They reached Kovylsk some hours before the arrival of the rough carts bringing the women and children. Michael drove to the house of a well-to-do tradesmen, Orthodox himself, but kindly disposed towards the Stundists, as his wife was secretly a member of the persecuted sect. He undertook to get Clava smuggled into the prison the next morning, in time to pass out with the other families. Khariton had given her name with those of Sergius and Marfa, and it was already entered on the convoy-list; so no question would be raised on that account. He promised also to look after Paraska, and get permission for her to join the next exile party; and f that could not be done, to find work for her. In Kovylsk it was much easier to escape the notice of the priests than in the villages; although the archbishop and the consistory were there. CHAPTER XVII FATHER CYRIL'S LETTER MICHAEL lingered about the prison behind whose walls his father was confined, until the carts came in carrying his neighbours and their scanty possessions; for the free exiles were limited in the quantity of baggage they might take. They were to be lodged for the night in the city hospital, as the prison was already overcrowded. This would make it quite easy to restore little Clava to her mother at once; and when Tatiania cast an anxious glance at him, he nodded back with a smile. The weary, worn-out women, exhausted with emotion, alighted from the springless carts, which had jolted heavily and slowly along the muddy, ill-made roads. Sergius came up to him, and clasped his hands warmly; and Michael felt a paper pressed into his own. As soon as the party had entered the hospital, he hurried back to Markovin's house, where he was to pass the night. He was too much afraid of spies to venture to open it before. It was a letter from Father Cyril. "MY SONS, MICHAEL AND SERGIUS,"—it ran—"I saw you last night taking away little Clava, but my heart forbade me to prevent it. I prayed to my God and your God, my Father and your Father, to bless you! For whosoever is to blame, it is not you. You put your parents before the priests; and this is the law both of nature and of God. Love your parents: honour, obey, and cherish them. God gave them to you, and you to them; and no man can break that bond. You are about to face an army of difficulties and sorrows, but remember! You can never go where God is not! I give you two verses to think of daily, 'If I go down into hell, Thou art there,' and, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me: Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.' Death and hell are filled with the presence of God. Tell your father again, Michael, that Velia shall be as my own daughter. Kiss little Clava for me—the dear child! "I feel myself, though you acknowledge it not, your father in Christ."