But by and by she ceased to wonder at all, and just sat leaning against the door-frame, breathing softly, like a little child that is dreaming sweet dreams.

But presently the trees of the forest began to bow their heads, and the wind chanted low and sweet, as though in praise; the sun shot a golden beam along the foot-path, and made it glitter and shine, and then a wonderful silence seemed to fall on the place, and before her stood an angel, white-robed and beautiful.  He said no word, but stretched out his arms to her and would have taken her to his heart, but that she cried out with a great fear,—­

“Ah, no! not yet; I cannot go yet.  I am young, and life is sweet.  I cannot give it up.  Do not take me yet!” and she fell at his feet.

The angel smiled sadly and said:  “Be it so, then.  I will not take, I will give.  But bemoan thou not thy choice when the life thou deemest so sweet seems but bitter, and thy load more heavy than thou canst bear.  I will come once again;” and smiling down upon her, he was gone.

With a great cry she rose; for the light that shone all about the angel seemed to make many things clear to her, and she would have been glad to do his will, but it was now too late.

The tree-tops were motionless again, the wind had ceased its chanting, the sun had withdrawn its wondrous light, and along the worn little foot-path came Hans with his ax upon his shoulder.  She said nothing to him about her dream, for she was afraid; but she got his supper for him, and when the stars had slipped out from behind the spare clouds, he had dropped to sleep and left her to lie awake gazing at them silently until each one seemed to smile at her with the smile of an angel, and then it was morning, and she had slept, after all, and the sun was shining.

After that Christina was always busy preparing for the gift the angel had promised her, and she sang gayly from morning till night, and was very glad.

So the months rolled along, and the memory of her dream had almost faded from Christina’s mind.  Then one day a strange sound was heard in the little hut,—­the sound of a baby’s crying.  Hans heard it as he came along, and it made his eyes shine with gladness.  He hastened his steps, and smiled to himself as he thought of his joy in having a little child to fondle and caress.

But at the door he paused, for he heard another sound besides that of the baby’s voice.  It was Christina’s, and she was weeping bitterly.

In a moment he was beside her, and then he knew.  There he lay,—­their little son.  The angel’s gift,—­a wee cripple.  Not a bone in all his little body was straight and firm.  Only his eyes were strangely beautiful, and now they were filled with tears.

“It were better he had died, and thou, also, Christina,” sobbed Hans.  “It were better we had all three died before this sorrow was brought upon us.”  But Christina only wept.