no sound in the room. The last candle
before the ikon at length followed the others, wavered high for an
instant, and then went out. Yet, strangely, the room was not left in
darkness. On the contrary, in the corner by the door had appeared a
soft, misty radiance which, second by second, grew visibly more
luminous. Far over the snow-fields came the clear chime of bells,
ringing the midnight hour. As their echoes died, the Princess, without
moving her body, opened her eyes again upon the form of a woman who had
emerged from the mist and now stood near at hand, looking down at her.

Tall she was, and classically robed, this visitor. Her face, shaded by
a drapery of dove blue, was as fair as sculptured marble. But there was
a fire of deep compassion in her dark eyes, and her mouth was curved
into the gentlest smile. The great pity in that wonderful face stirred
Sophia with a sudden pang of joy; and it was long before her gaze moved
from those features. But when they did, her lips parted in a faint cry;
for she saw that the Mary-Mother was not alone. Her left hand was
clasped by that of a child: a tiny, shadowy shape, sweet-faced and
slender-limbed. Looking, Sophia's breath came fast; and leaning forward
instinctively, she held out her arms. At that gesture, the stranger and
her charge came forward a little more, and the holy woman spoke:

"Sophia, I come to answer your prayer, bringing with me the soul of your
child."

The Princess bowed to the floor.

"Your eyes behold a little, lonely spirit, that is to be given into your
care. Guard it and guide it; for the way of its life stretches far, and
is difficult and long. Your paths meet for but a few years: for you are
yourself nearing the end of your unhappy journey; and during these last
years, comfort shall be given you. Look, then, upon the face of your
son."

Swiftly the little spirit left the protecting shadow of its holy guide,
and paused beside Sophia. She would have clasped the shadowy body in her
eager arms, but a sense outside herself forbade this, and she could only
gaze searchingly into the gentle, childish face.

"Thou art mine?--my son?" she whispered, softly.

The little creature looked up at Mary-Mother and then, at once, returned
to the sad mortal at its side. The little face brightened with a smile,
and the lips formed the dear word, "Mother!"

Then, immediately, darkness had fallen. The visitors from afar were
gone. Sophia lay upon the bare floor be