d more still under its pale covering,
the wife had gathered her last resolution together, and dared a demand
of those High Immortals whose contact with humanity had ended so long
ago. They had hitherto been pitiless enough with her; though this she
would scarcely acknowledge even in her feeble rebellion. But she should
ask them, at last, to make her a tardy restitution.

Sophia was unaware that her wish was a selfish one. It seemed so natural
a thing she asked; and her mind, poor lady, was all upon herself, there
being no other soul to think for her. That the helpless life she longed
for would be ushered into a dreary world, too dark for bright innocence
to face, never occurred to her. Her outlook had grown strangely
one-sided during the past long years of constantly weakening defence.

"Mary-Mother--protect me! I have waited very long. I have done all Thy
will. I have kept the fasts: have made my confessions and been absolved.
I have striven so long for strength to endure--all that has been given
me to endure! I have not avoided any pain, or abuse, or disgrace. I have
borne without complaint all the isolation of _his_ life, till my very
family shuns me. Oh, Thy hand has lain heavy upon me, but I have not
complained! Therefore, in this New Year, I come to Thee, Holy Mother,
with my wish. Grant me, I beseech, that which has been given so many
times to others! Give me at last a companion in my life: one that cannot
leave me. Thou, holiest of women, intercede for me! Make me one with
Thee! Give me, too, a child!"

Once more, and over and over again, did the frail woman make her
request: so many times, indeed, and at last so fervidly, that her
excitement grew, and tears came. Little by little she drooped towards
the floor. Her face shone wet in the candle-light; and she clutched at
the little shelf below the ikon, where a handful of flowers stood in a
silver vase between the candles.

The minutes crept by. The few other lights in the big room burned low,
flared, flickered, and went out. There was a vast, muffled stillness in
the snow-filled air. The first night of the New Year was nearly dead. As
the light in her room grew ghostlier, Princess Sophia's voice became
gradually incoherent, dropped to a vague whisper, and finally ceased.
She slid gently from her knees to a sitting posture, her head resting
against the wall, under the little shrine. And then her eyes fell shut.
She slept.

For a quarter of an hour there was