JUST then Kostia came into the cabin.
"Vassia," said he, "go and help Sasha. I would speak with our passenger," and he smiled pleasantly. "I came," he added, as his young brother left the cabin, "to ask what we are to do with you, good Matushka. We are all men here, and have no place for a woman, so that we cannot offer to carry you far. Would you like us to stop now, and put you on shore?"
"I was just telling this boy and the young man you call Vassia," replied the woman, "that I had been pushed into deep water by my drunken father-in-law, for whom I had kept house and worked hard ever since my husband deserted me. And this lad tells me," she continued, with a little friendly nod at Sergey, "that my husband, Abram Kapoostin, is his uncle on the mother's side."
"So he is; I know that well!" replied Kostia. "Strange that you should turn out to be his wife! We have all believed him to be a single man. But now, Matushka, tell me what we shall do for you. For every moment we are getting farther away from your home. Do you wish to return to your father-in-law?"
"No! A thousand times no!" answered the woman.
"Then have you no friends anywhere near, to whom you could go?"
"There are some people I know in the next town you come to. I dare say I could get work there."
Kostia, thought a moment, then he said—
"The next town is Krasnoi-Puil; we get there about nine o'clock to-night. And as the weather is changing and storm threatens, we shall probably lie up in shelter of the quay all night."
"I have never had a Tiotia (aunt) before," said Sergey, "and I do wish, Kostia, that I could have kept her a little longer."
"Thou canst see her again, Sergey, on thy return journey," said Kostia. "Those cargo boats stop at all the towns on the river, and we will find out thy Tiotia if she will give us the name and address of her friends."
"And your name, what is it, my aunt?" asked the boy.
"I am Olga—Olga Kapoostin, and my friends are the Kierayoffs, at number 10 Black Street." And Kostia, wrote down names and address on a small slate hung against the cabin wall.
"So," said he, "we shall find you when we return this way in autumn, before the hard frosts begin. And now, good Matushka Olga, Sergey and I will leave thee to dry thy clothes at the stove, for it is ill work sitting in wet things. Come, child, I would give thee a lesson in steering the 'Swan.' For who knows how soon thou mayest be called to act as skipper!" And he laughed genially at his little joke.
That evening, after supper which Olga prepared—much to Sergey's satisfaction—aunt and nephew had the chance of a little quiet talk. He told her, in answer to questions—all about his uncle, her husband—and how, by the advice of the foreman, Matvey Philipitch, he had started on the raft to get right away from the wretched life he was leading, and the danger in which at last he had found himself. And Olga, in her turn, told him how Abram had left her years ago, taking with him their only child, a little girl called Dunia.
"He had no child at Glynoi-Liess; of that I am sure," said Sergey. "He gave us all to understand that he was a single man."
Down Olga's sad, worn face great tears ran.
"I never want to see him again," she said. "But oh, what would I not give to know what he has done with my dear little girl! Life is very hard, Sergey, for us poor folk. Living or dying, there is no help and no comfort."
"Ah, say not so, Tiotia mine!" cried the boy earnestly. "My parents taught me, and so also Matvey Philipitch, our foreman, that even when we feel ourselves most alone, most desolate, our Heavenly Father is watching over us, pitying us, loving us all the time. And, indeed, Tiotia dear, of late I have come to know what a very real thing is the Presence of God, and His great love shown in our Saviour Jesus Christ. And I love to read in the Gospels the wonderful things written there, and I, too, want to be the Lord's disciple, and to follow Him in all things. Have you a New Testament, Tiotia Olga?"
"No, I have never had one. I can read quite well, and write too, but have never had a belonging to me."
"Well, look here," said the lad, drawing a little volume from his pocket. "Here is the Gospel of St. John, which I will give you for your own. You need not mind taking it, for I know it almost all by heart. And when you read therein of God's great love in sending His Son, and of the good deeds and sweet words of that Son, you will be helped and comforted as I have been."
"I promise thee, child, that I will diligently study this "
"And you will pray for light and guidance to understand it, Tiotia?"
"I will indeed."
"And I will pray for you," said the boy.
"Do so, dear child! We ought to feel for each other, Sergey, for we have some experiences alike. I am fleeing from one Kapoostin—thou from another. My life has been in danger from my father-in-law, thine from his son."
"But now, thank God," said Sergey, "we have both given our enemies the slip. Your Kapoostin will think you drowned, and mine knows now that I am well beyond his reach. So, Tiotia dear, we will not despair any longer, but thank God and take courage."
That night the "Swan" reached Krasnoi-Puil and was moored to a ring in the stone quay.
And Olga parted from the three brothers and from Sergey with grateful acknowledgments, and betook herself to her friends in the town. While the raftsmen and their cook-boy, tired with the day's work, lay down early to sleep, so as to gain strength for the duties of the coming day.
This book comes from：m.funovel.com。