her head still bowed in an attitude of humiliation, it seemed, she handed what she had written to me.
In breathless eagerness I read as follows: —
"It is true, dear love — for I call you so in return — that you were impelled towards me by the mysterious Hand that directs all things? You came in search of me, and you risked your life for mine at Kajana, therefore you have a right to know the truth. You, as my champion, and the Princess as my friend, have contrived to effect my freedom. Were it not for you, I should ere this have been on my way to Saghalien, to the tomb which Oberg had so ingeniously contrived to consign me. Ah! you do not know — you never can know — all that I have suffered ever since I was a girl."
Here the statement broke off, and re-commenced as follows —
"In order that you should understand the truth, I had better begin at the beginning. My father was an English merchant in Petersburg, and my mother, Vera Bessanoff, who, before her marriage with my father, was celebrated at Court for her beauty, was one of the maids-of-honour to the Czarina. She was the only daughter of Count Paul Bessanoff, ex-governor of Kharkoff, and before marrying my father she had, with her mother, been a well-known figure in society. Immediately after her marriage her father died, leaving her in possesion of an ample fortune, which, with my father's
