"But how do you make it shine through the walls?" "Ah! that you would not understand if I were to try ever so much to make you--not yet--not yet. But," added the lady rising, "you must sit in my chair while I get you the present I have been preparing for you. I told you my spinning was for you. It is finished now, and I am going to fetch it. I have been keeping it warm under one of my brooding pigeons." Irene sat down in the low chair, and her grandmother left her, shutting the door behind her. The child sat gazing, now at the rose-fire, now at the starry walls, now at the silvery light; and a great quietness came over her heart. If all the long-legged cats in the world had come rushing helter-skelter at her then, she would not have been afraid of them for a single moment. How this was, however, she could not tell;--she only knew there was no fear in her, and everything was so right and safe that it could not get in. She had been gazing at the lovely lamp for some minutes fixedly: turning her eyes, she found the wall had vanished, for she was looking out on the dark cloudy night. But though she heard the wind blowing, none of it blew upon her. In a moment more, the clouds themselves parted, or rather vanished like the wall, and she looked straight into the starry herds, flashing gloriously in the dark blue. It was but for a moment. The clouds gathered again and shut out the stars; the wall gathered again and shut out the clouds; and there stood the lady beside her with the loveliest smile on her face, and a shimmering ball in her hand, about the size of a pigeon's egg. "There, Irene; there is my work for you!" she said, holding out the ball to the princess. She took it in her hand, and looked at it all over. It sparkled a little, and shone here and shone there, but not much. It was of a sort of gray whiteness, something like spun glass. "Is this _all_ your spinning, grandmother?" she asked. "All since you came to the house. There is more there than you think." "How pretty it is! What am I to do with it?" "That I will now explain to you," answered the lady, turning from her, and going to her cabinet. She came back with a small ring in her hand. Then she took the ball from Irene's, and did something with the two--Irene could not tell what. "Give me your hand," she said. Irene held up her right hand. "Yes, that is the hand I want," said the lady, and put the ring on the forefinger of it. "What a beautiful ring!" said Irene. "What is the stone called?" "It is a fire-opal." "Please, am I to keep it?" "Always." "Oh, thank you, grandmother! It's prettier than anything I ever saw, except those--of all colors--in your--Please, is that your crown?" "Yes, it is my crown. The stone in your ring is of the same sort--only not so good. It has only red, but mine have all colors, you see." "Yes, grandmother. I will take such care of it!--But--" she added, hesitating. "But what?" asked her grandmother.