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Page 10
And there she was in the soft grass-heap, sobbing with fright and
clutching tightly in her hand a fistful of straw; while yonder in the
wistaria-vine a humble-bee was settling, and a voice from the house was
heard calling her name:
"Betty! BET-TY!"
THE WHITE ANGEL
Once upon a time there lived in a far country a man and his wife, and
they were very poor. Every morning the man went his way into the
forest, and there he chopped wood until the sky in the west flushed
crimson because of the joy it felt at having the great sun pass that
way; and when the last rim of the red ball disappeared behind the line
of the hills, the man would shoulder his ax and trudge wearily home.
In the mean time the wife went about in the little hut, making it clean
and neat, and perhaps singing as she worked,--for she was a cheery soul.
Well, one day--perhaps it was because she was very tired and worn; I do
not know--but one day she sat down by the door of her hut, and was just
about to begin sewing on some rough piece of hempen cloth she had in
her lap, when, lo! she fell asleep.
Now, this was very strange indeed, and even in her dream she seemed to
wonder at herself and say: "I have never slept in the daytime before.
What can it mean? What will Hans think of me if he should come home
and find me napping in the doorway and his supper not ready for him,
nor the table spread?"
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.
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