Page:Elizabeth, or, The exiles of Siberia (1).pdf/12

                                   12 Elizabeth stood motionless. She now walked towards the door, and was about to quit the chapel, while Smoloff exclaimed—“Elizabeth ! have I offended you ? Ah! I call God to witness, that though my heart beats with love towards you, it feels also the most profound respect. How then have I offended you ? ”—‘ ‘ You have not, ” replied she mildly ; “ but I came here to speak to you only on behalf of my parents—now that you have listened to me, I have nothing more to say, and am going to them.” He then promised to confide to her the following Sunday at the church at Saimka, all the information and documents which she would require for the execution of her plan, and they parted. When Sunday came, Elizabeth and her mother went to Saimka, but Smoloff was not there : an old woman informed them he was gone to Tobolsk, at which Elizabeth changed colour, feeling much disappointed. Two months elapsed without seeing Smoloff at Saimka, and Elizabeth concluded he had forgotten her. One morning when Springer and his daughter were in the garden, the young Tartar ran towards them, crying out—“ M. de Smoloff is here,”—‘‘Oh my father,” said Elizabeth, “thy happy, happy daughter will break thy chains— God has called me to the undertaking, and sent Smoloff to clear the path for me!” On entering the room they were surprised to see a man about 50 years of age, in uniform, and attended by officers. This was the governor of Tobolsk, who, on seeing Springer, bade his attendants withdraw. He now addressed Springer as follows :—“ Sir, since the moment you were sent here by the court of Russia, this is the first time I have visited this circle : the occasion is pleasant to me, as it enables me to testify to an illustrious exile how much I sympathise with his misfortunes.” Springer replied, he expected nothing from man—he did not wish for pity, nor hope for justice, but could pass his days in these deserts without complaining. The governor said, ‘ ‘ Ah, sir, for a man like you to live so far from your country, is a dreadful destiny.” “It is yet more dreadful,” replied Springer, “to die so far from it. ” Elizabeth looked over her mother’s shoulder to ascertain if the air and physiognomy of the governor were expressive of benevolence and goodness that she might speak to him. The governor seeing her, said, “ Young lady, my son is known to you—you have made an indelible impression on him.”—“Did he tell you, sir, that she owes the life of her father to him? ” interrupted Phedora.. “ No madam, but he has told me she would give her own for her father and for you.” “She would,” said Springer, ‘ ‘ and her affection and tenderness are the only treasure now left.” The governor turned aside to conceal his emotions, and shortly informed Elizabeth that his son had been