It was all quite true. The czar had been assassinated. Though he was not killed outright by the bomb which was thrown under his carriage, it was known that he was mortally injured, and could not live long. The messenger who brought the news to Sergius had started from St. Petersburg to Moscow as soon as the deed was done, being previously armed with a railway ticket and a passport, and was already on his way to the frontier, whither it was advisable for all other suspects to proceed at once, if they would escape the tremendous hue and cry which would doubtless be raised without delay.

In spite of the fact that I was the associate of conspirators, the news which elated them horrified me, and I was more than ever convinced that my rightful avocation lay among scenes of peace and domesticity. It was, therefore, all the more strange that the whole of my grown-up life so far should have been one of danger, turmoil and excitement.

Yet, as all things have their limit of prominence in the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of life, even so would that fever of existence, which is variously termed “patriotism” and “treason,” cease to influence my daily being ere long. Such, at all events, was my hope, and I no longer doubted that Sergius would at once use his utmost endeavors to escape to England.

But, for a time, it was difficult to obtrude individual interests into the jumble of excited comment in which the ever-increasing number of fresh arrivals discussed the tragedy which had taken place at St. Petersburg, and its probable effects upon the members of the Society.

“I suppose it will be no longer safe to meet here after to-day,” said a man, whom I heard addressed as Ivan Vassoffskoy, but whom I would not have recognized as the man whom I had seen with Sergius on that never-to-be-forgotten night of adventure.

“I do not think it was safe to meet here to-day,” said another, who had just arrived. “Just as I entered the passage leading round to our secret entrance I fancied that a man brushed past me, and I feel rather alarmed.”

“One of ours,” remarked Sergius.

“I think not,” was the reply, which seemed to imbue all the company with a sense of insecurity. “I challenged him in our usual way, but received no answer, as must have been the case if he had been one of us.”

“Then why did you come in if you fancied yourself followed?”

“Because I concluded that the ‘house’ was already suspected. I did retrace my steps for a few yards, but did not succeed in drawing the man away from the vicinity of the passage. This being the case, I thought it better to come in, after all, in order to warn you. It is quite possible that the passage is guarded already, and that everybody emerging from it will be arrested.”

“You did well, brother,” was the verdict of a tall, imposing man who had hitherto said little. “I had already begun to doubt the wisdom of meeting here much oftener, but was anxious to await the great event before altering our plans. As you all know, that event has taken place, and, by the terms of our oath, we are no longer a Society, although the consummation aimed at has been not our work, but the work of our brave St. Petersburg contingent. I proclaim us morally and patriotically disbanded, and absolved from all further duty or allegiance to the rules of our Brotherhood. If, in the future, it becomes necessary to give the government another severe lesson, you all know how to communicate with me, if I am still alive and in freedom, and you all know that my sole aim in life is to avenge the wrongs of the people. Before the setting of another sun some of us will be on our way to other lands, to seek that safety and freedom of speech which is denied us here. Some of us may have fallen into the hands of the tyrants, and have no longer a hope left. Others, confident that nobody suspects their connection with us, will continue to live in and about Moscow in comparative security, pursuing a life of honest toil, and always ready to afford an asylum to a patriot. But, whatever be the fate in store for us, we have nothing to reproach ourselves with, unless it be that our fight for God and our right has not been drastic enough.”

All the details of this conversation were fully explained to me by Sergius some days later, when it was no longer dangerous to speak even in whispers, as was the case while we were flying toward the frontier. But although I had not understood all that was said, I had gathered enough to know that our situation was already one of extreme peril, and I own that I felt terribly alarmed. I was also angry with myself for my husband’s sake, for I was sure that my presence could not fail to hamper his escape from Moscow. But I was not a little surprised to see how stoically all these dangerous conspirators received the news that their arrival had been watched, and that their exit was probably cut off by an outraged government at whose hands they would find little mercy.

This seeming mystery was, however, soon explained. There were, on the upper landing, and partly within the four rooms whose doors opened on to this landing, over twenty people present, none of whom appeared in the cloaks and dominos which had imparted such an awful solemnity to their meeting when I was taken captive by them. This, Sergius told me afterward, was because they knew that the catastrophe at St. Petersburg had virtually disbanded them.

“Take off your shoes, Dora,” whispered Sergius. “And don’t be alarmed, darling. Our danger is not nearly so imminent as you seem to fear. We have long expected this crisis, and have not allowed ourselves to be trapped like rats in a hole.”

While Sergius was speaking, he rapidly unlaced his boots and took them off. Greatly to my amazement I saw that all the other people present were engaged upon the same task, and I followed the general example, feeling sure that it would eventually prove to be justified, by reason.

As soon as their noise-producing foot covering was removed, all present began to throng into the bedroom I had occupied for so short a time. Some one touched a secret spring in the wainscoting, which noiselessly yielded to a slight pull given to it by Sergius, and revealed a cavernous opening into which, with whispered injunctions against making much noise, first one and then another of the conspirators disappeared with either boots or shoes in hand. One man fetched a short ladder into the room, besides a boot and a shoe, which had evidently been previously in readiness for some special purpose.

Sergius held back until all the others had passed through the secret door. Then he raised the bedroom window, which was one that opened on to the roof. His next proceeding was to throw the two shoes some distance along the flat roofs of the adjoining buildings. Then, leaving the window open, and the ladder by which he had reached it still standing, he took my hand and drew me into the space in which our companions were making cautious and laborious progress. Carefully closing the door behind us, he stooped for a moment, and I heard a sharp click, as of breaking metal.

“There,” he said, in a low tone. “It would take pursuers some time to follow us, for I have broken the spring, and that door will never yield again to gentle persuasion. Are your shoes all right?”

“Yes, I have them in my hand.”

“And your money and jewelry is already stowed in our pockets. Everything else you must sacrifice. You are unfortunate with your clothes.”

“Never mind, so long as I have you left. But why did you throw those shoes out of the window? And why did you leave the window open?”

“To lead probable pursuers off the scent, and induce them to believe that we have escaped through the window, dropping our shoes in our hurry. A couple of houses along the flat roof there is an easy means of descent to the ground, by way of out-house tops, and thence into an unfrequented back street. It will seem the most natural way in the world to escape, and while the enemy is following up the false scent we shall all be making good progress in another direction.”

“But suppose it is a false alarm, after all?”

“Listen!”

I did listen, and no longer hesitated about groping my way into the darkness beyond. For noises, loud and threatening, penetrated to my shrinking ears, and told me that the house had already been forcibly entered. Of course the doors had been locked behind us, and I could hear that these were being beaten down with heavy weapons.

“Now, silence, for your life!” whispered Sergius. “Trust me to lead you to safety.”

Not another word was exchanged between us for several minutes, during which, having crawled on to a sort of shelf, and covered the opening by means of a spring sliding panel, we found it necessary to crawl for some distance on all fours, in a stifling atmosphere which threatened to choke us. But at last this ordeal was also over, and we emerged into another chamber, similarly arranged to the one by which we had entered the species of tunnel which we had just traversed.

I was by this time almost exhausted with terror and haste, and was thankful indeed to be told that the worst danger was now over. But I exerted myself womanfully to hide the full extent of my distress from Sergius, and have since felt rather ashamed at times when he has insisted upon praising my courage and fortitude.

“You may put your shoes on again now,” he said, “and we shall no doubt find some one in the next room ready to give us a good brushing.”

It was as he said. But it took a good wash, as well as a good brush, to make us at all presentable, and every requisite facility for furbishing up one’s toilet was to be found here.

“How strange it seems,” I said, “to have come into such handy quarters. I understand the comforts of the other end. But these two little rooms seem to be only used for dressing, and don’t communicate with a bedroom at all.”

“That is easily explained. We are now actually in a theater, and these are the manager’s dressing-rooms. He is one of us, and the whole plan of escape is of his devising. That passage along which we crawled is space taken from the front upper rooms of three houses that we have crossed. It was necessary to take off our shoes, in order not to make too much noise over other people’s heads; but even the chance of betrayal on this score is practically guarded against, since all these front rooms have been taken by various members of our Fraternity. They would know what a scrambling noise overhead meant, but there is a possibility of antagonistic strangers being sometimes present in some of the rooms, so we are always as careful as possible. There, now, if you have quite recovered your breath, we will follow the rest of our friends downstairs.”

In a few minutes we found our way down staircases along corridors into what proved to be the manager’s private room, and here the manager himself was conversing with several of those who had so recently escaped a mortal danger.

“Ah! here you are, Brother Volkhoffsky,” he said. “Do you think the alarm has been a false one, or that the flight was unnecessary?”

“If my wife and I had been one minute later,” was the reply, “all would have been lost. I had only just broken the secret spring, when I heard loud commands to surrender, while the door was being violently assailed.”

“Ugh!” shuddered one or two. “It’s as well we’re out of it. But what had we better do next?”

“I do not think that it would be advisable for any more of you to leave the theater now,” said the manager. “The police will be watching the whole neighborhood very carefully just now. You very likely all need refreshment badly, or will before you have a chance of obtaining any elsewhere. Four of you shall have some wine and such substantial fare as I have already provided, while the rest walk boldly on to the stage. You must refresh yourselves in relays of four. I don’t want too many people in this room at once, as we are likely to be interrupted at any moment, and my advice is that you spend as short a time here as is consistent with a substantial meal, which I again warn you will be needed. I will give you all part of some play to masquerade on the stage with, and if any prying spies intrude, you will be supposed to be rehearsing for to-night’s performance. As evening approaches, the theater will be lighted up, and before the real artists arrive you must so dispose yourselves as to be able to join the audience unobtrusively. You will then be comparatively safe, as no one will imagine that people who know the police to be on their track would spend the evening listening to a comic opera, thus apparently wasting valuable time. After the play is over, you can emerge with the crowd, and go your several directions in comparative safety. After that it will be each one for himself, and the God of nations for us all. And now, my friends, I have my daily duties to perform, and must attend to them at once, if I would avoid the curse of suspicion. So good-by, and may our unhappy country be no more under the necessity of fighting against those whose duty it is to help instead of to oppress!”

This wish was fervently echoed by the rest of those present. There was a solemn ceremony of handshaking, and then the Society which had exacted such a horrible duty from my husband was disbanded forever, although many of its members found it advisable to follow the manager’s advice and abide in the theater until after the evening performance. Sergius and I were of the number; and, greatly to our relief, the tickets and passports with which Sergius was already provided were accepted at the railway stations without suspicion.

Our journey to the frontier, although desperately fatiguing, proved uneventful, and when, having traveled by the Brest-Litovsk route, we found ourselves in Berlin, we felt able to express to each other without fear our thankfulness at our escape. In Berlin we stayed for a couple of days, to take much needed rest, and to replenish our shabby and scanty wardrobe, since we did not care to return to England with nothing but the clothes we stood up in.

There was no need for Sergius to sell any of our jewelry to provide ready money. He was well supplied with cash, and had this not been so he could have drawn upon a Berlin banker whom he knew.

A couple of days later we presented ourselves, somewhat travel-worn, but otherwise in good health, at the house of Prince Michaelow, in Kensington, and I shall never forget the delighted astonishment with which he and Nina welcomed us “home” again.

“Thank God!” said the former. “We never expected to see either of you alive again.”

“You see, I fetched him home,” I said to Nina, and I hardly know whether smiles or tears most prevailed as I received my friend’s enraptured caresses.

“I can’t think how you have managed so beautifully,” said Nina; “unless, indeed, you only went part of the way.”

“We went all the way, and Dora has gone through all sorts of terrible adventures with no end of pluck,” asserted Sergius.

“It’s just wonderful! After the news of that horrible assassination reached England, I felt sure you were both doomed,” said Nina, with a shudder, accompanied by another hug. “But how did you escape so easily?”

“Perhaps we had better defer explicit particulars for a little while,” interposed Prince Michaelow. “I am thinking that one never knows what may happen, and that it will be as well not to betray the fact of your having been in Russia again to any one. I suppose you were in St. Petersburg?”

This was said so significantly that I knew what awful thing he was hinting at, and at once exclaimed: “No, thank Heaven! Sergius has been no further than Moscow. That was done without him.”

“I am so thankful!” chimed in Nina. “Of course, I feel for the people. But it is an immense relief to me to know that none of my friends have killed the poor, misguided man.”

“You see,” said the prince, “we shall never be able to make true patriots of our wives. They are too English for that. But how will this affect your future?”

“I am just as much absolved from further duty as if mine had been the hand which threw the bomb. Our Society is disbanded, and will never be reorganized on the same lines. While still a member of it, I was resolved to fulfill the terms of my oath to the letter. But that sort of work does not suit me, and though I long for the regeneration of my country, I am now convinced that violence on the part of secret societies can never cure the evils we deplore.”

“Then you are not likely to join another secret society?”

“Never! My political career is over. I cannot sympathize with the government. I may not work openly in the interests of the people. And I will not lend myself again to secret plotting. This much I have already told Dora. But she does not know yet that I have resolved never to return to Russia. Henceforth my life is devoted to her happiness and comfort.”

This was indeed glorious news, which helped me to throw off the last talon of the incubus of dread, and speedily recover the happiest spirits imaginable. We decided to adopt the prince’s advice, and to say nothing to any one about having been elsewhere than on our originally projected wedding-tour. We had returned within the time expected, and I for one would not have put it in Belle’s power to betray the fact that Sergius was in Russia when the czar was assassinated.

So we duly took possession of our own beautiful house; and then, as I really longed to see Lady Elizabeth and Jerry, we went down to the Grange, to pay a visit which my father had strongly urged us to pay.

And how different this journey to Moorbye was to the last one! Then I was lonely, unloved, miserable and homeless. Now I was the possessor of everything that goes to make life happy. And yet only a few months had elapsed between the two visits. Early summer had but given way to late autumn. Certainly, many events had been crowded into a short space of time. Nevertheless, it was nothing short of wonderful that such results should have sprung so rapidly from the ashes of what I had deemed an almost incurable grief.

I could not complain of my reception, for all but Belle greeted me with warmth, and I was positively thankful that she held aloof from me. I was also glad that no one witnessed our meeting. She had kept her room, when we first arrived, on the plea of a headache, to which I inwardly gave the name of envy. For, knowing the superiority of Sergius to the Earl of Greatlands, and thoroughly understanding Belle’s envious nature, I knew that my good fortune could but be a very bitter pill for her to swallow. We encountered each other in the corridor, when I was on my way to the dressing-room assigned me, and it was characteristic of the nature of us both that we merely bowed when we saw each other. There was no sisterly kiss. Not even a handshake. Apparently there was to be an armed truce between us, and Belle’s first words prepared me to understand that she hated me as much as ever.

“So,” she said, drawing her superb figure up to its full height, and looking scornfully at me, “you have managed to secure a title, after all! Had you lived in the middle ages you would have been burned as a witch, for nobody would have believed that you used aught but magic arts to ensnare your victims. And you have not shown much decency, either, or you would not have married so soon after—”

Here Belle, callous and hardened as she was, paused for a moment, and I finished the sentence for her in a manner she little expected.

“Since the death of your victim,” I said, now feeling as relentless as she was herself. “Take care how you goad me, or I may be tempted to betray your secrets. For I know everything, and one word from me could shatter your castle of cards. While I am at it I will tell you something else. Not long ago you deliberately meditated my removal by the same means which made your fiancÉ an earl. Take care how you attempt to repeat such experiments. I am not the only one in the secret. But it will be safely kept, if you behave yourself, for the sake of others, who would suffer by your downfall. I hardly need hint that you would precipitate that downfall by any attack upon my life, since I am less likely to die unavenged than the poor old earl. And now I have only one stipulation to enforce. You must henceforth be civil and polite to me and mine. In return I will refrain from ever alluding to this wicked business again. The possessors of your secret are as anxious to guard it as if they were alike guilty with you.”

Had Belle been struck into stone she could not have been more rigid than she was. Her face petrified with horror, and her eyes betrayed the consciousness of guilt. She made no attempt to interrupt me. But the look of relief which overspread her face when I reassured her that her secret was safe showed me that she thoroughly understood the meaning of every word I said, and convinced me that I need fear no further insults from her in future. I had not meant thus openly to confront her with her own wickedness. But her insults stung me to it, and my words certainly had the effect I desired.

When, shortly afterward, I joined the others in the dining-room, there was ample balm for my wounded feelings. My father, having got over the pique which he had first felt on discovering that I was capable of carving my own fortunes, and that I was not inclined to eat humble pie, was becoming quite cordial with me, and had evidently come to the conclusion that there must be something in me, after all, since others seemed to appreciate me so highly. As for Sergius, it was impossible to resist him, and there was every evidence that Mr. Courtney was already feeling very proud of his new son-in-law.

Lady Elizabeth was looking much better, and plied me with a great many questions relative to my early Russian adventures. “I have missed you very much,” she said. “But I have not felt so anxious about you as might have been the case had you been less energetic and self-reliant. Besides, you knew that I loved you, and I expected you would apply to me at once, if you were in need of money. I also thought that, as the friction was connected with Belle, you would return to us as soon as she was married. But I never dreamed that you would be the possessor of a wealthy husband and a title. Certainly, in your case, it has been proved that it is better to be born lucky than rich. I wonder what Belle thinks of it. She has never said anything to me. She knows I would not listen to a word against you. But I hope she does not mean to be rude, or that her headache is not a mere pretext to avoid you.”

“You need have no fear,” I replied confidently. “I met Belle in the corridor, and received her congratulations. I think she means to let bygones be bygones as much as possible now. I daresay she felt that she had sufficient cause to be ill-natured before. And, you know, she must have been awfully disappointed when she found she was not to live at the castle.”

“You said some strange words that morning,” said Lady Elizabeth, sinking her voice to a whisper. “The thought of what they implied has almost killed me. The whole affair was so dreadful that I did not know what to think. Do you still—”

“Mother,” I interrupted hastily, “for Heaven’s sake, pay no more heed to the ravings of a grief stricken girl. It was unfortunate for us all that your brother should have gained his title under such tragic circumstances. But pray do not think that anything but nature interfered with my wedding. It served me right. I was selfish and headstrong, and ought to have remembered how cruelly Belle was disappointed. It was a shame to say wicked things of her besides.”

“Oh, Dorrie! how thankful you make me. I have of late begun to think it impossible that either Cyril or Belle would stoop to criminality. It was too awful to believe. Now that you are also convinced, I feel thoroughly happy. And how nice you are looking, too! You have such pretty hair, and such a fine complexion. Your figure, too, since you have become less thin, is as good as Belle’s own. Your father remarked a little while ago that it was wonderful what an amount of good looks you were developing.”

“I believe I am too happy and well-cared for ever to recover my former perfection of ugliness.”

“Now, Dorrie,” chimed in another voice, “it’s really too bad of you. You don’t seem to be able to spare me a minute. I don’t believe you are half so jolly as you used to be.”

“Why, Jerry!” I said, kissing him affectionately. “Didn’t I talk with you nearly all the way from the station? And didn’t I discover what a little fraud you are, for you couldn’t answer my most simple French questions? And haven’t you taken possession of Sergius ever since?”

“Yes, to be sure. I forgot that. But, oh my! isn’t he a brick? He’s given me a sovereign, and he’s going to buy me the jolliest pony he can get, so that I can have plenty of riding in the holidays.”

Just at this juncture Mr. and Mrs. Garth, who, it seems, had been invited to dine with us, arrived on the scene, and there was a considerable amount of congratulating and handshaking. Then Belle came down, looking as quietly elegant and beautiful as ever, though perhaps a shade paler. She was very gracious when introduced to Sergius, and impressed every one very favorably by her brilliant conversation and ready wit.

Both my father and Lady Elizabeth looked very happy and contented, and the evening was spent sociably and harmoniously. There was only one cankerous secret hidden beneath the smiling surface of family unity. But that was to be buried forever, I devoutly hoped.

“What a pity Greatlands isn’t here,” said my father, some time after we had all adjourned to the drawing-room. “I’m sorry business kept him in town this week. You see, Volkhoffsky, he is doing the thing in style, and is very busy making all necessary preparations for next week’s grand event. Yes, one week more, and then Belle, too, will have passed the portals of matrimony.”

Yes, one week more, and the final scene in this life-drama will have been played. One turn more of Fortune’s wheel, and we will ring the curtain down upon these reminiscences of an ugly girl’s life.