Now the pastor was just going home. He came to the thorn-bush and saw two little boys sitting beneath it in the snow. They were shivering, and hiding their little red hands in their rags.
"Take them with thee," said the thorn-bush to the pastor. "They are Wild Stephen's children; they dare not [{498}] go in-doors for fear their father may beat them because they have come home empty-handed. Take them with thee. I cannot warm them; I am so poor and naked."
We know not whether it was the pastor's heart or the thorn-bush that spoke; but he took the children home with him.
"So, now have I one care the less!" said the thorn-bush to itself. "Now they are beginning to light up the Christmas tree there—and there—and again over yonder. What a pity that I'm not stationed under the windows, for here in this dreary stable there will be nothing to see."
But the thorn-bush was wrong, for just then the interior of the stable grew bright with a piercing light. Still knelt the poor woman with closed eyes, but the sick child waked up and stretched out its little arms laughing; for the roof opened, and down fluttered, surrounded by a light cloud, two lovely angels, one of them bearing a little Christmas tree gleaming with countless lights, the other bringing costly gifts. And it grew warm in the stable, and the light threw such a gleam into the street that the thorn-bush wondered within itself.
"There is no hut so poor but Christ is there to-night," it said.
The angels fluttered down, and while one offered the Christmas tree, the other went to the sick child and laid his hand healingly upon its breast. Then they flew upward again and vanished; but the light remained in the stable. In the mean time Wild Stephen lay upon the cold altar-steps. At last his consciousness returned, and he raised his head from the stone. A wonderful vision had appeared to him in a dream, for he had seen two beautiful spirits who, blessing him, walked by his side: and now, on awaking, he saw them standing by him, and felt each angel lay a little warm hand in his and lead him from the church.
It seemed to Stephen as if he still dreamed; as if it were in sleep that the two little angels led him from the church to the stable where he knew his poor wife and sorrowing children were. Willingly he let himself be guided; but when they reached the wretched dwelling, and everything within looked so warm and bright and pleasant; when he saw the Christmas presents, he rubbed his eyes, and look down at the angels who had brought him there and were still standing by his side. Then Stephen recognized his two other boys, grandly and beautifully dressed as he had never seen them before.
Still it seemed like a vision. He raised both children in his arms; he held them close and kissed them—no, it could not be a dream.
"Christ is born," cried the watchmen from the tower. "Ay, born is he, and within my own soul too!" exclaimed Stephen, and, still holding the two children, sprang to his wife. He drew her toward him and held her to his breast. "Jenny," he said, "wake up, Christ is indeed born!"