rt
within might have sunk and died, but for the ever-abiding warmth of
maternal love.

_That_ told her how in one other mother's heart there must be warmth
still.

"I will go home," she murmured, "I will say, 'Mother, take me in and
save me, or else I die!'" And so, when the night closed, and all the
villagers were safe at home, and none could mock at her and her misery,
the poor desolate one crept to her mother's door.

It had been open to her even when she came in her pride; how would it be
closed against her sorrow and humility? And was there ever a true
mother's breast, that while life yet throbbed there, was not a refuge
for a repentant child?

Hyldreda found shelter and rest. But the little elfin babe, unused to
the air of earth, uttered continual moanings. At night, the strange eyes
never closed, but looked at her with a dumb entreaty. And tenfold
returned the mother's first desire, that her darling should become a
"christened child."

Much the old grandame gloried in this, looking with distrust on the
pining, withered babe. But keenly upon Hyldreda's memory came back the
saying of Kong Tolv, that for a soul would be exchanged a life. It must
be _hers_. That, doubtless, was the purchase; and thus had Heaven
ordained the expiation of her sin. If so, meekly she would offer it, so
that Heaven would admit into its mercy her beloved child. It was in the
night--in the cold white night, that the widow Kalm, with her daughter
and the mysterious babe, came to the chapel of Skjelskoer. All the way
thither they had been followed by strange, unearthly noises; and as they
passed beneath the oak-wood, it seemed as if the overhanging branches
were transformed into giant hands, that evermore snatched at the child.
But in vain; for the mother held it fast, and on its little breast she
had laid the wooden cross which she herself used to wear when a girl.
Bitterly the infant had wailed, but when they crossed the threshold of
the chapel, it ceased, and a smile broke over its face--a smile pure and
saintly, such as little children wear, lying in a sleep so beautiful
that the bier seems like the cradle.

The mother beheld it, and thought, What if her foreboding should be
true; that the moment which opened the gate of Heaven's mercy unto her
babe, should close upon herself life and life's sweetnesses? But she
felt no fear.

"Let me kiss thee once again, my babe, my darling!" she murmured;
"perhaps I may never kiss thee more.