The child himself asked to be put in his little bed, the physician was
summoned, and the next morning the scarlet fever broke out.

When the father returned, the youngest chill had also been attacked by
the same fell disease, and now a time came when Barbara, during many an
anxious hour of the night, forgot that in distant Spain she possessed
another child for whose sake she had been ready to rob these two dear
little creatures, who so greatly needed her, of their mother. This
purpose weighed upon her conscience like the heaviest of sins while she
was fighting against Death, which seemed to be already stretching his
hand toward the oldest boy.

When one evening the physician expressed the fear that the child would
not survive the approaching night, she prayed with passionate fervour for
his preservation, and meanwhile it seemed as though a secret voice cried:
"Vow to the gracious Virgin not to give the Emperor's son a higher place
in your heart than the children of the man to whom a holy sacrament
unites you! Then you will first make yourself worthy of the dear
imperilled life in yonder little bed."

Thrice, four times, and oftener still, Barbara raised her hands to utter
this vow, but ere she did so she said to herself that never, never could
she wholly fulfil it, and, to save herself from a fresh sin, she did not
make it.

But with what anxiety she now gazed at the glowing face of the fevered
boy whenever the warning voice again rose!

At midnight the little sufferer's eyes seemed to her to shine with a