"You brought us all these troubles, you wretched boy!" he would say. "Don't talk to _me_ of patience. Why don't you pray to your angel for curses, and then we may have some good luck again? As it is, you might as well pray to the Devil himself." But the child only drew Christina's head closer to his poor little misshapen breast, and whispered to her, "It is not so, is it, little mother?" And she always answered: "No, dear heart. They are indeed blessings if we will only recognize them. It we prayed only for happiness, we might think the white angel heard us not; but we pray for blessings, and so he sends us what we pray for, and what he sends is best." Then again the boy's eyes shone with a great light, and there seemed a radiance about his head; but Christina was kissing his shapeless little hands and did not see. One day Christina was returning with a fresh bundle of work in her arms, when, just as she came in sight of the hut, she saw a pillar of smoke rise black and awful to the sky from the rude roof of the place. In a moment she felt a horrible fear for Hans and the child. Neither of them could move; and must they lie helpless and forsaken in the face of such a fearful death? She ran as though her feet were winged. Nearer and nearer she came, and now she saw the flames rise and lick the smoky column with great lapping tongues of fire. Nearer and nearer she came, and the crowd of men about the hut stood stricken and dared not venture in. "It is of no use," they screamed. "We did not know soon enough, and now it is too late; we should smother if we tried to save them." But she tore her way through the crowd and flung herself into the burning place. Hans, writhing and screaming, had managed to drag himself near the door; and thinking, "The child is more fit for heaven, I will save Hans first," she lifted him in her arms and carried him outside. It was as though some great strength had been given her, for she carried him as if he had been a little child. Then into the hut she went once more, and to the bed of the child. But now the flames were licking her feet, and the smoke blinded her. She groped her way to the bed and felt for the boy, but he was not in his accustomed place; and she was about to fling herself upon the little couch in despair, when a great light filled the place,--not the red light of the flames, but a clear white flood such as she had only seen once before. There stood the white angel, radiant, glorious; and looking up she saw him smiling down at her with the eyes of the boy.