eir beads and murmuring prayers, while they pushed and jostled
each other madly for a glimpse of the holy infant.

One of the acolytes reached his arms forth to take it from Donna
Isabella and bring it to the chancel rail for the crowd to see, but she
held it more closely to her bosom, and refused to let it go from her. As
she stood there, a tall and stately figure, folded in the white gown of
the Virgin and wearing the close head-dress which concealed all save her
splendid face, she seemed the creation of some old painter, and the
curious crowd of peasants was hushed into admiration by her beauty and
her tenderness for the child. She, too, became a part of the strange
miracle. The infant Christ had been born anew among them, and lay there
in his very mother's arms, an object of mystery and worship. As the
silence of wonder ensued, Donna Isabella seemed to collect her startled
senses, and looked around her as if expecting the mother of the child to
come and claim it. A woman of her resolution was not to be hurried into
superstitious follies by some pretty trick or accident. But the little
one lay so softly in her arms and reached with such tiny, appealing
fingers at her throat, that she began to feel a motherly fondness for
it. And, moreover, had it not been sent her, who was alone now in the
great castle on the hill, as a mysterious gift of Providence? Ought she
not to feel it a sacred charge, coming as it did, from the very manger,
to her arms?

Thus thinking, the Donna Isabella came slowly to the chancel rail, and,
holding forth the infant at arms' length, she said:

"Good people of Alcala, my part in the Christmas play is done. The good
Lord has sent me this little one to take care of; and here, before you
all, I accept the charge and promise to cherish and love it. If any of
you know its mother, say that the Donna Isabella has carried it to the
castle of Aranjuez, and tell her to follow it there, for where her child
is, there the mother should be also." This broke the spell. The silent
crowd fell into murmurs and gestures, and each one asked his neighbor
where the child belonged. There was no longer any doubt. It was merely a
human child; but the mystery of the manger surrounded it with a hallowed
interest, and everybody was eager to discover its parents and bear them
the good news of its adoption by the great lady.

Now, Jose Rosado was too old a hand, too jolly a host, to be long
deceived. He whispered me his