cast confusing shadows. By and by the old woman began to moan that she
was cold, that she felt herself dying of the cold. "O would that we could
reach the Tree which sheds warmth and bears fruit even in this bitter
weather," she cried. "O Knight, hasten forward to the Tree."

But Sir Godfrey made no answer, for he was now sure that he should never
be holy enough to behold the Tree; and he, too, felt the sorrow and cold
of death creep upon him, and a dreadful fear that never again should he
leave the Dark Wood alive, but would perish there miserably. He could no
longer see the path, and the arms of the old woman clinging to him were
like the touch of ice. "O Mother!" he cried, "Pray for our deliverance,
for I have lost the road."

At that moment his lantern went out, and he gave a cry of despair, for he
had nothing wherewith to relight it.

"Fear not," cried the old woman, "but press on."

So through the dark he urged his horse, seeing nothing and feeling more
dead than alive; for he now knew that both he and his passenger must
perish of the cold.

But even as he was resigning his heart to the will of heaven, he saw afar
off a beautiful, clear, rosy light shedding long rays over the snow, and
where the light lay the snowflakes fell no more, but a delicate breeze,
soft and caressing, issued like a breath of spring from that circle. The
old woman cried, "The Tree! the Tree!"

Sir Godfrey's heart leaped with joy. He could not believe that he was
at last worthy to behold the Tree, yet there it rose, oh, so glorious!