But what was this, lying in the corner, with her Bible and Prayer-book, this white leather case, with--ah! Hilda--with blue forget-me-nots delicately painted on it?
Hastily Hilda took it up and pressed the spring.

Her mother's face smiled on her! The clear, sweet eyes looked lovingly into hers; the tender mouth, which had never spoken a harsh or unkind word, seemed almost to quiver as if in life.

So kind, so loving, so faithful, so patient, always ready to sympathize, to help, to smile with one's joy or to comfort one's grief,--her own dear, dear mother! A mist came before the girl's eyes.

She gazed at the miniature till she could no longer see it; and then, flinging herself down on the pillow again, she burst into a passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would break.

No longer Queen Hildegardis, no longer the outraged and indignant "prisoner," only Hilda,--Hilda who wanted her mother! Finally she sobbed herself to sleep,--which was the very best thing she could have done.