and relief will come.

Marie listened like an obedient little brook as she was, and was just
going to float another merry little bubble to the little reeds below
when she heard a voice say, "Give me my bed; I want it," and lo! there
was the real brook come back. She pushed Marie aside and hurt her,
though she seemed so gentle.

Marie tried to rise, but it was difficult; her limbs were stiff lying
all this time in the meadow, her eyes were weary gazing at the sky, and
her voice hoarse with the song she had been forced to sing.

She tried again, and this time she succeeded; and behold! there she was
on the door-step, and the sun was going down.

NINA'S CHRISTMAS GIFTS.

Hark! What was that?

Nina stood still in the wintry blast and listened. The wind rushed
upon her wildly, and dragged her tattered skirt this way and that, and
fleered at her, and whistled at her; and when she paid not the
slightest attention to his cruel treatment of her, fled tumultuously
down the street.

It was a wretched, shivering little figure that he left behind him,--a
small girl, with coal-black hair escaping from the folds of a bright
kerchief that was tied about it; with immense dark eyes, that seemed to
light up her poor, pinched face and make it beautiful; with tattered
dress and torn shoes, and with something clutched tightly beneath her
arm,--something that she tried unsuccessfully to shield from the
weather beneath her wretched rag of a shawl, that was so insufficient
to shield even her. She was listening intently to the sounds of an
organ that came pealing forth into the dusk from within the enormous
church before whose doors she was standing.

Louder, fuller swelled the majestic cords, and then--Nina strained her
ears to listen--and then the sweetest, tenderest voice imaginable
seemed to be singing to her of all the most beautiful things of which
she had ever dreamed. It drew her toward it by the influence of its
plaintiveness; and first one step and then another she took in its
direction until she was within the huge doors, and found herself
standing upon a white marble floor, with wonderful paintings on the
lofty ceiling above her head, and a sense of delicious warmth all about
her. But, alas! where was the singer? The thrilling notes were still
falling upon her ear with caressing sweetness; but they seemed to come
from beyond,--from far beyond.

Before her she saw more doors. Perhaps if she slipped through th