d she said,
"Dear Savior, Thou hast borne the most cruel pain with a heavenly
smile: dear Savior, give me Thy power, hold me when I would tremble;
and, when the sharp swords pierce my soul, I will think of thee, O
Mother of God, and suffer in silence. Pray with me, dear Ivo."

Without uttering another word, she suffered the operation to be
performed; and when the bone cracked under the terrible pressure, when
all around sobbed and wept, when Valentine was led half fainting into
the adjoining room, and his suppressed sobs became louder as the door
closed upon him, Christina was silent and motionless: only her lips
quivered, her eyes were directed steadfastly upon the cross, and a holy
brightness seemed to issue from them.

When all was over, and even the surgeon broke out into praise of the
patient's fortitude, she sank upon her pillow, and her eyes closed; but
a brilliant glory still rested upon her face. All the bystanders were
dumb with admiration. Valentine had returned. He bent over his wife
till he felt her breath, and then looked up with a heavy sigh and a cry
of "God be praised!" Ivo kneeled at the bedside, looked up to his
mother, and worshipped her. All folded their hands: not a breath was
heard, and it seemed as if the living Spirit of God were passing
through every heart.

When Christina awoke with the cry of "Valentine," the latter hastened
to her side, pressed her hand upon his heart, and wept. "You forgive
me, don't you, Christina?" he said, at length. "You shall never, never
hear an unkind word from me again. I am not worthy of you: I see that
now better than ever; and if the Lord had taken you away I should have
gone mad."

"Be calm, Valentine. I have nothing to forgive you: I know how good you
are, though you are not always yourself. Don't grieve now, Valentine:
it's all right again. Our Lord only wished to try us."

She recovered with wonderful rapidity. Valentine kept his word most
faithfully. He watched over his wife as over a higher being: the
slightest motion of her eye was his command. He could scarcely be
induced to allow himself the rest he needed.

Emmerence and Ivo took turns in sitting up with his mother; and she
once said, "You are dear, good children: the Lord will certainly make
you happy."

Often also, when his mother slept, and the one came to relieve the
other, they had long conversations. Ivo confessed to her the longing of
his mind for active employment; and she said, "Yes, I