THE GOVERNORS DAUGHTER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 257, 3 November 1906, Page 13

THE GOVERNORS DAUGHTER.

BY P. L. MORGAN, IN "ILA.P-"

COMPLLTE

<&!£&s Paul Androneviteh TronT i / owski returned to Russia af--14/ ter a lengthy sojourn abroad, W f he threw himself into the question of reform with a ■ nr and eathusiasm that allowed but mall margin for the exigencies of j fJTin authority. That his doctrines i « sound in logic there was little X but, nevertheless, they were hard- | W of the kind to be fully appreciated in Lt part of the world where reform \L]ly spells exile; und, therefore, it fgMt.surprising that the Governor, a wpi-ieatured, irascible old general, Solly absorbed by the idea of Ms owu • Bortance, should resent his attitude, mi endeavour to restore harmony and \L, in the Government over which he Sjfl by seeking to remove the youthful of the disturbances. destination proved that V ronowski ,95 a "student of Ruskin and other Engj" writers whose sentiments were LIT antagonistic to the Russian eennff and an "order was straightway made J f or his arrest a≤ a revolutionist. sudden police raid on his house at the dead of "night, when in the proper order of tMnss Vronowski should have teen sleeping V addl y bed, ignorCTt of the danger that menaced him, rented in-nothing but the finding of a brief, unsigned note in a woman's fine, almost undecipherable hand-writing, evidently dropped by the fugitive in the hnrrv of departure, which revealed the fact "that someone had batrayed the Governors secret and warned Paul Androneriteh, just in time, of his danger. Iα say that the general was perturbed vhen he heard the result of the raid was to use a term that ill-expressed his frame of mind. All his anger was suddenly diverted from Vronowski to the mysterious vrriier of the letter, to whom he swore bJ would show but scant mercy shoulc she fall. into his hands. There was o;'y one person in the whole Government however, who could have eilightenedhim as to the betrayer of his sesret, anr she was his own daughter. Vera Iva?ovna Esteletski was a slight pale-iacec , girl with large pensive eyes jjji aa fr of gentle timidity that made many pi>ple accuse her of being totally ketingin both courage and character. On Bevral occasions, unknown to any«ne, si had met Vronowski while driving a <oss the steppe, and there was someiing in his handsome face and ■rigor-is personality that had instantly proved a strong physical influence on her. Once he had come to her assistance ■she her sledge had sunk into a snow<jrg and helped the driver to extricate

thfstruggling horses. It is true that buiew words passed between them, ana ike few were forgotten all too soon by tione; but the other had lain awake tl greater part of that same night livi oTer and over again with ever-recur-ig delight those few brief moments of ierararse. Mie was fully cognisant of E danser She ran of being detected >cii shft lesilved to warn Paul Androne•k&o\Wiathers intentions, but her (jni ttunffliV -was wholly submerged by ie thoughtof Vronowski's peril. At luncb'time she had listened to her ather dfeussing the finding of the leter, and k& fruitless search that had >een mad'throughout the town and sur•onndingorantry for the missing man. a sileno She had even remained im-

lassive [hen the general had declared «heme*ly that he would rather discover tie wop ll ' srfa o had betrayed him than tie fnipe himself. But when the meal •Vfgs (3r her courage waned; she felt she cM not face her father again, fcnowg she had deceived him, and, qnittjF the room hastily, she donned ler Ptt furs and stole out into the gard/s that stretched behind the palaA nnpereeived. \p head bent to meet the Wast that can/surging over the endless monotony ofjaujw-bouncl steppe, Vera walked sjtfly to the end of the garden, and til paused. Close to the high stone Ttjl'that separated the grounds from tl open country, was a small datcha tfwden house) which had. formerly p occupied by an old nurse of the pily, and which the Governor had conpted into a little summer retreat for (is only daughter. Concealed by dense prnbs and enshrouded in a bewildering Pass of delicate-scented roses, it formed r co °l shelter in June when the great .rooms of the palace had grown stifling 'tt the hot glare of the sunshine. But lamnterall was chanced. The dateha, d «mded of every vestige of foliage, looked cold aad desolate among the snow"nfts, and hence it was usually locked "P at that season and seldom visited by anyone, eseept Vera . who occasionally c-anc-;d in to see that evervthino' was in order. " " w That evening, moved by a sudden irashe drew out the key, and, fitting "»to the lock, threw open the door. til!/? t!le £ nOi;T '- v glimmer of the snow against the small, double win-*-the s little living-room in front %vas 2 iWmess, but a "iuiaft of light from c mde-upen door enabled the sirl U. all the familiar objects .Suddenly fear | a id ho-.j h-r. and SjWedly iuade t; ;e si-, of tb* ,•:-., 6,16 aad often heard -•—■-;,.- c.t • ' i ■ JgSig to earth im."w.s : v V-.Vi J*** once more. W«a !i possible .tsoase lorru2r occllpant oi the datc ha , n Possoisjo-.: or" it during her dook*},' ,? he S; ' iv «J' eJ - 'i'lien she anHi rsell io gPtlicr with an effort dd -fl d *° think that such Etories tith ~l£nee her - and shivered again. the' J 6 ™! 7311 ? terror ' taen decJflt-'d th«i!Jtten P elr effect onl y due to the ? s oi the hour, the drear twilight. iw death-Uke ciiill around. Gather»bnt t age horn tbe thou g ht s°e was n l Mter the inner room when th e *>od o!m " okplessl y and a tall figure •eafo-st -ii , m P U i'' silhouetted vividly i beyond. throat ' ST] - paused ' her han( i to her One B i/ S t0 arrest a cry of alarm. *as i n r ' e f S,lfriced to teli h e r that this no ?r iiy vL<itanfc . »° Phantam •CSS T W ° rld ' bufc a tai1 ' broad " ** aZ man With fair hair and P ierc " tJxZrT** that Were l uick "d kind, he rs as +V . ° ll<:e oa a time smiled into ftldv c v ° WneT had looped with to brush the dinging' Mile : n "• ° her fllr " There was no fhe tfi' l ' l9m . vow as they met hers, but -%>r e ifc! \ and S to note that 1 ) 0 ln them either . on 1! 'ft* '"at- f lade P erha PS of seine**kiel f + f'-isappoiatanent, which toe, as Paal Aodpeaevitdi

Vronowski advanced into the room and bowed. " Mademoiselle Esteletski," he said coolly, " I suppose I ought to apologise for my intrusion; but, believe mc, when I sought the shelter of your roof last night I had no option in doing otherwise, as my pursuers were already close on my heels. I knew no one would dream of searching for mc in the Governor's gardens, so I vaulted the wall and made my way in through the window at the back. Had you not discovered my whereabouts I should have taken my departure to-night, and endeavoured to escape aero&s the frontier on foot. But now I have nothing to do but to yield myself your prisoner." Still Vera did not speak. With one hand clutching her heavy shouba (watted coat) she stood motionless, gazing fixedly in front of her. In one Lightning flash there rose, before the retina of her mental vision two pictures, the one represented the man who stood before her driven into exile, the other depicted her father overwhelmed by the tidings of his daughter's treachery, and she shivered in her thick furs as if with physical cold. Whom should she betray? Trono-wski who had no claim on her, or her father "who trusted her implicitly? The question was hard to answer; she felt that if she gave Paul Andronevit-ch his liberty she could never return home and meet her father again; and if she betrayed him, if she summoned help, what then? And suddenly she remembered the way in which Vronowski had smiled the day he came to her assistance on the steppe, the touch of his hand as he brushed the snow off her coat, and instantiy she became acutely conscious of his presence, his handsome face, his keen grey eyes that she knew were watching her, and forgot all else. Fate had placed him in her hands. He was innocent, she knew, and therefore it was her duty to protect him whatever befell. Her breath came in little gasps, but she was conscious of an immense lelief at her own decision. Vronowski looked at the girl sharply. Her back was to the light, and he could only make out her face dimly in the waning light. He saw that she was agitated, perhaps afraid, and felt sorry for her. ' ; I assure you there is nothing to be nervous of/" 5 he said kindly. "See, lam unarmed," and he spread out his hands for her to examine as a proof of his de- ! feneelessness, and laughed lightly, show- | ing a row of glistening white teeth. "I j shall make no resistance whatever," he continued, "and you shall have the satisfaction of handing over such a notorious anarchist as myself to the Governor with your own bands." j For the first time Vera lifted her head j and met his gaze. ''I am not pfraid of ; you," she said laconically, and paused. J Vronow.=ki raised his eyebrows in surprise. . Then why this too obvious perturbation if she were not afraid? He leaned his back against t'.e door, and, thrusting his hands deep down into his pockets, studied her attentively. She was not pretty, far from it, he had noticed that the day he met her on the steppe, but there was something distinctly attractive about her, nevertheless. She had splendid eyes, he remembered that, too .although she kept them so persistently avertd from his face at the present moment. Then, in a flash, he recalled the letter he had received, and looked at her with a new interest. Was it possible that she had written it? He could not forget the intonation of her voice when she had declared that she was not afraid of him. He tried to put aside the thought as but it repeated itself with strange persistency. "Poor little thing," he muttered to himself, and then a wave of infinite compassion swept over him.

'"Vera Ivanovna,"' he said gently, and he noted how she started at the sound of her name and how the tell-tale blood rushed to her pale cheeks, "I know this is a difficult matter for you or any young girl to decide. But, believe mc, every moment you delay in announcing my presence here jeopardises your fair name. Even if your generosity should prompt you to hesitate in handing mc over to justice, it is your duty to do so as the Governor's daughter." The girl looked up quickly; her pale face seemed still paler in the gloom, and her great dark eyes were blazing with, suppressed emotion. "Ah," she cried, "is it any woman's duty to send an innocent man into exile, in order to preserve her own good naxne?" "It is yours." said Vronowski, "as you are the Governor's daughter." "But you are the victim of his pride and arrogance. He knows, we all know, why he desires your arrest —it is because he feare your influence ia growing more potent than his in the Government.' , Vronowski laughed, a short, bitter laugh. '"That is not the point under discussion." he said laconically. "'I know that," said the girl, "and I prefer to ipiccre it. I know my duty, and I will perform it, whatever happens. Remain where you are as long as you like, nuii f shail take care that no one shall hr:ri out your hiding place." She swept tier furs about her -,s she spoke, and turned as if to go, bu£ Vronowski intercepted her. •'Vera Ivanovna." he said in a low, tense voice. "Are you aware of the penalty you in<~>ir by such an a/*.t?" "I am," she replied. "And you would incur it for me—a stranger?" ■'I woulJ incur it for any stranger whom I lrcew to be the victim of injustice " she answered proudly. Paul Andronevitch took her little, cold, gloved hand in his, and drew it gently to hie lips, are a brave girl," he murmured hoarsely, ''and I thank you for your generosity, but I cannot accept liberty at such a price. I shall deliver myself up immediately." "You cannot, you must not," the girl crief> in sudden alarm. "My father is a hard man, he would show you no justice, you ■■vould be condemned and exiled for life." "Which fate you are willing to incur for my sake," he said. She shifted her eyes to his, and for one moment their gazo met. It was but a brief instant, but it sufficed for both. "You -yrote that letter?" he said thickly. "I did," she answered. There was a silence, during which Vronowski forgot to loosen his hold of her hand, forgot everything in the knowledge

that she was willing and glad to risk all for bis cake.

All at once Vera started. Her quick ear had caught the sound of advancing footsteps on the cinder-strewn path outside, and her quicker brain had devised a plan to compel him to accept his liberty at her hands. In an instant, before Vronowski could divine her intentions, the had rushed across the room and out through the open door, which she allowed to swing heavily to behind her.

i "Ah! Verochka," said the Governor, ' -who, in astrachan cap and great military coat slung over his shoulders., was advancin o, leisurely down the walk accompanied 0 by the Chief of Police, a short .hirsute man with narrow crafty eyes : embedded in heavy folds of opaque flesh. '•Captain Popoff" — indicating his companion with a careless movement of his h ea( i—"was just asking my permission to search your little daiciia, as it is rumoured that the anarchist Vronowski was last seen in this locality."

For a moment Vera was silent. The denial which but an instant before seemed so easy to utter stuck in her throat as she looked at her father and met his gaze fixed full on her. Then she recalled that the man for whom she must utter it was the victim of that same father's pride, and the thought strengthened her. She lifted her head proudly. "There is no need to search there," she said calmly, but in a voice loud enough to be clearly audible to the solitary occupant of the datcha. "'I have just been all over it."

j "Ah, slavo bog!" (thank goodness) s-aid the Governor in a relieved tone of voice. "I knew the scoundrel would not dare hide himself beneath my very roof of all places." I And turning he offered his arm to his ! daughter to conduct her back to the pal- ; ace, and dismissed the Chief of Police. j The following morning Vera hastened down to the datcha, and in fear and trembling unlocked the door and entered. The place was deserted. She looked at the time. If Vronowski had been able to escape detection he must now be safe across the frontier. She retraced her steps slowly to the palace. Now that the hour of confession was at hand her courage failed her and she paled at the thought of her father's wrath. The General was sitting at his writing table busily engaged in reading dispatches, but he turned at the sound of his daughter's step and stretched out his arm to draw her to his side. But the girl evaded his grasp, and in a few brief words told him how she had betrayed him. The General listened in silence, and when she had finished he put his arm about her tenderly. '•Dushenka" (little one), he said, and his voice qiiivered with emotion, "I recognised your handwriting the moment that letter was handed to mc, but remained silent, wondering whether you would conceal your action from mc. Had you done s>o, I would not have spared you, but now I know that I have a daughter who is not only brave but honourable, and I am proud of her." And he kissed her tenderly on the brow.

Ten years later Vronowski was granted a free pardon and permitted to return to Eussia once more. Time had done much to ameliorate his ardour in the cause of reform, and the new Governor of Olguino saw nothing in the quiet middle-aged man who had taken up his residence on the outskirts of the town, to oceas-ion his alarm. He knew him to be wealthy and of unimpeachable origin, and being a father of a large family of marriageable daughters he considered it expedient to invite the newcomer to one of his little dinner parties. It was a very select entertainment, .and among the quests was a little lady dressed in deop mourning, wi*h soft hair and great pensive dark eyes. There was no need of any introduction, for Vronowski knew her immediately. "Vera," he said softly, as he took a seat at her side, "many years ago you gave mc my liberty, but at the same time you took my heart prisoner. Will you render it mc back now?" And raising her eyes fearlessly to his she answered gently, "Paul, will you not take mine instead?"