“As you will. Your will is like God’s forgiveness to me, and I am grateful to you for sparing my grey hairs.”
“Now,” said Vera, “let us go across to your house, where we can both rest.”
Tatiana Markovna almost carried her across to the new house, laid her on her own bed, and lay down beside her.
When Vera had fallen peacefully asleep, her aunt rose cautiously, and, in the light of the lamp, watched the marble beauty of her forehead, her closed eyes, all sculptured pure and delicate as if by a master hand, and at the expression of deep peace that lay on her face. She made the sign of the cross over Vera as she slept, touched her forehead with her lips, and sank on her knees in prayer.
“Have mercy on her!” she breathed. “If Thy anger is not yet appeased, turn it from her and strike my grey head.”
Presently she lay down beside Vera, with her arm around her neck. Vera woke occasionally, opened her eyes, and closed them again. She pressed closer and closer to Tatiana Markovna as if no harm could befall her within the circle of those faithful arms.
CHAPTER XXXI
As the days went by Malinovka assumed its wonted calm. The quiet life which had been brought to a pause by the catastrophe, flowed evenly on. The peaceful atmosphere was not undisturbed by anxiety. Autumn had laid her hand on men as well as on nature. The household was thoughtful, silent, and cold; smiles, laughter, and joy had vanished like the falling leaves, and even though the worst crisis was passed, it had left behind it an atmosphere of gloom.