atherwise farmer prognosticates
from its appearances. The old watch it dwindle from sight at evening
with long thoughts of the well-beloved vanished, who sighed to its
vanishing through vanished years; the dying turn to its beckoning
radiance; happy is the maiden for whose bridal it wears brightness;
blessed is the child thought to be that holds out tiny hands for the
glittering cross as for a star. Even to the most worldly it often
seems flinging beams of heaven, and to all who love its shining that
is a dark day when it yields no reflection of immortal meaning.

To Mini the Cross of Rigaud had as yet been no more than an indistinct
glimmering, so far from it did he live and so dulled was he by his
sufferings. It promised him no immortal joys, for how was he to
conceive of heaven except as a cessation of weariness, starvation, and
pain? Not till Angelique had come, in the vision did he gain certainty
that in heaven she would smile on him always from the mild Mother's
arms. As days and weeks passed without that dream's return, his
imagination was ever the more possessed by it. Though the boy looked
frailer than ever, people often remarked with amazement how his eyes
wore some unspeakable happiness.

Now it happened that one sunny day after rain Mini became aware that
his eyes were fixed on the Cross of Rigaud. He could not make out its
form distinctly, but it appeared to thrill toward him. Under his
intent watching the misty cross seemed gradually to become the centre
of such a light as had enwrapped the figures of his dream. While he
gazed, expecting his vision of the night to appear in broad day on the
far summit, the light extended, changed, rose aloft, assumed clear
tints, and shifted quickly to a great rainbow encircling the hill.

Mini believed it a token to him. That Angelique had been there by the
cross the little dreamer doubted not, and the transfiguration to that
arch of glory had some meaning that his soul yearned to apprehend. The
cross drew his thoughts miraculously; for days thereafter he dwelt
with its shining; more and more it was borne in on him that he could
always see dimly the outline of little Angelique's face there;
sometimes, staring very steadily for minutes together, he could even
believe that she beckoned and smiled.

"Is Angelique really there, father?" he asked one day, looking toward
the hill-top.

"Yes, there," answered his father, thinking the boy meant heaven.

"I will go to her,