Then Hal looked at the fires, and hurried them up a trifle. How lovely it was without! Over the whole earth lay a mantle of whitest ermine. Tree and shrub were robed in fleecy garments,—arrayed for this Christmas morning. As the sun began to quiver in the east they sparkled with a thousand gems.
It seemed like the beginning of a new life. Why, he could not tell, but he never forgot the feeling of solemn sweetness that stole over him as he stood by the window in the flower-room, looking over to the infinite, fancying that earth and heaven met this morning; the fine gold of the one blending with the snowy whiteness of the other. So pure was the soul of the little child born eighteen hundred years ago.
Within, it was all fragrance and beauty. The plains of the Orient could not have been more odorous in that early dawn. Unconsciously he hummed over two or three lines,—
"Midnight scarcely passed and over,
Drawing to this holy morn;
Very early, very early—
Christ was born."
They went about their simple homely duties, as if some unbidden guest had entered, whose presence filled the space out of which a dear face had vanished.
"Granny is better, I am sure," Dot said, preparing some breakfast for her.