A STUNTED, emaciated, broken-spirited child, dumb, and not opening her mouth, was Velia when the spring came. Yarina's heart ached for her, but she could show the girl so little kindness! Her house was quite a mile away, on the farther side of Knishi; and the old Matoushka did not welcome visitors, unless they brought in their hands gifts worth having. Yarina was rich, and the old Matoushka was obsequious to her, but she gave her no chance of seeing Velia alone; and the warm clothes she brought for the girl lay in a chest till there was a chance of selling them. The summer brought out-of-door work for Velia. It was better for her than the dark, cold days of winter, when she was always under the lash of her mistress's tongue. But in every other way her lot was unchanged, and the toil was even harder. She had never been at school since Father Cyril left. The priest who had succeeded him was one of the old sort—a man after Okhrim's own heart, except that he was very eager after dues, and extorted a great deal more money from his parishioners than Father Cyril received. The new Batoushka could drink like a man, said Okhrim; and was a sharp hand at making bargains. The drinking shops prospered, and the congregation in church dwindled. But there were little secret meetings in the village for reading the Bible, where the seed sown by Father Cyril, as well as by the Stundists, was springing up. Many of the people in Knishi knew now the difference between true religion and the imitation of it. But the chance of a real revival of religion in the Orthodox Church was gone from Knishi. Yarina felt it more deeply than anyone else, and her heart yearned after her old friends the Stundists. She felt speechless indignation at the thought of their sufferings. She longed to hear them sing praises as if God was really listening to them, and praying as to a real Father ready to give good gifts to His children. There were many besides herself who remembered them with affection, and almost with remorse. There was no man now like Alexis, to whom they could go for intelligent counsel, or the friendly settlement of disputes. There was no woman like Matrona, or Tatiania, to watch beside the dying, and pray for them with simple, heartfelt prayers, which the passing soul could join in. The last days of harvest were come, and every man and woman, except Yarina, were busy in the golden harvest-field, when one evening, as the air grew cooler, she strolled down her garden to the margin of the river, which formed one of the boundaries of it. She was quite alone, for the children were gone with the servants to the harvest-field. A tall, thin, overgrown lad was hiding among the thick forest of reeds, but crept away as she came into sight. "Come out! I see you!" she called, in spite of the fact that she saw nobody. "I see and hear you. Come out, or I'll send for the Starosta."