The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-09-01

! handsome blue wooden dress and silk hand
kerchief. No one was forgotten, debts in
arrear were RENTED, and the young girl was
| suddenly told she might return for the win
| ter to her family, till her father could make
new arrangements for the payment in kind
! of what he owed.
This was no joyful news for the young
peasant girl, but resignation is an inherent
Russian virtue; she packed up her clothes in
basket, and one fine morning courageously
set out on foot for her native village. She
was received coolly by her mother. One
mouth more to feed! besides which, peasants
| are sparing of their demonstrations of alice
| ton. After a few days Mavra reapsed
into her old habits, bent all day over her
/ embroidery frame by the narrow window,
in the evening standing leaning against
| the door gazing, as was her won't at the
| stars. More than ever she loved them; be-
| hind these marvellous lights, that she
| llkened to tears-for she was often sad now
she saw the black eyes and handsome in
| different face that had taken possession OF
! her soul. AS long as she was staying in the
| grand Seignoral mansion, where the image
! of her idol met her at every step in familiar
| attitude, where she had only to close her
| eyes to see Serge before her, Mavra was hap
| py; she was of those for whom the innocent
| and daily presence of the beloved makes the
whole happiness of life. Here, where
nothing spoke of him. she felt for the first
time the pain of separation Uneasy she
| asked herself what it was that was torturing
| her to this degree, and the truth nearly
dawned upon her. But she stopped the
thought, not daring to sound it further, say
| ing to hersels that there must be at the root
| of all this suffering some great sin she her.
self was ignorant of. Morning and evening
she knelt long before the sacred images,
imploring God to deliver her
from her pain; and feeling herself
soothed by this effusion of mystic tender
ness, she kept her sadness to herself still re-
fusing to fathom it, But she was visibly
wasting away; the smoky atmosphere of her
home had now the same painful influence
upon her that the want of fresh air had
formerly when she first left her village. She
passed the winter suffering, accomplishing,
unrelaxing in her work. Gradually she
| gave up looking at the stars. Not only did
they more than ever look like tears, but no
sooner did she turn her eyes toward the night
| sky than they filled with tears, so that she
hardly knew whether it was the fires of
heaven or her own tears that sparkled be-
| geath her eyelids.
Spring came, though more tardily than
usual; then summer with its field labors.
| The Countess seemed to have forgotten
Mavra, who thought with ever more and
more resigned sadness of this much-loved
mistress.
| Her indulgence concerning the service
! dues of her family appeared to the young
| girl MOI Il ldNOIf DuJ punishment AZ hay
making as at harvest young lads seek out the
| girls Had Mavra wished it she might have
| found ten husbands. She was no longer
| quite young according to the notion of the
peasants who marry their daughters at six
! teen and their boys at twenty. She was get
ting on to twenty, and her mother at times
reproached her, treating her as a useless
mouth, although Mavras embroidery was
readily bought by the traders from the large
towns, who came 10 the village twice year.
In the beginning of September, Serge said
to his young wife, who was about to make
| him father
"If you follow my advice, you will your
| self nurse our child"
81 should like to do so, but then must
| have trained, devoted servant, one endowed
with all the virtues" answered the young
wife, land mamma says this is more difficult
| to find than q suitable nurse"
at is quite true" said the Countess. pres
ent at this family council which had taken
| place on the average thrice a week for the
| last four or five months; 'but, Serge, now
that think of it, we have Marva, the sweet
est, quietest most devoted of nurse-tendersi'
"Marva! the very thing How is it we
never thought of her before? Not trained,
seeing she is unmarried, but SO active and in
| telligentw
The manager was written to, ordering him
| to send on Mavra by the convoy which every
| year about this period brought to St Peters
burg fruits, preserves, salt provisions, linen,
and in short all the products of the earth.
| The young girl once more packed her clothes
up in her little basket, and took her seat on
one of the long file of heavy wagons that
slowly rolled along the roads for eight or
nine days, she sleeping at night under the
linen awning drawn over the chests of pre-
serves while the horses were in the stables
and the wagoners by their sides. Sometimes
on awaking she saw the stars, but they no
| longer brought tears to her ewes
| When the convoy of provisions arrived
and Mavra still dizzy. had made the neces-
sary change in her dress, she was led into the
room of the young Countess, where the
whole family was assembled augmented
within the last two days by a superb new
born baby. which none OF the servants knew
! how to manage.
Here you are, Mavra. Good morning."
said the triumphant father. taking up his
son in his awkward arms, at the risk of
making him roar still louder. You have a
light hand and gentle voice. l give you
my son to take care Of"
~ humblv thank YOU" said the young
girl pale with joy. II shall do my best"
She carried the infant into an adjoining
room, where she soon learned the special
care to be given to child OF noble race,
which was as different from its cradle from
that of little peasants, his brothers in Gods
sight, as he would be the rest of his life.
| Toward evening the young mother, sur
prised at no longer hearing the music her
lirst-born had already had time to accustom
her to- sent Serge to find out the reason
of this unusual silence. The young master
entered the large dark room where
Mavra was slowly pacing up and down,
the child's cheek pressed against hers, warm
ing it with her warm breath and the love OF
+ a heart henceforth happy. She was singing
a peasant lullaby in low voice, inventing
words to the tune "Dear child of my
master sleep on your servants heart, that
loves you, treasure more precious than all
things, my JOY, my share of happiness in
this world-my little star"
Serge turned on tiptoe to his wife.
~ think our minds may be quite at ease, y
said he.