By Right of Sword Part 35

When we reached the courtyard, the postchaise which I had ordered to follow us from the inn had arrived, and Olga and I entered it at once.

"Thank G.o.d, we are out of the house," was my companion's fervent exclamation, as the carriage turned into the road and we left the gloomy place behind us.

"Would to G.o.d we were out of Russia!" said I, speaking from my heart.

"Then..." I paused and looked into her face.

"All may yet come right," answered Olga, meeting my eyes and putting her hand in mine. My clasp closed on it, and we sat thus for some moments, just hand in hand, each silently happy in the knowledge of the other's love.

Then I bent toward her and gradually drew her to me, my eyes all the time lighted with the light from hers.

"It is love, Olga; lovers' love?" I asked in a pa.s.sionate whisper.

For answer she smiled and whispered back:

"It has always been, Alexis;" and she met my betrothal kisses with warmth equal to mine. And after that we did not care to say a word, but leant back in the carriage as it flew through the country in the gathering gloom of the evening, b.u.mping, jolting, rolling, and creaking. What cared we for that? Olga was fast in my arms her head on my breast and her face close to mine, so close that we were tempted ever and again to let the story of our love tell itself over and over again in our kisses; and neither Olga nor I had a thought of resisting the temptation.

This would have gone on for hours, so far as I was concerned; I was in a veritable Palace of Delight with freshly avowed love as my one thought. But Olga roused herself suddenly with a start and a little cry.

"Oh, Alexis, what have you made me do? Your wound."

I had forgotten all about it, but now when she mentioned it my left arm felt a little stiff.

"I am ashamed of myself," she cried. "What a love must mine be, that I want to dream of it with selfish pleasure when you are wounded. You make me drink oblivion with your kisses."

"Love is a fine narcotic," replied I, laughing. "I felt no wound while you looked at me. But now that you bring me down to earth with a rush, I begin to remember it. But it is nothing much, and will best wait till we are in Moscow."

"Do you think I will let anyone see that wound before I do? Why, it was gained for my sake. And you love me? And now"--"now" was a long loving kiss and a lingering look into my face as she held it between her hands, while her eyes were radiant with delight. Then she sighed--"Now, I am all sister again."

I was looking my doubts of this and meant to test them, shaking my head in strong disbelief, when the carriage stopped suddenly. Looking out I saw that we were at the inn, and must therefore have been driving long over two hours. It had seemed scarce a minute.

"Will you get out while we change horses, sir?" asked the Prince's servant, who had come with the carriage on horseback.

"My brother is wounded and must have attendance at once," said Olga, in so self-possessed a tone that I smiled.

"Only a scratch," said I, as if impatiently. "But my sister is always fidgety."

We went into the house then, and Olga insisted upon examining the wound, and when she saw the blood I had lost, not much, but making brave shew on my white linen, she was all solicitude, and anxiety. She sent the maids flying this way and that, one to fetch hot water, another bandages, a third lint, and altogether made such a commotion in the place that one would have thought I had been brought there to die.

She bathed the little spot so tenderly and delicately too, asking every moment if her touch hurt me; and she washed it and then covered it, and bandaged it and bound it up, and did everything with such infinite care that I was almost glad I had been wounded.

And the whole process she accompanied with a running fire of would-be scolding comment upon the trouble that brothers gave, the obstinate creatures they were, the rash and foolish things they did, how much more bother they were than sisters, and a great deal more to the same effect--till I thought the people would see through the acting as clearly as I did, a.s.sisted as I was by the thousand little glints and glances she threw to me when the others were not looking our way.

Then she held a long consultation with the landlady--a large woman who seemed as kindly in heart as she was portly in body--whether it would be safe for me to go on to the city that night, or whether a doctor had not better be brought out to me there: and it took the persuasion and a.s.surances of us all to win her consent to my going on.

I tried to punish her for this when we were in the carriage again, by telling her I supposed she was unwilling to travel on with me. But I wasted my breath and my effort, as she was all the way in the highest spirits.

"I don't quite know which I like best," she said, laughing. "Being sister with a knowledge of--of something else, as I was just now at the inn, or--or..."

"Or what?"

"Or riding with Hamylton Tregethner," she answered, laughing again, gleefully. "Do you notice how easily I can say that dreadful name?"

"I notice I like it better from your lips than from any others."

"I've practised it--and it was so difficult. But I might even get to like it in time, you know."

"By the way, I remember you once told me you didn't like Hamylton Tregethner."

"Ah, yes. That was my brother's old friend. A very disagreeable person. He wanted to take my brother away from Moscow. A person must be very unpleasant who wishes to divide brother and sister. Don't you think so?"

"That depends on the rate of exchange," said I.

"Perhaps; but at that time there was no talk of exchange at all."

"And no thought of it?"

"Ah!" And for answer she nestled to me again and merged the sister in the lover with a readiness and pleasure that shewed what she thought of that particular exchange.

And with these little intervals of particularly sweet and pleasant light and shade we travelled the miles to Moscow, in what seemed to us both an incredibly short time.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

It was not until a night's rest had somewhat redressed the balance of my emotions and had rendered me again subject to the pressure of actualities that I fully realised how the avowal of my love had rather increased than diminished the difficulties of our position.

Despite my fatigue and wound I was stirring in good time, and had had the doctor's report and seen the Colonel to get leave from regimental work, in time to get round to see Olga pretty early. I wished to see her and discuss the whole position before going to report to Prince Bilba.s.soff the result of things with Devinsky.

The manner in which Olga met me was one of the sweetest things imaginable and the presence of the good aunt, Countess Palitzin, added to its effect. They were sitting together when I entered.

"It is Alexis, aunt," said Olga rising. She was a mixture of laughing love and sisterly indifference.

"Alexis, you are a good lad, a dear lad," said the old lady, usually very stately and punctilious. "Come here, boy, and kiss me and let me kiss you. You have done splendidly and bravely in this matter of Olga.

She has told me all about it."

"All?" I echoed, looking at Olga, who tried to keep the smile that was dancing in her eyes from travelling to her lips.

"All that a sister need tell," she said.

"Olga, I have no patience with you," exclaimed the aunt. "You have a brother in a thousand--in ten thousand, and yet you speak in that way.

And I see you never kiss him now. I should like to know why. Are you ashamed of him? Here he has saved you from all this trouble, and you give him the points of your finger nails to touch. Yet you are not cold and feelingless in other things."

"I am glad that you speak to her like this," I said, gravely. "She seems to think that a sister should never kiss such a brother as I am."

"Do you mean to say you think I have given you no reason to believe I am thankful for what you have done?" she retorted, fencing cleverly.