CHAPTER XXXII
A LETTER FROM SIBERIA
WHEN the old Matoushka saw her little victim carried swiftly away by the current, she stood paralysed, watching till Velia was out of her sight. Had she thrust the child in? She could not answer the question to herself. What could she do now? There was not a creature in sight. The nearest house was Yarina's, but it was on the other side of the river, and the bridge across was nearly half a mile off. The body would have sunk, or drifted far away, before she could get any help.
How she reached her hut, trembling and tottering under her load of wet clothing, she hardly knew. She sat down and did nothing. It crossed her mind that she would have to account for Velia's disappearance, but she had not strength sufficient to drag herself into the village. She swallowed a small glass of vodka, yet that did not give her courage enough to face the inquiries and remarks of her neighbours. Well, it would be of no use now. The girl was drowned. What will be, will be!
Doggedly she set about getting her supper, but she could not rid her mind of the vision of the girl drowning. She lit one wick of her lamp, but the corners of the hut were very dark, and she soon lighted all three. The silence was alarming; there was no frightened footfall or pitiful sigh in the hut. The old Matoushka tried to laugh away her own fancies, but in the stillness she could hear the terrified scream uttered by Velia when she fell into the river.
It was a great relief when she heard the familiar footstep of her friend Okhrim. He entered the illuminated hut, blinking as he came in from the darkness.
"Ah!" he said. "Why, Matoushka, are you having a feast?"
"No, no," she answered; "I'm in great trouble. I've something serious to tell you."
"Velia drowned!" he exclaimed, when she had finished her account. "Do you know what folks are sure to say?"
She could guess very well what would be said. Okhrim chuckled inwardly, and said to himself, "Now I have her between my finger and thumb."
"You're sure you didn't push her in?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied in a tremulous voice.
"Do you think they'll believe that?" he asked again.
She did not answer.
Okhrim sat silent for some time, lost in thought. Then he looked at her with triumphant cunning.
"I advise you to let her disappear," he said. "Clava disappeared from the church-house in Father Cyril's time, and why shouldn't Velia? Wake up to-morrow and find her gone. Go at once and tell the Batoushka; and come to me as Starosta. If the body is found, it will account for the disappearance. I'll report it to the authorities at Kovylsk."
"Oh, you're a true friend," she said, sobbing.
She fetched out her best vodka, and brought some bread and cheese, and sat by, not able to eat, and marvelling silently at a man's appetite. After it was satisfied, Okhrim resumed the conversation.
"And now," he said, "you'll let me have that little sum I want to borrow."
"What interest will you give me?" she asked timidly.
"We'll settle that by and by," he answered, with a sneer. It would not be necessary now to marry the old widow. He could squeeze what money he liked out of her.
Some months after Michael and Velia reached Scotland, they received the following letter from their father:—
"BELOVED CHILDREN,—Grace be with you, mercy, and peace from God the Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father, in truth and love. Let us first praise God for His tender mercies both towards you and towards us. Our kinsman in Odessa has written me concerning you. May the blessing of God Almighty rest upon him and Father Cyril! I long to hear from yourselves that you prosper and are in health, and that your souls prosper.
"I charge you, my beloved son, that you use all diligence in your studies; especially that, as far as possible, you learn something of healing, that when you return to us, you may be like Luke, the beloved physician. This knowledge will be useful to you wherever your 'lost' is cast. Let my well-beloved Velia learn all that a woman should know: how to nurse the sick, teach and bring up children, make garments, guide the house, and glorify the Lord in doing little things. These things do, and you will gladden your father's heart.
"For ourselves, the loving-kindness of our God towards us is marvellous. I will write you particulars. He has given us favour in the eyes of our neighbours; more especially of the police officer and Starosta, who is a Mongol, and cares nothing about our religion. I do all his writing and accounts for him; and he deals pleasantly with us. We have made a decent home—or homes, rather—of the hut and its barns; and we live in great harmony and peace together. Katerina has another child to comfort her for the babe she lost on the journey. All the rest are well both in body and soul. As we are dwelling not far from the frontier of Mongolia, Khariton Kondraty and his son Sergius are learning the Mongol language, to the intent that when our term of banishment is over, they may go forth, even as our Lord sent His first disciples, to preach the kingdom of God. He said, 'Freely ye have received, freely give.' It is the bread of life and the water of life they will give to a hungered and thirsty nation.
"Rejoice, my children, Paraska has joined her husband, Demyan. She came to Irkutsk in the service of the Countess Nesteroff, whose son, Valerian, is in exile in Saghalien. Paraska came herself to tell us, and to bring news of our dear little ones left behind in Knishi. They stand fast, poor lambs! in our faith; all but the infants who were too young to know anything of it. Yet we trust them to Him who took little children into His arms, blessing them. Paraska further told us that Paul Rodenko's wife, Halya, has joined him in Saghalien; and that his letters are full of courage, and thanksgiving to our Father in heaven. There, as well as here, there are souls eager to listen to the glad tidings of salvation; and in every place of banishment whither our people go, the Lord's name is magnified. Is not this better than houses and lands, and the honour and praise of men? 'I will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.' Remember these words, my beloved ones. Our term of banishment will end in 1904. What we shall then do, God alone knows. But if it be His will, I will meet my son at Odessa—a young man then—and we will confer together how we can serve both our Lord and our country. For Russia is dear to us all; the people are our people; the Czar is our ruler, whom God has set over us. We are ready, not only to be in bonds, but to die for Russia. We dedicate ourselves and our children to the well-being of our fatherland. God save Russia!
"May the blessing of God rest upon all your mother's kindred! We cannot recompense them, but they shall be recompensed by Him who said, 'Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward.'
"Now, my beloved, 'unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.'"
THE END
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