Christmas-day broke clear, bright, and beautiful.
Lyon Berners arose early in the morning, to be ready to greet his two friends upon their entrance into the drawing-room.
Although his heart was aching with grief for Sybil, he was resolved to wear a cheerful countenance for the sake of those two loyal souls who had been so devoted to her, and were now so constant to him. He little dreamed how great would be his reward before the day should be over.
Clement and Beatrix Pendleton did not keep him waiting long. They soon came down from their chambers, and greeted him affectionately.
"This cannot be a 'merry' Christmas to you, dear Lyon, but it may be a good one. Will you accept this from me? See! with the faith or the superstition of the old Christians, I opened it at random to-day, to find your fate in some text. And this is really what my eyes first lighted on," said Beatrix Pendleton, as she placed an elegantly bound pocket Bible in the hands of Lyon Berners, and pointed to this passage:
"There shall be light at the evening tide."
"Thanks, dear Beatrix! thanks for the sacred gift and happy augury!" said Mr. Berners, as he took the book and read the lines. "'Light at the evening tide,' That, I fancy, means the evening of life. A weary time to wait, Beatrix. Ah! Clement, good-morning. I may wish you a merry Christmas, at least," he added, suddenly turning to Captain Pendleton, who had followed his sister into the room.
And they shook hands and went in to breakfast.
There were no more Christmas presents exchanged. No one there, except Beatrix, had thought of giving one; though hers had been graceful and appropriate.
After breakfast they went to church at Blackville. They were drawn thither in the roomiest carriage, by a pair of the strongest horses, with Joe on the box; for they expected to pick up the Sheridans after the morning service, and to bring them to Black Hall to dinner.