"
"No, it was Stepan Vassilitzi who killed him, and he deserved it, thehound! I had somewhat to do with it also; for I had come to London inadvance, and was to rejoin the yacht that night. Near the bridge atWestminster whom should I meet but Yossof, whom I thought to be inRussia; and he told me that which made me bundle him into a cab anddrive straight to Greenwich.
"The Countess Anna--she was Grand Duchess then, though we neveraddressed her so--made her plan speedily, as she ever did. She slippedaway, with only her cousin Stepan and I. My master did not know. Hethought she was in her cabin after dinner.
"We rowed swiftly up the river,--the tide was near flood,--and I waitedin the boat while they went to Selinski's; Yossof had given them thekey. They found his paper, with all the evidences of his treachery tothe League and to her. Selinski came in at the moment when their taskwas finished, and Stepan stabbed him to the heart. It was not her wish;she would have spared him, vile though he was! Well, it is all one now.They are all gone; she and Stepan,--and my master--"
"He is dead, then?"
"Should I be here if he were living? No, they did not kill him. I thinkhe really died when she did,--that his soul passed, as it were, withhers; though he made no sign, as you know. I found him,--it is more thana week since,--in the early morning, sitting at the table where she usedto write, his head on his arms,--so. He was dead and cold,--and Ithanked God for it. There was a smile on his face--"
His deep voice broke for the first time, and he sat silent for aspace,--and I did.
"And so,--I came away," he resumed presently. "I have come to you,because he loved you. It was not his wish, but hers, that you should bedeceived, made use of. I think she felt it as a kind of justice thatshe should press you into the service of the Cause,--as she meant to dofrom the moment she heard of you. And it was quite easy, since you neversuspected that she was not the Fraulein you knew, and loved--_hein_? Sheherself, too, had borne the burden so long, had toiled, and schemed, andsuffered for the Cause; while this sister had always been shielded; knewnothing, cared nothing for the Cause,--though, indirectly, she hadsuffered somewhat through that mistake on the part of Selinski'saccomplices. Therefore this sister should give her lover to the Cause;that was the thought in her mind, I am sure. She was wrong; but we mustnot judge her too harshly, my friend!"
"God forbid!" I said huskily.
* * * * *
All that was over a year ago, and now, my task done, I sit at mywriting-table by a western window and watch the sun, a clear red ball,sink into the Atlantic. We are at Pencarrow, for Anthony Pendennis hasat last returned to his own house. He is my father-in-law now, for Anneand I were married in the spring, and returned after a long honeymoon toPencarrow. We found Mishka settled on a farm near, as much at home thereas if he had lived in England all his life. He speaks English quitecreditably,--with a Cornish accent,--and I hear that it won't be longbefore the farm has a mistress, a plump, bright-eyed widow who is goingto change her present name of Stiddyford for that of Pavloff.
We are quite a family party just now, for Jim and Mary Cayley and thebaby,--a smart little chap; I'm his godfather,--have come down to spendEaster; and Mr. and Mrs. Treherne will drive over from Morwen vicarage,for Mary's matchmaking in that direction panned out exactly as shewished.
All is well with us,--pleasant and peaceful, and homelike,--and yet--
I look at a miniature that lies on the table before me, and my minddrifts back to the unforgettable past. I am far away from Pencarrow,when--some one comes behind my chair; a pair of soft hands are laid overmy eyes.
"Dreaming or working,--which?" laughs Anne.
I take the hands in mine, and draw her down till she has her chin on myshoulder, her soft cheek against my face.
The dusk is falling, but through it she sees the glint of the diamondson the table,--and pulls her hands away.
"You have been thinking of those dreadful days in Russia again!" shesays reproachfully, with a queer little catch in her voice. "Why don'tyou forget them altogether, Maurice? Let me put this in the drawer. Ihate to look at it,--to see you looking at it!"
She picks up the miniature, gently enough, slips it into a drawer, andturns the key.
"I--I know it's horrid of me, darling, but I can't help it," shewhispers, kneeling beside me, her fair face upturned,--a face crownedonce more with a wealth of bright hair, which she dresses in a differentway now, and I'm glad of that. It makes her look less like her deadsister.
_Some one comes behind my chair._ Page 354]
"I know how--she--suffered, and--and I'm not bitter against her,really," she continues rapidly. "But when I think of all we had tosuffer because of her, I--I can't quite forgive her, or--or forget thatyou loved her once; though you thought you were loving me all the time!"
"I did love you all the time, sweetheart," I assure her, and that istrue; but it is true also that I still love that dead woman as I lovedher in life; not as I love Anne, my wife, but as the page loved thequeen.
I shall never tell that to Anne, though. She would not understand.
THE END
The Red Symbol Page 54
