"STAR " TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9305, 4 August 1908, Page 4

"STAR " TALES.

, « — THE OUTBURST, (By JOHN *FINNEMORE.) [Axa Rights Resxbved.] , CHAPTER I. In a large room of a great liussiar; kjuntry house a girl sat writing at t [able. A single glance at her would have told that here was no Slav, no native of the soil. She was a little abe-ve middle size, and her brown hair. hazel eyes and the charming oval of her face marked her as au English girl. Evelyn Bridge war. English to tho i'hd. of her dainty finger-tips, but (V $he last two years she had boe/i an in mat© of tho vast palaco of Prince Yer ttioloff, four hundred versts to the Routh-east of St Petersburg. She wa f ticither : governess nor companion, but botween the two. She re-f! jsnef talked English with the two daughters of the house, she wrote the Ens: Hsh letters of the princess. Her duties were very easy, her salary «'»' jrefy good, and the younc. YermoloftV ♦rere the best of friends to her. Yet ir, thia autumn of 1905, Evelyn, felt vorv j&neasy amid the splendour which sur founded her. She often thought wjtl> longing of the quiet, homely English lafety of the little vicarage under the North Downs, the spot which meant pome to her. At; this moment sho was writing to Jier mother, and saying, in reply to » j Irery anxious letter that she had received, that so far the wide lands which pwtt,ed the rule of Prince Ycrmoloff j Were unswayed by tho spirit of revolt which had flamed up so ii&rcely an? 1 juiddenly among the peasantry. This toas strictly true, for the mouiiks haf 1 *a yet shown no sign of uprising, but %ii unrest pervaded the country, an unrest which Evelyn felt as strongly a? Ehyono, but no hint of which she dared tojlV into her letter lest it should fur&?r alarm anxious hearts at home. •i. She' looked up from her notepaper. lj|j(| 4 .glanced round the room. The W|ibl^ ; taBt palace was a marvel of the luxury which wealth, can obtain. She Wfts ..'Bitting in the crimson saloon, a |H«at>.apartirent, of which the splendid wfeite-and-e old furniture was upholstered in crimson damask. The walls •mere panelled with crimson damask #lso, and the floor was covered by a priceless crimson carpet. This room #as bnt one of a suite, the others being adorned in. like manner in yellow, jKJue >and green. Evelyn had become accustomed now to the splendour of fche.etately mansion, but at first she fcad felt as if she had been transported into tho midst of the Arabian Nights. She finished her letter and glanced at her watch. In an, hour and a half the, Princess would need her. Vr> to that foment 'she was quite free and -'he resolved to go for a good walk while still the sun' was high above the vaet pine Wood whioh encircled the chateau. Ten lininntes later, she let herself out at a jiide door opening on the gardens, crossed the latter, and struck at a brisk pace down a broad avenue throueh the forest. Within ten minutes ?he had lost wgEt of the building and seemed to be n the midst of a primeval wilderne-s. Phe park lay on the other side of the jouse, and this was untouched woodand, a sweep of thick growing pine |nd hemlock with gnarled trunks and mossy branches. Suddenly from a cross path which debouched into the avenue, a tall figure appeared, with a gun in tho hollow of hie arm. At the next moment His cap was swept off. "Good morning. Miss Bridge," he called cheerily, and Evelyn smiled and responded, "Good morning, Mr Gormm " They stopped and shook hancta It kas quite clear they were very friendfcr> as become compatriots, living among grangers in a far-off land. George forddh was a tall, straight, handsome jinng fellow of eight-.and-twenty, and \t seventeen years of his life he had fred on the Yermoloff estate. Seventeen years before the Prince, Ired of lazy and incompetent Russian jrerseers', had written to a friend of his la Scotland; and begged him to IT manager in whom a bewildered own£r could put faith. ■: In response to this request, Robert Gordon had appeared, and taken affaire into his "capable Scotch hands, and tho Prince had blessed his lucky Itars. Robert, who was a widower, had been ; accompanied by his. son George, and the boy had grown up on the estate- When George was twenty-four his father had died, but th© son was at onoe confirmed in the post which his father hnd held. Nor was it a position to be despised. Tho salary was twelve thousand roubles and a fino house on th© outskirts of the village. The house was altogether too big for George, and he had been feeling lonely in it. But ot late he had' been turning ; enrer in his mind a remedy for this, aad now he was hoping with all his heart that/ he might be able to persuade Evelyn. Bridge to etay in Russia and chare it with him. But as yet he had not said a word. " Mi 23 Bridge," said George, " I Iwpe you are not going far." *' Only a stroll through the forest and back," she said; "why do you «ak?" |T These aTe queer times, you know, ' •raid George. "The country is in a frightful uproar. It's quiet hore at present, but we never know when the storm may break." "Have you any fresh news?" asked '''.Sralyn. "Well, there was a disturbance the Bay before yesterday, "_ said Geor^u gravely. "Over at Bielostok, about seventy versts away, the peasants attaoked a manor-house, plundered fifd tyirnt it. The owner and his tamilv had to fly for their lives." n How dreadful 1" said Evelyn. **1 was iv Wenden (the local •"own) y«eterdiiy," went on George, "aivl there are great difficulties- there. The fcrak has stopped payment, and halt the merchants are ruined." "The state of the country is !«*arfulj' 1 ' murmured Evelyn. -■"Yes," said George. "I am glad 1 Haven't a kopeck at stike in the ftuaness. But my father never tniFt)kd'a Russian bank for a moment. The

111 distance made it awkward, but Hp fl-ways-pinned his faith on the old bank in Edinburgh that he knew, and evil's have proved that he was very wise. At this moment a horseman trotted ilono- the avenue. It was Prince Yer:nolcff himself, whom George wished to see. Tne young man took leave of Evelyn and" went to join the magnate; 10 i^-no-iush girl resumed her walk. Within twenty minute 6 she reached a little hamlet lying in the woods, the point at which she intended to turn baok. But .before turning she could not help standing to gaze upon the scene and contrast it with the gW-tej-in" 1 magnificence she had so lately leit. Just as' the chateau was the highest embodiment of the splendour amid which man may live, co the huts or thfwf peasants Vero the lowest and filthiest forms of the squalor amid which life may be still maintained. Each hut was no more than a wretchea cabin of a single room, mud-walled, straw-thatched, ~ damp, incredibly and horribly dirty, with heaps of rotting .filth before each door. This wa6 not the main village of the estate. That lav far away beyond the great pine woedfi. This was only a knot of cottagws inhabited by the woodmen who cut" fuel for the great house, and 60 were permitted to live, within a mile and a half of it. On her way back, Evely 1 took a slightly different path, and came upon half a dozen of the wocdmeri engaged in. cutting up and removing a great pine which had fallen in a recent etorm. Again she stood and looked at these peasants with a new interest, for were not the fellows of these men breaking out into open and violent revolution, burning, destroying, killing, if their victims were not warned in timer At the present moment nothing seemed more than that these men should break out into deeds of violence. True, they were huge, shaggy fellows, with unkempt hair and beard, and looked as rude and wild a 6 men could look. But they were so humble and sn!vniV«ive in thpir demeanour that it seemed one need fear them no more than one feared tho big patient oxen in the plough. Yet, however, there was one point to be taken into consideration, and that was oxen had no taste for vodka, the cheap,, fiery, poisonoue spirit which turned these big quiet fellows into (dangerous madmen. This thought crossed Evelyn's mind as she walked onwaid. CHAPTER 11. Dusk had closed in that evening, and George Gordon was sitting at his desk before a large window in a room on the ground floor of his house. He was writing letters, when he heard a faint scratching: on the window before him. He looked up and saw, for tho blinds had not bee i drawn, that a hand with five fingers outstretched was laid flat against the glass. Nothing else was to be. seen, but he understood the signal at once. It had been arrangedso that ; tho man outside could talk with him without the servants of the house being any wiser as to who had come and gone. George wont at otice to the door and locked it. He put out his lamp, and I w*>en *^c room was in darknecs opened ! the window, which reached within a j foot of the ground. The new-comer 1 stepped in, and then every blind was 1-drawn close and the lamp was relight- ! cd. The raye of the lamp showed I George the short, spare familiar figure J of the Starosta, the Elder of the vili lage, the president of the village coun--1 cil. ' j "What now, Pavlo?" said George. ("There's something wrong?" He j spoke in Russian, for ho had mastered ; that difficult language till it slipped as j easily from his lips as from those of a ' ' native. "Excellency," said Pavlo, "it is all i wrong. Our time of trouble has como. There are wild folks in the village tonight." I "Who are theyP When did they come?" demanded George. He had I been in the village some three hours before. It had been quiet enough then. i " Tney are revolutionists," murmur- > ed the Starosta. "They came about ; ! two hours ago. There are twenty or - thirty of them. Most were on root, L but they had a carriage full of wound- • ed with them." " Wounded !" cried George. " What do you mean?" " Excellency, there has been a riot ' on an estate thirty versts to the south, j ? I But Cossacks were fetched and there j I waa a fight. The soldiers won, and j this party has fled, from the battle. They say th*> + many were killed." } George nodded. His mind was works ing quickly, and it was made up in an - | instant. j I "You're a good old chap, Pavlo, to

fun to mo with the news/ ho said, patting tho Starosta on the shoulder. "It may mean much or it m;iy mean little. It depends on what sort of people these are who have dropped into the village. In any case, things must bo looked after without delay." . He put out the lamp, and this time both passed through the window and went towards the stables. Five minutes later tho Starosta was returning towards the village, and George Gordon was galloping at full speed for the chateau. When he arrived at the great house he sent in his card to the Prince, marking it in one corner with a cabalistic sign which his patron, and his patron alone, would understand. In consequence, lie was taken by the Prince's own attendant by narrow and private passages to a small cabinet where the master awaited his coming. Prince Yermoloff was a tall, thin man of fifty, pale-faced, and wearing a careless look of dignity, which was not unkindly. In many ways he was typically Russian. He was not harsh to the peasants on his vast estate, and on the other hand, he did not concern himself greatly with their welfare. To him it seemed perfectly natural that a peasant should live in a hovel, and a prince in a palace, and he left it at that. H© was merely one of that great band of Russian landlords who were now being taught some elemen- j tary lessons as to the rights of man, in so dreadful a fashion. "Well, Gordon," he said in English, "what does this me&n? You have marked your card with the danger sig- ; nal, so 1 am meeting you well out of earshot of the ladies." George told his tale and the Prince's brow darkened. " A band of revolutionists in the village," he muttered. "That looks bad.' ? He deliberated for a few moments, thon raised his head. " We'll go and see what they're doing," he said; " we'll go as a couple of peasants, Gordon," and George bowed agreement. Mfteen minutes later the Prince and the young {Scotsman slipped out of a ; small private postern door and mount- i ed a couple ol horses which were held ready for them by a groom. They trot- j ted away along an avenue which led : them .at once out of sight of the house, j and the groom followed. Half a mile j from the village they, dismounted in a | thick wood, left • the horses with the J servant, and pushed forward on foot, j Both were disguised as peasants. They wore huge shaggy sheepskins, for though the snow had not yet come the autumn night was bitterly cold, and their caps were pulled low over their ears. These great coats and caps, with i their trousers stuffed into huge clumsy boots, and a bristling pair of false moustaches on each face, hid their identities completely. It was the Prince's own village into which he was walking, yet he well knew that if a certain spirit bad been raised by the revolutionists it were safer for him to j walk into a den of lions. Hence the need for disguise. And it followed that Gordon must be disguised also, or the identity of his companion might be suspected. Almost at the entrance to the village stood a kabak, the village publichouse. The uproar within and around it was deafening. Vodka had done its vile work on the moujiks and a babel of j drunken outcries rang out on the 1 night. The Prince and George thrust their way through a knot of disputing men at the door and entered the place. For a second the filthy reek caught them by the throat and choked them ; then they breathed again. The smell of the spirit, the disgusting odour^ of close-packnd and unwashed humanity, the air which had been breathed over and over again, all mingled to nause- | nte those coming in from the sweet eld freshness of the pinewoods, but they crushed back the rtau. c en and wished on to find where their danger lay, and to find how far the moujiks had been roused against their master. They found , that up to trie nrerent drinking h?d been the order of the doy, and that the speaTung was about to commence. The first to address the crowded throng of half -drunken peasants was a tall, tHn, pale-faced man, n, shoemaker in Wen don, well known for his advanced^ opinions. He rrnt forward +^c familiar auction of the down -trodden condition of the Pnwjfin workers, and of the line they must take to better their hopeless state .^ He was nlear, sound and convincing, pnd George kneiy that the ti"n was right, that something must be done. The next speaker wns n fir! of eio;htoen. a s^ort, broad, thick-pet girl, a student who had boen sent home from the "University of Moscow, and who had been in the fray that day. Acrnpp her faro was a srent rmrple weal, and she laid *»er finger on it. "Tliis. monjikF." she paid, "this is the answer of the authorities to our appeal for justice. Tho Cossack naTnilca. +^^ Hifjo w^ in vMcb hptirrs at his saddlrc-bow, a la<»li from that is the only answer we receive, " and then she plunged into a, torrent of denunciation wlii"^ ~nTieerl hpr h^aT*"*" to fTPTIZV. "Kill," cried the wild voice, "kill them all, these proud aristocrats who eat off plate of gol l while children die of famine-fever in the huts on their estate. Let them know that there is | a limit to their power, that they too can suffer as well as we." George began to feel profoundly uneasy and to regret that the Prince had taken this fashion of finding out what was happening in his village. These were no ox-like moujiks, these palefaced, wild-eyed revolutionaries, fresh from a battle where they had seen their friends fall by Cossack shot and steel. Then an awful proof of their sufferings was exhibited. After reaching the village a badly-wounded man had died, and now the body was raised on the platform where the speakers stood, and was shown to they audience. " Look on this," shrilled the frenzied voice of the Moenad-like girl. " See, Stepan was this morning as you are. He talked with us, he laughed, he was eagei for the good of the people. Here is the answer of those who rule over us." She tore aside the dead man's shirt, and showed the gaping wound \in his breast. " Stepan was answered with the bayonet. What answer shall we give?"

The question was received with a savage yell ; the wolves in tho great forest closo by could not have raised a more dreadful cry. Tht-n a frightful thing happened. Prince Yermoloff had pushed his way deeper into tho crowd than George, and they were separated. Ho required tho use of a handkerchief, and what did the unhappy man do, without thinking, but draw" out his own delicately-scented cambric handkerchief from the pocket of the fine clothes covered by the great sheepskin. Through the foul air George caught a waft oi ! the- exquisite scent and saw what the Prince had done; he had destroyed his incognito. Beside the Prince stood a short man who turned and seized the handkerchief as the scent reached his nostrils. " What is this?" screamed the revolutionist, "you are no tnoujik. You are a spy." A score of hands seized the unlncky Yermoloff, and tore away his cap, his coat, hih disguise. "The Prince!' 5 roared., fifty voices, and then uprose wild yells of " Aristocrat," "Spy," "Traitor." Yermoloff turned to thrust his way through the crowd, but a savage foe was upon him at once. A knife flashed in the air behind him, and was then buried deep between his shoulders. He pitched forward on his face, and the maddened crowd of enemies to his order closed over him as a pack of wolves c 1033 over a dying stag. For five' seconds George fought like a madman to gain his patron's side. ;He fought in vain. The close-packed ! seething mass of foes who struck and clubbed at tho fallen noble was not to be penetrated. Then a thought flashed into tho Scotsman's brain, and he turned and pushed from tho kabak. Nothing could be done for the Prince. What of the four helpless women, in the chateau? In that yelling, whirling throng his jnovemetnts had drawn no suspicion on him, and he was soon in the open air. He ran at full epeed to the spot where j the groom had been left. There were i the horses, but there was no sign of I the man. George leapt on the back of the Prince's big bay, for he knew it j was the fastest, and galloped madly for : the chateau. He dismounted at the great dcor, arid ran up the steps. The porter admitted him, and he sent the man at once with a message to Evelyn, asking her to come to him in a small ante-room opening from the hall. In, a few momenta she came ; a horrible pang went through George at sight of that graceful figure gliding towards him "across the wide hall. He knew the contraction of heart which seizes one who 6eos a dearly-beloved pereon in danger. Evelyn 6tepped into the room, and. started for a moment at sight of George in peasant drees. He had plucked away the disguise from hie face. Then she came swiftly towards him. " What is it. Mr Gordon?" she i?nid " You have come with ill news. You are pale as death !" "Very ill news. Miss Bridge," said George, quietly. " 1 must tell you, for it will fall to you to break it to the Princess." Evelyn nodded, but did not speak. Her great bright eyes were fixed intently o^ George's face. Sho was pale to the lips when he had finished his story, but she did not flinch. " Then we are all in danger," she said in n low voice. *' In great danger," said George, " if thpy attack the hoa6e." "T will go to the Princess at once," ssid Evelyn" "Come with me — she will wish to see you." They had crossed the hall, and were at the head of the flight of stairs which ran up to the apartments occupied by the family, when both stopped dead and looked at each other. A tremendous uproar had broken out in some distant part of the house, in the servants' quarters. "They know. They have heard," said George, ard Evelyn nodded. How tho news had flashed thither they never knew. Either by the groom or by som« other swift messenger the story of the Prince's fate was already known in his palace and nmong his servants. " Run on," cried George. "I will wntch.' 1 Evelyn flew forward and George ' waited anxiously. He had not liked ! the sound of the uproar at all. Certainly it was not the cry of grief. It fioundod much more like mischief. Two minutes later a door opened in the direction of the wild outcries, and tho figure of an elderly man rushed across the hall. Hie clothes were torn and dishevelled, blood was streaming across his face from a wound in his head It was Ivan, the house steward, and he was pursued by a mob of footmen in gay livery, huge fellows one and all, for they had been picked for their size. "Ah !" murmured George to himself, " rebellion within and without. Here's a frightful fix." Ivan was running for the stairs. It was clear that he meant to warn the family, and that his subordinates intended if possible to prevent him. One pursuer was far ahead of the rest, a heavy cudgel in his hand. He gained upon the older man, he swung his stick oh high, but it never fell. George's hand darted under the sheepskin and • drew out the revolver which he had I slipped into his pocket upon neai'ng the Starcsta's news-. There was 1 a lr.:id crack, and a puff of smoke iddied slowly up The heavy .495 bullet struck the huge mutineer, and he drop-. i ped as if he had been felled with a poleaxe. This checked the pursuit, and Ivan scrambled up the stairs. "They have gone mad," he panted; "they speak or the death of the Prince; they shout for joy; they talk of plundering tile house." "Look here, Ivan/ said Geonr© shortly ; " can these rascals get at tho .ladies by any other stair than this?" ; "Only the little stairs on the other side," panted the steward. "Then run +h rough and make the d<v** s"'" " s : ' George. He followed the steward from the landing through the door which led to two L~..A,.y u^rtaHmi.s, ana shot th* great bolt on the- inner side. He was dragging forward a heavy sofa to further bar the entrance, when Evelyn came swiftly to his side. " Oh, Mr Gordon." i she cried, " what new terror is this?" "They have risen indoors as ■well as i out," said Gtoige. "Listen!

The uproar had broken out ai'W in the great hall. The muti.ieer* were howling vengeance on the boo baud which had checked their r.ivr-ierous' rush . Evelyn came near and la?cl a haml on the rough sheepskin. 'vßiil. Mr Gordon," ehe said in a low voice, 'mvliv should you stay in this dyngeiO- ; >K place? In your disguise yon could easily pass through tiiem and escape " George turned and too!: iwr hai>d. Her wale faea flushed at ono with a warm colour, but she did not wkluhbw the hand he had seized. "And leave you, Evelyn, 1 ' he ft id, " and leave you, when for a long time now I have been only waiting ail opportnnity to tell you thau I iove you dearly, that your velfare is a l.;i!idr»J times more precious to m»? thau n>y own existence." He threw the shaggy avm of his grr-at sheepskin coat rouni her pretty ev< ning dress and drew hr to. hi? fide. Her answer was in her beautiful fi'efe, and for a second the lovers pinna; together and their lipa met. Then a trc««t.ndous crash against the nt Uie'r side brought them back to Hio n»»wls of their desperate situation, and thxiv liurried to join the rest o 1 th«* pa'ty. Tlioy found the Pncuwi «wi<l her , daughters, pale and weeping, 'n the last room of the suite, where Iran stood at the door of the I'ttle stair- I case; '•Why have you not closed ibo door?" roared Jeorge. " No, no I" said Ivan, "' all is quiet this way. I will lead the ladies to the stables. There is no one there. The men have all rushed up to the house. Then I will put a pair of horses in » light carriage and drive them to Wenden." '•'And safety, good!" replied George. " Away with you at once. I will keep these gentlemen in play." He nodded towards the distant door, where loud splintering crashes told that the furious crowd was breaking in the door he had barred against them. He tan back through tho rooms fearing that they were alreadj* in, but he found that the massive oaken door had not yet given, though there wero rents in it. He flew across the room, placed the mouth of his pistol in a gaping crack, and fired thrice. A furious outburst of oaths and yells told that the bullets had not gone astray, and the attacking crowd scattered and fell back. He waited moment after moment, counting the seconds ; he wished to give the ladies time to get clear of the house, then he would hurry after them. A faint sound came to his ear, and he glanced round. Evelyn was hurrying down the long room towards him. "They have gone," she whispered breathlessly. "Come now, quickly. You need stay no longer." " And you have come back to fetch me?" cried George, in a transport of grateful admiration, "oh! dearest, you should not have run the risk." " A fine thing if I had gone off with them, and left you uncertain when to follow," said Evelyn dauntlessly, "all seems quiet here." "Yes, I have driven them off for the moment," said George. Hand in hand the lovers were hurrying for the little stairs, when George stopped and held Evelyn fast. "They are there! They are there!" he hissed below his breath. It was only too true. Heavy feet clattered on the little stairs, rude rough voices rang up the narrow staircase. Beset both sides. What now were the lovers to do? Georgo Gordon did not hesitate for an instant. They were crossing an unlighted room, and he leapt to the window, and flung it open. It was a clear twenty-foot drop to tho ground outside. He seized" the window curtains and tore them down as if they . had been rotten rags. He knotted them together, and lengthened them with the stoat silken cords which looped them back As he did so he whispered swift directions to Evelyn, and the, prompt, brave girl seconded him with the utmost pluck and coolness. In. a trice he had a loop round her waist, and she had poised herself 011 the sill. Then he let her down steadily and cautiously. As soon as the rope slacked he made his end fast to a stanchion and swarmed down it. As he swung himself out of the window he had a glimpse of a brutal crowd swarming into tho room and through it, intent on taking him in tho rear. It was the closest of close shaves. He dropped to the ground and found that Evelyn had already freed herself of the loop. They took each other's hands and fled into the darkness of the thickgrowing shrubberies. Not until they were far from the house did they paiise to draw a breath and savour the sweetness of escape. At that instant they heard the roar of a great mob approaching the chateau by the main avenue. " The revolutionists and five hundred moudjiks to back them have arrived," said George. " The obatf au will be a haap of •uhes by morning. We must strike right away at once." "Hush!" said Evelyn in hie ear. " I hear the sound of a horee's feet." They remained perfectly still, and in a moment the horse passed them. But it was riderless, and George knew it at once. It was the big bay. He had turned it loose when he leapt from its back, and the creature was wandering about cropping the grass here and there In a trice George had caught it. " Here's luck,'* he murmured. " Now ' we'll soon be in Wenden." He swung Evelyn up to the front of the broad eaddlo and sprang behind her. Then tho big bay. to whom the double burden was a leather-weight, was headed for an avenue which would carry them clear of th* track of all enemies. They were within three versts of Wenden and could already 6ee the lights of the town when they drew up towards a carriage travelling at a good 6peed. The wind brought back to them the cracks of a whip and the voice of an eagei' driver. "It is Ivan," said George; "tho Princess and her daughters are safe." " And we are safe now," said Evelyn. "We shall bs in Wenden soon." "Yes, dearest, but wo won't srfcav there any ' longer than we can help, ' murmured George. " I'm sure you've had enough of Russia, and I know I have. We'll clear affairs up, and then I'll take you home and put you safe in your mother's hands. But you'll only stay there a little while, Evelyn, only a little while." i And the lovers held each other closer Btill.