ess. The horn and the goblin were
silent. They had the power to break the spell of the music.

Suddenly the music ceased. Hunch caught the violin, and Lizzi seized in
her strong arms the falling player, who otherwise would have struck his
head on the bare floor as he sank into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER VIII.

FIRE.

The snow was deep in the forest. It upholstered the gaunt branches of
the giant trees; it clung tenaciously to the leafless twigs; it
encrusted the millions of pine needles; it covered the rough
mountain-sides: it piled up its crystals in the deep ravines, where the
deer hid; it lay like a warm blanket over the wheat; it spread all over
the land, a great white silence, through which the river and creek,
spellbound, flowed without a murmur.

Thus it had lain for three months--December, January, February. The
clouds, jealous of the sun and proud of their artistic skill in
softening the face of Nature, grim and gaunt in her winter's sleep, came
almost daily and sifted fresh snow upon that already fallen, which the
winds and sun were in alliance to disfigure and soil.

March had just come. Each day the sun rose more confident of victory.
Ere long he would succeed in making Nature look like an old wanton, her
powdered face tear-streaked and unsightly.

On the last night of February the clock in Lizzi's room made one quick
guess at the time, and brought her back from a flight of fancy. She was
startled to see that it was one o'clock, and resumed the sewing that had
lain neglected in her lap, while her thoughts roved.

She was sewing in secret, with the blind of the window down and her
candle shaded. The garment she was fashioning was one of those almost
shapeless infant robes that the inventive skill of dawning motherhood
makes so diversely pretty and daintily ungraceful. She had begun to fold
a plait in it, and paused to debate with herself on the size of the
fold.

"If I was sure it would be a boy I'd make these pleats wider," she
murmured.

From that her thoughts had wandered until she was recalled to her work
by the striking of the clock. For another hour she worked diligently,
then arose and put the sewing away where her mother would not be likely
to find it. After that she blew out the candle and raised the blind for
a last look that night at the store. The moonlight streamed into the
window, dazzling her eyes accustomed to the candle-light. She shut them
quickly in pain, and when she opened t