"'I hope he will, my Heinrich,' said the sad mother, smiling faintly.
"'Ah, but mother, dost thou not know it?'
"The fire burned low, and the poor woman could no longer see. She put up the coarse sewing with a sigh, and resting her hand tenderly on her boy's head, sat quite still.
"Not a sound was heard. The light in the room was dim, and gloom had settled upon the hearts of both mother and child.
"A low tap sounded at the door, and then it slowly opened; and to the astonished gaze of the two sitting by the hearth, there appeared the figure of a little child. A snow-white robe draped his slender limbs. In one hand he bore a lighted taper, and in the other a most beautiful wreath of white roses. His dark blue eyes shone with an unearthly lustre, as it appeared to the amazed and bewildered Heinrich, and his golden curls floated upon his shoulders.
"'Oh! mother! mother!' whispered Heinrich, almost breathless, 'it is the Christ-child in very truth come to me at last. His face is like Gottfried's—only far more beautiful;' and mother and son sank on their knees.
"Slowly the little form advanced towards them, paused before Heinrich, lightly placed the rose crown upon his head, and then, the sweet lips parting in a faint, tender smile, it waved its little hand towards him, and disappeared from their sight.
"When they could speak, the mother and son bowed their heads in thankful prayer, then lifted their brimming eyes to each other.
"'Truly thou hast been wondrously rewarded, my Heinrich,' said the poor widow; 'give the beautiful crown to me, that I may see what the dear Christ-child has brought to thee.'