“Oh, then I shall never find it, Marthie!” cried Thorwald, in great suspense. “For I have often been very naughty.”
“I am very sorry to hear that,” said Marthie, and shook her head.
“And do you think it is of any use for me, then, to try to find the flower?” exclaimed the boy, wildly. “O Marthie, help me! Help me!”
“Well, I think I should try,” said Marthie, calmly. “I don’t believe you can have been such a dreadfully naughty boy; and you probably were very sorry whenever you happened to do something wrong.”
“Yes, yes, always, and I always begged papa’s and mamma’s pardon.”
“Then, listen to me! I will show you the Star of Bethlehem in the sky—the same one that led the shepherds and the kings of the East to the manger where Christ lay. Follow that straight on, through the forest, across the frozen river, wherever it may lead you, until you find the heavenly flower. And when you have found it, hasten home to your mother, and put it up to her lips so that she may inhale its breath; then she will be healed, and will bless her little boy, who shunned no sacrifice for her sake.”
“But I didn’t tell you, Marthie, that I made Grim Hering-Luck tattoo a ship on my right arm, although papa had told me that I mustn’t do it. Do you still think I shall find the heavenly flower?”
“I shouldn’t wonder if you did, child,” responded Marthie, with a reassuring nod of her head. “It is high time for you to start, now, and you mustn’t loiter by the way.”
“No, no; you need not tell me that!” cried the boy, seizing his cap eagerly, and slipping out through the lower panel of the door. He jumped into the bands of his skees, and cast his glance up to the vast nocturnal sky, which glittered with myriads of twinkling stars. Which of all these was the Star of Bethlehem? He was just about to rush back into the cottage, when he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and saw Wise Marthie’s kindly but withered face close to his.
“Look toward the east, child,” she said, almost solemnly.