ght. What else could they do in
the solitude and darkness of the night, surrounded by evil spirits that
crept out of every corner, even out of the human breast? Prayer alone
saved. And they prayed and prayed.

Big drops of perspiration and tears rolled down Roeschen's delicate
little face and her limbs trembled.

Oh, if only the Holy Virgin would come and take her under her blue
mantle. She was so terrified and in such pain. Her head ached; her back
and her chest as well; her throat was so swollen that she could hardly
swallow; her eyes burned as if with fever.

"Holy Mother!" The child could hardly look over the feather-bed, as she
tried to pierce the darkness with her terrified eyes, so high had it
been drawn up. "All good spirits praise God! Dear Holy Mother, hail,
Mary!" Oh, there she was, there she stood in the darkness and nodded to
her.

The darkness was no longer dark, the tapping of the fingers against the
window-panes and the soughing of the wind round the house had all at
once lost their terror. Oh, how sweet the Holy Mother looked, how mild,
and so beautiful. She took the terrified child under her protection and
smiled at her, until her burning [Pg 43] eyes dosed, until a glorious
dream came to her in her slumbers and filled her soul with a sweet
terror.

Was it any wonder, then, that Rosa Tiralla should cease petting her
father when he suddenly began to moan and cry out, "Oh, what have I
done? Oh, how terrified I am! I shall never have a quiet hour again.
The devil has a hand in such a game!" and should say to him in a very
earnest voice, "Why are you so terrified? Call on the Holy Mother; she
wears a blue mantle, and she will wrap you in it. I'm often terrified,
but then my fear disappears. Shall I call on her?"

"Yes, oh, yes." At any other time Mr. Tiralla would have burst out
laughing, but to-day he nodded eagerly. And then he whispered in the
child's ear, but so softly that his Sophia, who stood listening near
the table as if ready to pounce on them, could not hear a single word.
"I'm so terrified, I don't know why. Pray, pray."

Rosa slid down from the bed, and, kneeling on the skin rug, pressed her
folded hands against her pale lips. She prayed fervently. They were the
same old prayers which had been repeated mechanically so many times
before; but they gained solemnity in the child's mouth. Her thin voice
sounded deeper and more sonorous; the lamp-light shone on her reddish
hair, that curled