_you_ this time, and you
have fallen into it!" And straightway he began to pray, saying whatever
came to his mind. And as he prayed, Michael decreased more and more in
size, falling to the ground, where he lay writhing to and fro like a
worm, groaning and moaning; and all the hearts on the surrounding
shelves began to beat and throb until the place sounded as it might
have been a clockmaker's workshop. Then Peter's courage left him; he
rushed from the room and out of the house, and, goaded on by terror,
began to clamber up the rocky precipice; and as he climbed he heard
Michael stamping and clattering and roaring out the most terrible
curses, as he rose from the ground to follow him. Having succeeded in
surmounting the cliff, Peter set out to run to the Pine-grove; and at
the same time a most frightful storm broke out; lightning flashes fell
to right and left of him, creating havoc among the trees. But Peter
reached the Glassmanikin's domain in safety.

His heart beat joyfully in his breast; but only because it _did_ beat.
Then all his past life flashed before him, as horrible as the storm
which was laying waste the forest on all sides behind him. He thought
of Elspeth, his lovely, gentle wife, whom in his avaricious rage he had
murdered; he saw himself as an outcast from society, and he burst into
tears as he stood before the mount on which the Glassmanikin had sat.

And there was the Guardian of the Pine-forest, sitting under a pine and
smoking a little pipe; but he looked more cheerful now. "Why are you
weeping, Charcoal-Peter?" he asked. "Have you your own heart again, or
is the cold stone still in your breast?"

"Ah, Master Guardian!" sobbed Peter; "when I had that cold stone heart
I could not weep, my eyes were as dry as the country in July; and now
this real heart of mine is like to break with grief at my misdeeds! I
drove my debtors to ruin; I set my dogs at the poor and sick, and, you
yourself saw how with my whip I struck the fair forehead of Elspeth!"

"Peter! you were a great sinner!" said the manikin. "Money and idleness
were your undoing, until your heart was turned to stone, knowing
neither joy, nor sorrow, nor remorse, nor compassion. But repentance
atones for much; and if I were only sure that you truly repent for your
past life, I could do something for you even now."

"I want nothing now," answered Peter, sadly, while his head drooped on
his bosom. "I have nothing left to live for; I could never