Chapter XXI · A NEW FRIEND.

There was something of fierce elation in the mind of Horace Ramornie when he found himself alone! On giving his parole of honour that he should not go beyond a mile from the glacis of Yaila, it had been, of course, distinctly understood that his life must be respected, and his personal liberty too. Now the former had been threatened and the latter also! The compact had thus been vitiated by the Russian Major-General, so Ramornie was free—free to escape when or how he could!

He knew the contingencies; that he was certain of a degrading captivity if three days hence found him in Yaila, and certain of death if he fled from it and was retaken. Anyway, to free Gwendoleyne Wedderburn was worth risking all for, and that evening he resolved the attempt should be made, minus though he was of arms, money, or a guide. He would simply adopt the plan she had conceived; he should meet her and Madame Tegoborski at the pine wood; assume that lady's place in her vehicle and drive off, testing the speed and muscle of the Tartar ponies to the utmost, and the whole matter seemed very easy, provided no interruption occurred by the way.

The plan was only a little horse-stealing from the enemy, and under the high pressure of the circumstances quite justifiable.

About an hour before the projected design, he left Yaila by the barrier-gate, as if for one of his usual solitary strolls, but not without an increased beating of the heart, as he fancied that every stolid-looking Russian sentinel in his flat cap and hideous long clay-coloured coat, eyed him more keenly than was their wont; but this was the mere result of feverish anxiety; and he proceeded slowly along the ancient road that led towards the Black Sea, whose waters he could see in the distance, rippling in golden light at the end of a valley. He frequently paused and seated himself on the grass, again to walk slowly on, thanking his stars that the two Cossacks, Alexis and Ivan—their surnames he never knew—who had been wont to hover, singly or together, so mysteriously on his steps, or within his range of vision, were now absent, having been sent with poor Bob Newnham to Yekaterinoslav.

Sometimes he clasped his hands and looked upward. Was it possible that this night might see him a free man; free, with Gwenny by his side, and within a few miles of the British outposts?

There are few places where one has been resident even for months only that they do not quit with regret; but Ramornie simply loathed Yaila in all its features; the green painted cannon, each with a red cross on its breech, the brick-faced curtains and embrasures, constructed by Baron Todleben, who had also patched up the old towers of the days of Justinian and of the Genoese; the angular visages and tattered uniforms of the garrison; the green slopes around and the flat outline of that "table mountain," the Tchatr Dagh towering over all!

Heaven be thanked, he was about to see the last of them—and with Gwenny, too!

He had read of, and fancied many a melodramatic incident; but scarcely conceived that in sober, civilized life such things could come to pass as had happened to him; yet our Afghan war, a few years before, and the subsequent Indian Mutiny, were alike full of terrible situations, painful and harrowing escapes and perils, undergone by lovers and friends, by husbands, wives and their children! But who can foresee the sudden and startling contingencies that are consequent to a state of warfare, especially in wild and lawless lands?

And now, beyond all their present peril, as he threw himself on the green sward to think and ponder, Horace Ramornie looked forward fondly to spending his future life—a happy home life—with Gwenny, as to a promised land, where they should talk over the present with wonder, and even with pleasure!

He was now on the skirts of the pine wood, and being quite concealed by some little caper bushes, could watch the road that led to the quaint old fort on the green hill slope. The crimson light of the setting sun was glowing redly on the gnarled stems and twisted branches of the old forest. All were shining as if with flame, and the birds were singing their last notes loudly amid the wiry foliage. The dry cones were dropping, and the field mice were scampering homeward to their holes under the long rank grass.

Beyond the green Babugan mountains, he could see that the road wound through a shady dell, where the tall white poplar, the dwarf almond and the pretty linden tree grew together in luxuriance; and by that valley he knew they should have to pass in their flight, after he had possessed himself of Madame's equipage. But how was he to dispose of her, and prevent her giving an alarm that in ten or twenty minutes would ensure pursuit!

His eyes seldom turned from the gate of Yaila, as every instant he expected to see the shaggy ponies appear; and how, if Galitzin took it into his head to accompany them, as he frequently did? He always rode with a pair of revolver pistols in his holsters. As this idea occurred to him, Ramornie looked round for a suitable stone—but hark! There was a sound of hoofs and accoutrements in the valley, and very soon a detachment of Russian cavalry, some fifty files or so, came along at an easy trot, evidently from Tchorgoun.

They were all Don Cossacks, with grey fur caps and huge red moustaches, the twisted points of which were quite visible from behind; their blue tunics worn halfway to the knee were girt by scarlet sashes, and their wide loose trowsers were thrust into their coarse jack-boots; and so defiling past, and chanting a rude hoarse ditty, they passed through the archway and entered Yaila, greatly to the mortification of Horace; for thus Galitzin had at hand swift, ready and instant means of an effectual pursuit and recapture in every direction!

Another hour, to the anxious lurker a seeming eternity, passed away, and the sun, which had been above the marble summit of the Tchatr Dagh when he first came forth, had sunk behind it now, and his ruddy golden rays spread skyward among the light floating clouds, like the spokes of a fiery wheel, while the singular outlines of the Dimirdji and Babugan mountains rose in purple and black against the red evening clouds. The odour of the wild thyme came pleasantly on the passing wind. The monotonous plash of the water sounded ceaselessly from an ancient stone fountain near—a relic of the Genoese; but though athirst with feverish anxiety Ramornie never drew near it. Close by too were purple grapes, ripe figs, soft peaches and blooming nectarines all growing wild; but he heeded nothing. He ever turned his eyes to Yaila; but the archway appeared only as a black spot in the walls, from whence nothing seemed to issue.

A knowledge that the place where he lay was beyond his paroled distance, added to his anxiety, so his suspense, dread and doubt, amounted ere long to actual pangs of bodily pain. Was she ill?

"Oh what can have happened—why do not they come?" he continued to exclaim from time to time, long after there could be any chance of the Hospoza Tegoborski taking her evening drive.

Suddenly the boom of a cannon gave him a species of electric shock. A thin white puff was curling upward from the northern bastion of the fort, and he saw the Russian Cross streaming out upon the wind, which brought the sound of drums towards him. Had the garrison received information of an attack? What had happened? He had not a moment to lose now, for even if he saw the columns in red pouring through yonder valley, he must return and report himself to the officer of the main guard—more than all he must return to where she was, and on entering, he found the whole garrison under arms, in two quarter-distance columns, with bayonets fixed, and a fresh supply of ammunition being rapidly distributed from casks which were strewed in front of each regiment.

His heart beat high and happily. An attack, he though, must be expected; and those Don Cossacks were the forewarners of it!

"Do you expect an attack, Monsieur le Colonel?" he inquired in French, of old Tegoborski, as that personage limped past. "I presume those Cossacks brought the intelligence?"

"They have brought none, Monsieur," said Galitzin, ere the Pulkovnick could reply. "They are simply the convoy I spoke of, en route to Yekaterinoslav, whither you shall go with them in two days now," he added, with his old smile. He had a peculiarly malevolent pleasure in hurting the feelings of others—of the young especially; for as his own youth was long past, he hated that joyous period of life in any one else.

There was no attack, and the night passed away in peace; but the whole of this sudden alarm and preparation, which thus baffled the plans and hopes of the prisoner, were the mere result of Russian superstition.

The bell of the chapel had fallen from its rusty hook, decayed by time and exposure. This was deemed by the garrison in general, and by Galitzin in particular, as significant of some dire and impending calamity, because the Muscovites deem all bells as something sacred, and when in the preceding February, a great bell fell in the tower of St. Ivan Veliki at Moscow, crashing through four floors in succession and killing all the inmates, it was regarded as the omen of some much greater calamity to Russia; thus, on the day after, news reached the Holy City of the death of the Emperor Nicholas!

Ramornie cursed, in his heart, the wretched superstition by which his only plan had been marred. But one evening now remained to the fugitives, and if it proved one of rain; if Madame Tegoborski had the vapours, or was indisposed to drive, the noon of the third day would see him once more under escort, and accompanying those red-whiskered Don Cossacks, towards the Isthmus of Perecop.

Though Ramornie knew it not, and feared the worst from the plump fair Muscovite with the sleepy eyes, large hands, and snowy arms, she was neither an enemy to him or Gwenny.

With all a woman's quickness, she had seen and discovered their secret—that they were lovers. From a quiet point, through an eyelet-hole, she had overlooked their recent interview which Galitzin had so unceremoniously interrupted, and she became earnestly desirous of succouring them for their sakes, and somewhat for her own, that she might remove from Yaila and the Prince's vicinity, a rival so wealthy, beautiful, and young; though she had a wholesome terror of him on one hand, and a little, perhaps, of her spouse, the Pulkovnick, on the other.

Lack of language—for she knew only her native Russ and a few stray words of German—rendered the difficulty of arrangements and explanations very great; but, most luckily for the conspiring trio, it chanced that at this very time there had arrived with the detachment of Don Cossacks, an officer of rank, deputed by the Princes Mentschicoff and Gortchakoff to inspect the garrison with its stores and report thereon, as both Kertch and Yenekale had been captured by the Allies, and several discrepancies had been detected in the nominal returns of Prince Galitzin; in short, the "men of straw," in his muster-rolls had been suspected, and the pressure of affairs in Sebastopol rendered further trifling impossible. So His Excellency had his hands full.

One interview with Gwenny and Ramornie sufficed to complete their new plan. Madame's arrangements were simply and speedily made for their flight, and, in a burst of gratitude, he threw his arms around her ample waist and kissed her on both cheeks—a process to which, as he was a more than usually good-looking young fellow, she submitted with the best grace in the world.

Taking advantage of the confusion—almost consternation—and occupation of Galitzin and the Pulkovnick, Madame arranged that she should ride her saddle-horse, a fine and active Tartar one, next evening to the pine wood, accompanied by Gwenny on foot. There Ramornie was to precede them, and lie perdue as before. She would mount the lady, and he must lead her bridle; their way should lie through the Baider Pass, some fifty English miles to Balaclava. They must travel in the night, conceal themselves by day, and trust for the rest to God, she added, bowing to the eikon in the corner.

She did more: knowing the great risk run by Ramornie if he travelled in a red coat (or the remains of that which once had been a red coat) she supplied him with a Russian caftan of canvas, girt in the approved fashion with a rope. Still he was without arms, and he donned this ungraceful attire, never reflecting the while, that if he appeared thus within range of a sentinel of the Allies, he might be shot ere he could answer a single inquiry.

All succeeded beyond even their fondest anticipations; and when, next evening, the shadow of the Tchatr Dagh fell on the pine wood and the valley of the wild almond and linden trees, Madame Tegoborski was lingering on the Yaila road, looking back, and kissing her hand to the retiring figures of Ramornie and Gwenny, whose newly acquired horse he led by the bridle, as they descended into a steep dark glen that they believed was ultimately to lead them to the Pass of Baider.