Page:Poet Lore, volume 4, 1892.djvu/344

 “Oh, my God!” she laments in a trembling voice. “Marushka, my dear Marushka, where have you been? Why, why did I leave you alone a moment unwatched?”

But the child smiles playfully. She does not understand her mother’s words or their dark meaning.

As quickly as she has come, the mother hastens with her little one to the cabin. Her face is purple, her eyes glittering, and her heart throbbing.

“Oh, God, my God!” she wails. “I would not have thought that the parson’s prophecy would be fulfilled this very day,—the anniversary day. Oh, why did I not watch you as I had done before,—my dear, my only Marushka?”

The playful child only smiles. At times she tries to say something; but even the mother fails to understand what she prattles.

The frightened mother has reached the hut; she rushes in, slams the door, and puts the child into the cradle.

She reaches out her hands to her mother, and smiles fixedly. The mother soothes her.

“Sleep, sleep, my darling!” she mutters, rocking her.

She rocks her long; the child cannot fall asleep, but is lulled at last.

The mother’s eyes are suffused with tears. Every now and then she bends over the child, listening to its breath or feeling if its brow be not hot. Still the child smiles even in its sleep.

The sun has set, and the shadows of evening have spread over the graveyard. The mother is still sitting by the cradle watching her only child. Now and then she utters disconnected words disclosing her fear and anxiety. At last peace returns to her soul. The child is breathing quietly; there is nothing to justify the mother’s fears. And finally the mother lies down on her simple bed and falls asleep.

Midnight has come.

The yellowish moonbeams, penetrating through the dense foliage of the shady ash-trees that stand before the window, picture