At length, the longed-for hour arrived; the school-children had had their prizes and buns, the servants’ friends had had tea and plum-cake, the Christmas-tree had displayed its glories, when, at the eventful hour of eight, the public were admitted, and Mrs. Pevensey was carried into the drawing-room. All were surprised, and rather disappointed, to find it so dark; and when Arbell had marshalled every one to their places, it became darkness itself, for every light was extinguished. A laugh, a whispered remark, alone broke the silence, though all the household were present, and the general feeling was of awe.
At length, on the ringing of a small bell, the solemn, distant sounds of an organ were heard (a very good barrel-organ in the nursery, that played hymn-tunes), and a curtain, slowly rising, revealed the hospice of St. Bernard!—or, at any rate, so good a transparency of it as to give a very vivid impression of the place itself. There was the old monastic pile, shut in among craggy, snow-clad rocks—the adjacent church, the morgue—the gloomy little lake—the tiny patches of garden, in which the monks grow a few cabbages and lettuces. To add to the illusion, a twinkling light was seen in one of the distant windows; a dog’s short, sharp bark was heard afar off, and the tones of the organ conveyed the impression of a midnight mass.
It was very impressively, capitally got up; and at small amount, as we afterwards learnt, of trouble and cost. Ingenuity had been the prime artificer; and Mr. Pevensey was much pleased at the cleverness with which Arbell had seconded him. Altogether, the entertainment was well thought of, and gave unmingled satisfaction.
——I have come to the last page of my little note-book. Oh that the last page of my life’s story may end as happily!
THE END.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Ecclesiasticus xix. 1.
[2] These hymns have been inserted by the kind permission of the publisher of “The Invalid’s Hymn-book.”