By Wit of Woman Part 10

"You can make your mind easy about that," I said, a little drily. "I saw the attack and that he escaped."

"He is so brave. He would have risked his life for me."

"I saw him--get away, dear," I replied. I nearly said run away; but could not yet undeceive her.

"If anything had happened to him, it would have killed me. I would rather have died than that." Then with a change of manner she asked: "Did you see his face, Christabel?"

"Yes, in the moonlight, but he pa.s.sed me quickly."

"But you saw he was handsome?"

"One of the handsomest men I have ever seen," I a.s.sented, to please her.

"Yes, yes. That is just it, and as good as he is handsome."

"I could not see that, of course," I answered; and then was silent. I was growing very anxious as I saw the problem widening and deepening.

Poor trustful little soul! How should I ever break the truth to her and not break her heart at the same time?

There was a long pause, which she broke. "Oh, how I hope he has really escaped, as you say."

"How came you to be where I saw you?" I asked. This reminded her, as I intended, that she had told me nothing yet.

"I said I was selfish, Christabel, didn't I? I had quite forgotten I had told you nothing. I will tell you: but you must first give me a promise not to repeat it. Our marriage is only a secret so far, you know."

"On my honour, I will do nothing to harm you. Why is your marriage a secret?"

"My husband is afraid of his father's anger. You see, Karl--"

"Karl?" I exclaimed, involuntarily.

"That is my husband's name," she replied, with a touch of rebuke and pride. He had taken his brother's Christian name, it seemed.

"Of course," I agreed.

"My husband is a Count, but as yet only a poor one, dependent upon the good will of his father who wishes him to marry some one else. So we dare not let it be known yet that we are married."

"But your own friends know?" I said.

She seemed to resent this in some way as a reflection upon her husband.

"I have no friends in Pesth except my dear father. He is alive and I know he loves me; but I don't know why, I have never lived at home for more than a week or so at a time. I did wish to tell him; but Karl would not let me--I mean, we decided it was better not until the truth could be told to all." Then she showed me her innocent heart again.

"It is when I think of my father that I am so wretched. He will believe I have deserted him so cruelly;" and her eyes were full of tears again.

"Who is your father, dear?"

"Colonel Katona. My dear, dear father!" and her grief so overcame her that my fresh start of surprise pa.s.sed unnoticed. He had been that friend of my father's who was believed to hold the secret of the great wrong in his keeping. And it was his daughter whom I had thus saved.

Her tears pa.s.sed soon, like a summer storm. She was a creature of strangely variable moods.

"I know, of course, that Karl was right. My father is a stern, gloomy and sometimes hard man. He would have forced us to announce the marriage; and then Karl would have been ruined."

"But did not your father know that he wished to marry you?"

"Oh, no," she cried, smiling now. "That was the lovely part of it. He never saw Karl. I meant it to be a surprise. I was at Tyrnau, staying with friends, when we met, and it was all settled in a few weeks. You see Karl loved me and I loved him, and--that was all."

"You were married at Tyrnau?"

She shook her head gaily. "No. It was such fun. We ran away together, and were married by a friend of Karl's in his house at Sillien, in the mountains. A heaven of a place. My home is there.

Oh, the loveliest of homes, Christabel. You will say so when you see it."

"I may never see it, my dear."

"Oh, but of course you will. You will come and stay with me. You will be my dear friend always; and Karl's too, when he knows how you saved me to-night. And it will never be lonely there any more."

"How came you to be in Pesth to-night then?" I asked, smothering the sigh which her last words impelled.

"I suppose I did wrong to come. A wife should obey her husband, of course, but I couldn't help it. You see, lately his father has kept Karl so much here that I have scarcely seen him; and something is going to happen; I shan't be alone then; and--you understand, I wanted to let my father know I was married before my child was born. I wrote this to Karl, and--it was naughty and wicked of me, I know--but when he would not consent, I came to Pesth to-day and surprised him."

"Yes, I think I understand," said I. It was easy to read now, indeed.

Her visit meant discovery for him, and he had improvised the means of getting rid of her which I had prevented. "He was very angry, I suppose?"

"At first, yes. He tried to make me go back to Sillien; but I could not. I could not, could I, Christabel? And when he saw I was in earnest--I can be firm when I will"--and she made a great effort to look resolute and determined--"and said I would go to my father to-morrow, he gave in and kissed me, and agreed to take me to his father and admit everything. We were on our way there when we were attacked. I knew his love for me would conquer in the end. How delighted he will be when he knows that after all I am safe."

"You will see him to-morrow and tell him. You know where to find him in the city here?"

Her face clouded. "That is a strange thing. He was so afraid of his father's anger that he dared not let me write to his home. He gave me an address in the Altga.s.se, but it is only a place where letters are received. But I shall find him, of course, easily."

"Would you take my advice, if I gave it?"

"In that, oh yes, of course. I know you are clever."

"It is to go straight to your father, Colonel Katona, and tell him all."

"Oh, no, no, no, I dare not now," she cried, shrinking timidly. "Karl made me take an oath to-day on the holy crucifix that, whatever happened, I would never tell my father without his permission."

"Why?"

"Because no one but Karl must break the news of our marriage to his father. No, no. I dare not. I dare not. I cannot break my oath. I should be false to the Holy Church." And at the mere thought of it she began to tremble.

It was clever; a stroke of almost diabolical cleverness; knowing the simple, trusting child, to close her lips by such an oath.

"You will not betray us?" she cried, taking alarm at my silence and serious expression. "You are my friend?"

"Yes, I am your friend, my dear, and will always be, if you want one."

She was a very tender little thing, and as I kissed her she threw her arms round my neck and clung to me. "And now, I'll give you some other advice--to go to bed; and after a night's rest, I daresay we shall see our way."

After I had seen her into bed and shown her that her room opened into mine, I went downstairs to think over all she had told me, all the tangle of trouble ahead for her, and its possible effects upon my course.

It was quite late when at length I went to bed; and I was lying unable to sleep in my perplexed anxiety when I heard her call out as if in fear. I started up and then she came running into my room.