For the first time in her life, Anna felt the sense of her own personhood as distinct from her parents. She was no longer their snow child, but was now their snow princess. No doubt she recognized the change more than old Yevno and Sophia. The coming of womanhood was readily apparent on her face, in her bright but peaceful smile, and in the depth of gaze which shone out through her eyes, but the greatest changes were deep within.
She was eighteen now, a young woman. Never again would she be only Anna the peasant girl from Katyk. Although she would never forget her past, henceforth she was Anna, mistress and friend to nobility.
Katrina, now seventeen, had also changed—perhaps more than Anna. Beautiful as ever, a subdued calm now rested upon her face. Maturity would be slower to infuse her character, but its coming could be seen. The death of the soldier Serge Ivanovich scarred her deeply; seldom in the young princess’s life had she cared about someone else more than herself. To feel that deep compassion, only to have death snatch it away, resulted in a grief she had never known before. In time pain and heartache subsided, but they had etched out within her heart a reservoir of sympathy and love. After Serge’s death Katrina would never again look upon the world so innocently. He had opened her eyes, not only to pain, but also to the world’s gentle influences. She began to feel the wind upon her face and wonder where it came from and what it might be trying to say. When the rain poured down upon the earth, she thought of tears and wondered if the tiny drops were God’s way to wash out His own sorrow. When the sun came back out and warmed her cheeks, she turned her face up toward it with eyes closed, and could not help but think that life was good. The flowers in this very garden looked up to her, and her heart smiled back to them. When Katrina thought of Serge, a sad melancholy smile crossed her lips. But it was a smile, nonetheless, and she always remembered to utter a brief prayer for him. His life had crossed hers only for a moment, but when he was gone, the memory of his pain and courage left compassion in Katrina’s soul.
Springtime had come to Russia. And a springtime in the seasons of life was dawning in the hearts of the two maidens whose fortunes, whose futures, and whose loves had become so intertwined. As the buds on the cheremukha branches had opened to the warming influences of the sun, so too were the souls of Anna Yevnovna and Katrina Viktornovna opening to the rays of the spirit. And in the sparkles of their eyes, in the warm smiles upon their lips, and in the thoughts which they kept only to themselves, could be seen the blossoming of their youthfulness, which was at once passing from them even as it gave way to the full flower of their shared womanhood.
No longer would the lives of these two flowers grow and blossom separately. However divergent their backgrounds, the circumstances of fate had brought them together, henceforth to share life entirely. Their roots had in a short time become so intertwined that never more could they be pulled apart. If, therefore, Anna, peasant daughter from Katyk, and Katrina, princess of St. Petersburg—seeming opposites such a short time earlier—were gradually coming each to resemble the other, it is hardly to be wondered at. The strengths of both their individualities were exerting wholesome and broadening influences on the other. By sharing life in this way, both were growing in directions they never would have alone.
“Do you remember that first day here in the garden, Anna?” Katrina asked as they walked along.
“I’ll never forget,” laughed Anna.
“That silly little Chinese dog of my mother’s!”
“I was so afraid I’d be sent away after you found me here. It really was an accident, you know.”
Now Katrina laughed. “You’re not still worried?” she asked good-naturedly.
“No,” Anna smiled.
They were silent for a few steps. “It seems like years and years ago, doesn’t it?” said Anna after a moment.
“I suppose it does,” sighed Katrina. “But it’s only been, what . . . a year and a half?”
“And only a year since . . . since they went away.”
“It seems forever, though Fingal would no doubt say it was nothing as wars go.”
“It won’t be much longer now, Princess. Didn’t you say they were due to arrive in Moscow two days ago?”
“That’s what the telegram from Father said.”
Anna said nothing. They walked along in silence now. Although their hearts fluttered with excitement, both harbored fears as well.
“Are you nervous, Princess?”
“Does it show terribly?”
“No. I only wondered.”
“I suppose I am, Anna,” admitted Katrina.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I’m just so afraid Dmitri will ignore me!”
“He could never do that, Princess.”
“He treated me like such a child before they went away.”
“He will notice how you’ve grown.”
“Perhaps, Anna. But it may be you who receives the most attention. You’re the one who’s changed.”
“I’m just a maid,” said Anna. “Count Remizov would never notice someone like me.”
“I was not talking about Dmitri.”
Anna blushed and smiled, but did not respond. She had never openly confided with her mistress what Sergei had said, but perhaps Katrina guessed the truth. She was experienced at reading the subtle signs of love and Anna was unable to hide them. Katrina knew her brother well enough to know that Anna was exactly the sort of girl with whom he would be smitten. For one like Sergei, the fact that she was not of aristocratic blood only made the attraction stronger.
“And speaking of Fingal,” said Anna, relieved at the diversion, “here he comes now.”
They glanced up to see the wiry Scotsman approaching, a book under his arm.
“Splendid day for a garden lecture!” he exclaimed. “With every year that passes I enjoy the coming of spring more. I am getting much too old for these severe winters! I’m going to have to begin leaving to spend the snowy months in the south before long.”
Both girls laughed. “Is it really so bad, Fingal?” asked Katrina.
“Perhaps not if you are a fat Russian,” he replied with humor in his tone. “But look at me! I am a thin Scot. The cold goes right into my bones and freezes everything!”
“Well, you must eat more!” said Anna.
“It’s no use, my dear. I’m a scrawny chicken! But now we must be on with our lessons!”
“Oh, Fingal!” moaned Katrina.
“You know well enough what would happen to me if your father returns and finds that I have been neglecting my duty, Princess. And you want to be knowledgeable in these matters when your father and brother return.”
Katrina and Anna took seats on two of the nearby garden benches, while Fingal opened the book he was carrying.
“Now, with the war over, the powers will be meeting in Berlin in a couple of months. The details won’t be known for some time, but the armistice our tsar has already signed with the Sultan of Turkey will provide the framework for it. We went over some of those points yesterday—and many right here in our own city are upset at Tsar Alexander for his withdrawal.”
He paused for a moment, then went on. “Today I want to compare for you the Treaty of Paris, which followed the French Revolutionary Wars in 1815, to what I think is likely to happen this summer in Berlin. All the unrest and revolution, and all the disputes over land and boundaries that have embroiled the nations of Europe in such controversy during this century, can be traced back to those years after Napoleon’s fall. Our own tsars have been in the thick of the disputes since the present tsar’s uncle Alexander I rode triumphantly into Paris after defeating Napoleon. The Crimean War and the just-completed Turkish War both have their beginnings back then, as well as the complexities of our relations with Austria, Germany, and my own homeland of Great Britain. I would like to read for you something written by Alexander I when he was returning . . .”
Katrina stifled a yawn. As Fingal continued on, she couldn’t keep her attention focused on his
words. Anna did her best to concentrate; she likewise was preoccupied.
But the lecture did not last long.
The sound of someone approaching caused both girls to glance up. Princess Natalia walked toward them, a wide smile across her face.
“They are here!” she exclaimed. “They are home at last!”
“Father and Sergei?” Katrina cried, clasping her hands together. “Are they here . . . now, Mother?”
“Leo has been sent to the station. They should return any moment—certainly within the hour!” Natalia turned toward the tutor. “I’m sorry to interrupt so rudely, Fingal.”
“No apologies necessary, Princess. This is a happy day, and in my judgment further lessons ought to be suspended!”
“Mother,” asked Katrina hesitantly, “are only Father and Sergei coming?”
“What do you mean, dear?”
“I mean, is Dmitri with them?”
“I don’t know, dear. I suppose he could be. The message did tell Leo to bring the large carriage.”
Fingal closed his book, then accompanied Princess Natalia back the way she had come. For another moment Anna remained sitting and Katrina stood still where she was.
Katrina glanced at Anna, her eyes alive with joy. Whatever fear remained was suddenly banished by the anticipation in her heart. She was far too preoccupied to notice a similar glow on Anna’s countenance. Had she heard the thudding of Anna’s heart, or felt the anxious churning in her maid’s stomach, she might have grabbed her hand and dragged her along.
But all Katrina could think of for the moment was seeing her father and brother. And Dmitri! She fairly sprinted from the garden toward the house, all her gains toward maturity momentarily lost in unabandoned excitement.
Anna followed slowly, from a distance, afraid to presume and get too close, yet unable to prevent her eyes from seeking a glimpse of her returning masters. She paused in the garden at the side of the house, reticent, afraid that if she was seen, one glance at her face would reveal her inner feelings.
On the other side of the thick shrubbery, she could hear snatches of the joyous reunion.
“You’ve lost weight.”
“ . . . a long story.”
“ . . . but your leg.”
The words were interrupted by Princess Natalia. “Come, children. Continue this in the house. We have tea and cakes.”
Then again came the voice Anna had dreamed so long of hearing.
“I will join you in a moment, Mother. May I just walk about the grounds a bit? I want to be sure I’m really here, and not still dreaming on the battlefield.”
“Don’t be long, Sergei, dear.”
Anna’s heart quickened. For a moment she thought of turning away. Yet the clear tatoo of footsteps coming toward her was enough to plant her feet in the garden path like one of the lilies nearby. She could not move, nor did she want to.
The moment he came into view, even Sergei’s striking uniform could not keep Anna’s gaze from going straight to his eyes. What would he say . . . did he still feel the same?
He looked so altered, so thin. But nothing could hide the light in his dancing eyes.
“Anna!” His voice quivered with emotion.
“Prince Sergei . . .” She fumbled over the words, knowing them to be inadequate.
He smiled. It was a peculiarly sad, haunting smile, but one with life and hope in it nonetheless. “I have waited long to see you,” he said. “I don’t care what you call me, just so long as it is your dear voice.”
Anna glanced down at the path. Everything within her cried out to speak, but still no words would come.
“Come, Anna,” Sergei went on quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I believe we have a conversation to resume.”
All around them spring was in full bloom. But the beauty of new life in the Russian countryside could not begin to match the joy of resurrection in Anna Yevnovna’s joyous young heart.
About the Authors
Michael Phillips is a bestselling author with more than seventy of his own titles. In addition, he has served as editor/redactor of nearly thirty more books. He is known as the man responsible for the reawakened interest in George MacDonald of the last thirty years. In addition to the MacDonald titles adapted/edited for today’s reader, his publishing efforts in bringing back full-length quality facsimile editions also spawned renewed interest in MacDonald’s original work. Michael and his wife, Judy, spend time each year in Scotland, but make their home near Sacramento, California. Visit Michael’s website at www.macdonaldphillips.com.
Judith Pella is a bestselling, award-winning author whose writing career spans more than two decades. Her in-depth historical and geographical research combines with her skillful storytelling to provide readers with dramatic, thought-provoking novels. She and her husband make their home in Scapoose, Oregon.
Fiction by Michael Phillips
www.macdonaldphillips.com
THE RUSSIANS*
The Crown and the Crucible • A House Divided • Travail and Triumph
THE STONEWYCKE TRILOGY*
The Heather Hills of Stonewycke • Flight from Stonewycke • Lady of Stonewycke
THE STONEWYCKE LEGACY*
Stranger at Stonewycke • Shadows Over Stonewycke • Treasure of Stonewycke
THE SECRETS OF HEATHERSLEIGH HALL
Wild Grows the Heather in Devon • Wayward Winds
Heathersleigh Homecoming • A New Dawn Over Devon
SHENANDOAH SISTERS
Angels Watching Over Me • A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton
The Color of Your Skin Ain’t the Color of Your Heart • Together Is All We Need
CAROLINA COUSINS
A Perilous Proposal • The Soldier’s Lady
Never Too Late • Miss Katie’s Rosewood
CALEDONIA
Legend of the Celtic Stone • An Ancient Strife
THE HIGHLAND COLLECTION*
Jamie MacLeod: Highland Lass • Robbie Taggart: Highland Sailor
THE JOURNALS OF CORRIE BELLE HOLLISTER
My Father’s World* • Daughter of Grace* • On the Trail of the Truth*
A Place in the Sun* • Sea to Shining Sea • Into the Long Dark Night
Land of the Brave and the Free • A Home for the Heart
*with Judith Pella
Books by Judith Pella
Texas Angel
Heaven’s Road
Beloved Stranger
Mark of the Cross
THE RUSSIANS
The Crown and the Crucible*
A House Divided*
Travail and Triumph*
Heirs of the Motherland
Dawning of Deliverance
White Nights, Red Morning
Passage Into Light
THE STONEWYCKE TRILOGY*
The Heather Hills of Stonewycke
Flight from Stonewycke
Lady of Stonewycke
THE STONEWYCKE LEGACY*
Stranger at Stonewycke
Shadows Over Stonewycke
Treasure of Stonewycke
DAUGHTERS OF FORTUNE
Written on the Wind
Somewhere a Song
Toward the Sunrise
Homeward My Heart
LONE STAR LEGACY
Frontier Lady
Stoner’s Crossing
Warrior’s Song
PATCHWORK CIRCLE
Bachelor’s Puzzle
Sister’s Choice
RIBBONS OF STEEL**
Distant Dreams
A Hope Beyond
A Promise for Tomorrow
RIBBONS WEST**
Westward the Dream
Separate Roads
Ties That Bind
*with Michael Phillips **with Tracie Peterson
© 1992 by Michael Phillips and Judith Pella
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhous
e.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-2975-5
This book is a work of fiction. With the exception of historical personages, all characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to living persons, past or present, is coincidental.
Cover design by Melinda Schumacher
To
Catherine Jean Phillips
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
A Cast of Characters
Prologue: A Season of Partings
1
2
3
Part I: Seeds of Rebellion
1
2
3
4
5
6
Part II: Turning Points
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Part III: Our Rebel Brothers
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
Part IV: The Will of the People
26
27
28
29
30
The Russians Collection Page 44