Once more "the old house stood silent and dark in the pallid landscape." The winds were hushed, as if the peace within had been breathed into the very heart of Nature, and she, too, could rest in her wintry sleep. The moon was obscured by a veil of clouds, and the outlines of the trees were faint upon the snow. A shadowy form drew near; a man paused, and looked upon the dwelling. "If the angels' song could be heard anywhere to-night, it should be over that home," Mr. Alvord murmured; but, even to his morbid fancy, the deep silence of the night remained unbroken. He returned to his home, and sat down in the firelight. A golden-haired child again leaned upon his shoulder, and asked, "What else did He come for but to help people who are in trouble, and who have done wrong?" He started up. Was it a voice deep in his own soul that was longing to escape from evil? or was it a harmony far away in the sky, that whispered of peace at last? That message from heaven is clearest where the need is greatest.
Mr. Hargrove's home was almost a palace, but its stately rooms were desolate on Christmas-eve. He wandered restlessly through their magnificence. He paid no heed to the costly furniture and costlier works of art. "Trurie was right," he muttered. "What power have these things to satisfy when the supreme need of the heart is unsatisfied? It seems as if I could not sleep to-night without seeing her. There is no use in disguising the truth that I'm losing her. Even on Christmas-eve she is absent. It's late, and since I cannot see her, I'll see her gift;" and he went to her room, where she had told him to look for her remembrance.
To his surprise, he found that, according to her secret instructions, it was lighted. He entered the dainty apartment, and saw the glow of autumn leaves and the airy grace of ferns around the pictures and windows. He started, for he almost saw herself, so true was the life-size and lifelike portrait that smiled upon him. Beneath it were the words, "Merry Christmas, papa! You have not lost me; you have only made me happy."
The moon is again rising over old Storm King; the crystals that cover the white fields and meadows are beginning to flash in its rays; the great pine by the Clifford home is sighing and moaning. What heavy secret has the old tree that it can sigh with such a group near as is now gathered beneath it? Burt's black horse rears high as he reins him in, that Gertrude may spring into the cutter, then speeds away like a shadow through the moonlight Webb's steed is strong and quiet, like himself, and as tireless. Amy steps to Webb's side, feeling it to be her place in very truth. Sable Abram draws up next, with the great family sleigh, and in a moment Alf is perched beside him. Then Leonard half smothers Johnnie and Ned under the robes, and Maggie, about to pick her way through the snow, finds herself taken up in strong arms, like one of the children, and is with them. The chime of bells dies away in the distance. Wedding-bells will be their echo.
* * * * *
The merry Christmas-day has passed. Dr. and Mrs. Marvin, the Kev. Mr. and Mrs. Barkdale, and other friends have come and gone with their greetings; the old people are left alone beside their cheery fire.
"Here we are, mother, all by ourselves, just as we were once before on
Christmas night, when you were as fair and blooming as Amy or Gertrude.
Well, my dear, the long journey seems short to-night. I suppose the
reason is that you have been such good company."
"Dear old father, the journey would have been long and weary indeed, had I not had your strong arm to lean upon, and a love that didn't fade with my roses. There is only one short journey before us now, father, and then we shall know fully the meaning of the 'good tidings of great joy' forever."