Page:Elizabeth, or, The exiles of Siberia (1).pdf/21

                                   21 from the deserts of Ischim, where her parents have languished in exile for twelve years. Alone, she has performed the journey on foot, braving every misery to come here, and implore at your feet her father's pardon !” Elizabeth raised her supplicating hands, repeating, “ My father’s pardon!” There was a unanimous cry of admiration among the crowd. Alexander was himself struck, and though he had strong prejudices against Stanislaus Potowsky, they now vanished. “ Your father is free,” said he; “ I grant you his pardon.” Elizabeth could hear no more—at the very sound of pardon, a sense of joy overpowered her, and she fell senseless into the arms of Smoloff. She was borne away through the crowd of people, who applauded the virtue of the heroine, and the clemency of the monarch, to the house of the good James Rossi, where she recovered her senses, and where the first object she recognized was Smoloff, kneeling at her side. In a little time she uttered the names of her father and mother—‘‘We shall behold them again,” said she, “we shall enjoy their happiness.” These words penetrated to the young man’s soul. Several days passed before the -pardon could be authenticated. One morning Smoloff visited Elizabeth earlier than usual, when he presented a parchment to her, sealed with the imperial seal. “ Here,” said he, “ is the Emperor’s order to my father to restore your’s to liberty.” Elizabeth seized the parchment, pressed it to her lips, and covered it with tears. “But this is not all,” added Smoloff, “he also restores him to his rank and wealth; the courier who carries this order sets off to-morrow, and I have to accompany him.” “And shall not I accompany him too?” “ Doubtless,” replied Smoloff, “ what other mouth than thine has the right of telling your father that he is free ? Certain of your intention, I mentioned it to the Emperor, and he said, to-morrow you might set off.” She looked at Smoloff, saying, “ Ever since I first saw you, you have been the author of all my benefits.” Before she left Moscow, our heroine recompensed the hospitality of Rossi; nor did she, in passing the Volga, forget the benevolent boatman, whom she rewarded with an hundred rubles. When she arrived at Sarapoul, she visited the grave of the venerable missionary; she now felt as if the poor monk, from the height of heaven, rejoiced to see her happy. Tobolsk being the next stage, Smoloff conducted her to his father, from whom she received a most kind reception, and high commendation for her magnanimity. She next went with Smoloff to visit her parents. O, how her heart throbbed as she crossed the forest; seeing her paternal cabin, she springs forward—she hears the voices which she knew—her heart beats —her head swims—she called her parents—the door opened,