* * * * *
The light of day came streaming through the tower window--the child
awoke. It was cold. A chill ran through his frame. He had been in the
cathedral all night, and his parents--what anguish they must have
endured. Hastily as his numbed limbs would allow, he went down the
stairs. A few worshippers were bowing before the altar; Franz dropped
on his knees a moment, and then ran with all his speed out of the door
and down the street.
Very glad were Franz's parents when he returned, and Nanette wept for
joy; but when at breakfast he related his dream, the face of the old
organist lit up with a great hope.
"I know, my boy, it will all come true. So long as we love and trust
Him, the good Christ will not leave us to suffer."
Christmas had come. There were no presents for Franz and Nanette. Only
one could they make, and this was a nice, warm dressing-gown for their
blind father.
One day a beautiful lady took refuge in the cottage; her carriage had
broken down, and she must stop till the postilion could return to the
castle. At the cottage she heard Franz play and Nanette sing, and
listened to the blind organist, as the cathedral bells broke on the
evening air.
"You must come with me," said the lady. "We have been planning
concerts at the castle, and you shall give them."
"My children are not old enough to go by themselves, and I am blind,"
replied the father.
"I will not deprive you of your children," said the lady; "my father
has influence.
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