There was a slight hesitation in her manner. And yet, when she had entered the studio only two hours ago, she had resolved to ask Edward Thornhill to lend her enough money to pay her fare back to the convent, so that she could begin her novitiate at once. "Your mind is quite made up, nothing could change it?" "I think not." How quickly her listener detected the little tremor in her voice, which told him much more than the uncertainty implied in her words. "And yet I believe you might be happy here. I can help you both; you shall not want for work. Your brother tells me that you have never been a model, but perhaps you would be kind enough to favour me by sitting for my Academy picture. The subject is to be the Annunciation." She did not answer, and he continued talking,-- "You must remember that the city is not always as gloomy as it looks to-night. We have picture galleries, parks and squares, and the country is beautiful at all seasons. Do you not think you could be content to stay a little?" "Perhaps a little." "I will get you some needlework to do, and Rica shall find in me as good a master as the one he has just lost. "You are very kind," she said, looking up at him with tearful eyes. "The nuns won't be angry with you for staying a little while with your brother; they will consent to receive you later, will they not?" "Yes, sir." "And will you sit for my picture?" "Yes, as soon as you wish." Before Marietta left she kissed the Christmas Rose, and whispered, "Dear Infant Jesus, guard the flower which has saved us." And it murmured:-- "I am happy. My Master is pleased that I have followed in His footsteps, and His reward is beyond all price." But Marietta did not hear. Before Angel went to rest he placed the Christmas Rose in a goblet of water, and it lifted up its innocent face and breathed a sweet, faint perfume. The hours flew by, and towards midnight a curious pink hue stole over its white petals, the fragrance died away, the luxuriant stem withered up, and it breathed its last as Christ's birthday passed away. The star of Bethlehem was alone in the heavens when Night visited the garden to greet the beauteous flower of the morning, but it had vanished. In its place was a tear which sparkled like a diamond, the tear it had shed when yearning to help suffering humanity. III. Four months afterwards Marietta received a letter from the superior of her convent. She sat reading it in a clean and comfortably furnished room. Though to all appearances perfectly happy, her face wore an expression of sadness, and tears fell on the missive in her hand. At length she rose, placed the letter in the pocket of her gown, and after packing up a costume she had just finished making for Edward Thornhill, made her way to his studio.