He watched whilst the vessel steamed slowly away amid the crowded shipping, and then turned back into Odessa, sad at heart. These young heretics were very dear to him. CHAPTER XXXII A LETTER FROM SIBERIA WHEN the old Matoushka saw her little victim carried swiftly away by the current, she stood paralysed, watching till Velia was out of her sight. Had she thrust the child in? She could not answer the question to herself. What could she do now? There was not a creature in sight. The nearest house was Yarina's, but it was on the other side of the river, and the bridge across was nearly half a mile off. The body would have sunk, or drifted far away, before she could get any help. How she reached her hut, trembling and tottering under her load of wet clothing, she hardly knew. She sat down and did nothing. It crossed her mind that she would have to account for Velia's disappearance, but she had not strength sufficient to drag herself into the village. She swallowed a small glass of vodka, yet that did not give her courage enough to face the inquiries and remarks of her neighbours. Well, it would be of no use now. The girl was drowned. What will be, will be! Doggedly she set about getting her supper, but she could not rid her mind of the vision of the girl drowning. She lit one wick of her lamp, but the corners of the hut were very dark, and she soon lighted all three. The silence was alarming; there was no frightened footfall or pitiful sigh in the hut. The old Matoushka tried to laugh away her own fancies, but in the stillness she could hear the terrified scream uttered by Velia when she fell into the river. It was a great relief when she heard the familiar footstep of her friend Okhrim. He entered the illuminated hut, blinking as he came in from the darkness. "Ah!" he said. "Why, Matoushka, are you having a feast?" "No, no," she answered; "I'm in great trouble. I've something serious to tell you." "Velia drowned!" he exclaimed, when she had finished her account. "Do you know what folks are sure to say?" She could guess very well what would be said. Okhrim chuckled inwardly, and said to himself, "Now I have her between my finger and thumb." "You're sure you didn't push her in?" he asked. "Yes," she replied in a tremulous voice. "Do you think they'll believe that?" he asked again. She did not answer. Okhrim sat silent for some time, lost in thought. Then he looked at her with triumphant cunning. "I advise you to let her disappear," he said. "Clava disappeared from the church-house in Father Cyril's time, and why shouldn't Velia? Wake up to-morrow and find her gone. Go at once and tell the Batoushka; and come to me as Starosta. If the body is found, it will account for the disappearance. I'll report it to the authorities at Kovylsk." "Oh, you're a true friend," she said, sobbing.