"She may bustle about in there for a few minutes if she likes," he thought; and turned to look for a temporary shelter among the ruins.
Warm air ascended from the cellars. He struck a light, and went down the slippery steps. He felt curiously light-hearted almost, as if Christmas had brought him joy.
The rows of wine-bottles with their red and green labels peeped at him festively from their places.
"She shall not forget it's Christmas," he said, smiling; and drew from the farthest niche where the treasure of treasures was stored, two or three bottles covered with dust and cobwebs. In these reposed a nectar which had not seen the light since an eighteenth-century sun had shone on it.
His latest resolution occurred to him. Of course, he had not meant to put it into force till to-morrow--not on Christmas evening, when people consort together, who at other times are not congenial to each other. On Christmas evening no one ought to be lonely and sorrowful.
Obedient to Regina's wishes, he patrolled the ruins for half-an-hour beneath a roof of sparkling icicles. Then he put the bottles under his arm, and staggered out into the stormy night.
As he approached his dwelling, he saw with amazement that the shutters were closed, a thing that had never happened before. His first thought was that the storm had penetrated the chinks, but on nearer view be learnt they were still weatherproof. Not till he stood in the vestibule did he find a happy solution to the problem. Regina met him beaming, and half-ashamed, and threw the parlour door wide open. Astounded at what he saw, he remained rooted to the spot. He was greeted by a festive shimmer of candles and a fragrant odour of firs. In the centre of the dining-table, covered with its pure white cloth, stood a Christmas tree, adorned with wax tapers and gilded apples. The whole apartment was brilliantly illuminated.
Never in his life before had a Christmas tree been lit for him. Only from the thresholds of strangers had he sometimes looked on with dim eyes at strangers' happiness. And where was Regina? She had retreated behind him, and stood in the remotest corner of the vestibule, watching him with shy yet proud delight.
He took hold of her hand and led her into the room.
"Who put it into your head, child?" he asked.