only a few weeks ago he
said to me, `Child, if anything should happen to me, and you are plunged
into trouble or difficulty, seek out our dear friend, von Schalckenberg.
He will help you, if any man can.'"

"Of course, of course," answered the professor, beaming more
benevolently still, if that were possible, upon his visitor. "Your
father and I are old, staunch, and tried friends; and he does me no more
than justice in feeling that he, or his daughter, may absolutely rely
upon me to do gladly the utmost in my power for either of them. Now,
sit down, little Feodorovna, and tell me all about it."

The girl, with a sigh of relief and renewed hope, sank into the chair
that the professor placed for her, and began by asking--

"Did you ever, while in Saint Petersburg or elsewhere, meet a certain
Count Vasilovich, Professor?"

"Often, my dear; much more often, indeed, than I at all desired,"
answered the professor.

"He is a bad man, Feodorovna; a thorough-going scoundrel, without a
single redeeming trait. Has he anything to do with your trouble?"

"Alas, yes! he has everything to do with it, dear friend," answered
Feodorovna. "It was my misfortune to meet him last winter at a ball at
the Imperial Palace, and from that moment he began persistently to press
his odious attentions upon me. My dear father saw, with the utmost
alarm, the unfortunate turn that affairs had taken, and warned me
against the count. Not that any warning was necessary, for I seemed so
clearly to divine the nature and character of the man at a glance, that
nothing would have induced me to afford him the slightest encouragement.

"For a time the count contented himself with following me everywhere,
and making violent love to me upon every possible occasion; but at
length, about two months ago, finding that his attentions were so
clearly distasteful to me that there was no prospect whatever of his
suit being successful, he began to threaten--vague, covert threats at
first, but afterwards so outspoken that I felt I must fly from Saint
Petersburg, and seek safety in concealment. I spoke to my dear father
about it, and he--distressed as he was at the prospect of being
compelled to part with me--agreed that my only hope of safety lay in
flight; and twenty-four hours later I was, as I hoped, safe in the house
of a friend at Boroviezi. But on the day following my arrival at this
refuge, one of my father's servants, named Petrovich, appeared with t