Part 70 (2/2)
The girl put her hand aside, and sprung to her feet. No longer was she white of face. The blood of the Berezolyis was in her cheeks; her eyes were dilated; her voice was proud and indignant.
”And I,” she said, ”if this is true--if this is possible--Oh, do you think I am going to see a brave man sent to his death, shamelessly, cruelly, and not do what I can to save him? It is not for you, mother, it is not for one who bears the name that you bear to tell me to be afraid. What I did fear was to live, with him dead. Now--”
The mother had risen quickly to her feet also, and sought to hold her daughter's hands.
”For the sake of Heaven, Natalushka!” she pleaded. ”You are running into a terrible danger--”
”Do I care, mother? Do I look as if I cared?” she said, proudly.
”And for no purpose, Natalushka; you will only bring down on yourself the fury of your father, and he will make your life as miserable as he has made mine. And what can you do, child? what can you do but bring ruin on yourself? You are powerless: you have no influence with those in authority as I at one time had. You do not know them: how can you reach them?”
”You forget, mother,” the girl said, triumphantly; ”was it not you yourself who asked me if I had ever heard of one Bartolotti?”
The mother uttered a slight cry of alarm.
”No, no, Natalushka, I beg of you--”
The girl took her mother in her arms and kissed her. There was a strange joy in her face; the eyes were no longer haggard, but full of light and hope.
”You dear mother,” she said, as she gently compelled her to be seated again, ”that is the place for you. You will remain here, quiet, undisturbed by any fears; no one shall molest you; and when you have quite recovered from all your sufferings, and when your courage has returned to you, then I will come back and tell you my story. It is story for story, is it not?”'
She rung the bell.
”Pardon me, dear mother; there is no time to be lost. For once I return to my father's house--yes, there is a card there that I must have--”
”But afterward, child, where do you go?” the mother said, though she could scarcely find utterance.
”Why, to Naples, mother; I am an experienced traveller; I shall need no courier.”
The blood had mounted into both cheek and forehead; her eyes were full of life and pride; even at such a moment the anxious, frightened mother was forced to think she had never seen her daughter look so beautiful.
The door opened.
”Madame, be so good as to tell Anneli that I am ready.”
She turned to her mother.
”Now, mother, it is good-bye for I do not know how long.”
”Oh no, it is not, child,” said the other, trembling, and yet smiling in spite of all her fears. ”If you are going to travel, you must have a courier. I will be your courier, Natalushka.”
”Will you come with me, mother?” she cried, with a happy light leaping to her eyes. ”Come, then--we will give courage to each other, you and I, shall we not? Ah, dear mother, you have told me your story only in time; but we will go quickly now--you and I together!”
CHAPTER XLV.
SOUTHWARD.
After so much violent emotion the rapid and eager preparations for travel proved a useful distraction. There was no time to lose; and Natalie very speedily found that it was she herself who must undertake the duties of a courier, her mother being far too anxious and alarmed.
Once or twice, indeed, the girl, regarding the worn, sad face, almost repented of having accepted that impulsive offer, and would have proposed to start alone. But she knew that, left in solitude, the poor distressed mother would only torture herself with imaginary fears. As for herself, she had no fear; her heart was too full to have any room for fear. And yet her hand trembled a little as she sat down to write these two messages of farewell. The first ran thus:
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