THE STORY OF A MOTHER. 77

melted down into a lump; and when the servant-maid took the -

ashes out next day, she found him in the shape of a little tin
heart. But of the dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose
and that was burned as black as a coal.

THE STORY OF A MOTHER.

bay,\6l) MOTHER sat by her little child: she was very sorrov-
ful, and feared that it would die. Its little face was pale,
and its eyes were closed. The child drew its breath with
difficulty, and sometimes so deeply as if it were sighing ; and
then the mother looked more sorrowfully than before on the little
creature.

Then there was a knock at the door, and a poor old man came
in wrapped up in something that looked like a great horse-cloth,
for that keeps warm; and he required it, for it was cold winter.
Without, everything was covered with ice and snow, and the
wind blew so sharply that it cut one’s face.

And as the old man trembled with cold, and the child was quiet
for a moment, the mother went and put some beer on the stove
in a little pot, to warm it for him. The old man sat down and
rocked the cradle, and the mother seated herself on an old chair
by him, looked at her sick child that drew its breath so painfully,
and seized the little hand.

“You think I shall keep it, do you not?” she asked. “The
good God will not take it from me!”

And the old man—he was Death—nodded in such a strange
way, that it might just as well mean yes as zo. And the mother
cast down her eyes, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Her head
became heavy : for three days and three nights she had not closed
her eyes; and now she slept, but only for a minute ; then she
started up and shivered with cold. ;

“What is that?” she asked, and looked round on all sides;
but the old man was gone, and her little child was gone ; he had
taken it with him. And there in the corner the o'd clock was
humming and whirring; the heavy leaden weight ran down to
the floor— plump !—and the clock stopped. :

ath the poor mother rushed out of the house crying for her
child.

Out in the snow sat a woman in long black garments, and she
said, “ Death has been with you in your room; I saw him hasten