"Dearest,--My mother and I leave England to-night. Do not ask why we go,
or why I have not sent for you to come and say good-bye. We shall be
away perhaps only a few days; in any case you must not go until we
return. Do not forget that I must see you again."
Natalie."
She felt happier when she had written these two notes. She rose from the
table and went over to her mother.
"Now, mother, tell me how much money you have," she said, with a highly
practical air. "What, have I startled you, poor little mother? I believe
your head is full of all kinds of strange forebodings; and yet they used
to say that the Berezolyis were all of them very courageous."
"Natalushka, you do not know what danger you are rushing into," the
mother said, absently.
"I again ask you, mother, a simple question: how much money have you?"
"I? I have thirty pounds or thereabout, Natalie; that is my capital, as
it were; but next month my cousins will send me--"
"Never mind about next month, mother dear. You must let me rob you of
all your thirty pounds; and, just to make sure, I will go and borrow ten
pounds more from Madame Potecki. Madame is not so very poor; she has
savings; she would give me every farthing if I asked her. And do you
think, little mother, if we come back successful--do you think there
will be a great difficulty about paying back the loan to Madame
Potecki?"
She was quite gay, to give her mother courage; and she refused to leave
her alone, a prey to these gloomy forebodings. She carried her off with
her in the cab to Curzon Street, and left her in the cab while she
entered the house with Anneli. Anneli cried a little when she was
receiving her mistress's last instructions.
"Am I never to see you again, Fraulein?" she sobbed. "Are you never
coming back to the house any more?"
"Of course you will see me again, you foolish girl, even if I do not
come back here. Now you will be careful, Anneli, to have the wine a
little warmed before dinner, and see that your master's slippers are in
the study by the fire; and the coffee--you must make the coffee
yourself, Anneli--"
"Oh yes, indeed, Fraulein, I will make the coffee," said Anneli, with a
fresh flowing of tears. "But--but may not I go with you, Fraulein?--if
you are not coming back here any more, why may I not go with you? I am
not anxious for wages, Fraulein--I do not want any wages at all; but if
you will take me with you--"
"Now, do not be foolish, Anneli. Have you not a whole house to look
after? There, take these keys; you will have to show that you can be a
good house-mistress, and sensible, and not childish."
At the door she shook hands with the sobbing maid, and bade her a
cheerful good-bye. Then she got into the cab and drove away to Madame
Potecki's lodgings. Finally, by dexterous management, she succeeded in
getting her mother and herself to Charing Cross Station in time to catch
the afternoon express to Dover.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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