"How lucky that stupid burgomaster is, not to see the risks we are all
running! He is just like a dog, he will die without a struggle," said
the doctor.

He had scarcely pronounced this highly judicious dictum when the storm
unloosed all its legions. The wind blew from every quarter of the
heavens, the boat span round like a top, and the sea broke in.

"Oh! my poor child! my poor child! . . . Who will save my baby?" the
mother cried in a heart-rending voice.

"You yourself will save it," the stranger said.

The thrilling tones of that voice went to the young mother's heart and
brought hope with them; she heard the gracious words through all the
whistling of the wind and the shrieks of the passengers.

"Holy Virgin of Good Help, who art at Antwerp, I promise thee a
thousand pounds of wax and a statue, if thou wilt rescue me from
this!" cried the burgher, kneeling upon his bags of gold.

"The Virgin is no more at Antwerp than she is here," was the doctor's
comment on this appeal.

"She is in heaven," said a voice that seemed to come from the sea.

"Who said that?"

"'Tis the devil!" exclaimed the servant. "He is scoffing at the Virgin