Seven o'clock came at last. The large school-room, which had been locked all day was now brilliantly lighted, and the girls all in their best, began to gather in the parlors. When all were assembled, the day scholars and boarders together amounting to nearly a hundred, Mrs. Pomeroy herself appeared, splendid in black satin and diamonds, and a new lace cap, and led the way to the school-room.
A universal exclamation of delight was heard as they entered. There stood the tall green tree, bright with a hundred tapers, and glittering with spangles, glass balls, and sugar ornaments. Vain would be the attempt to enumerate the gifts which adorned its fruitful branches. There were dolls and picture books—hoods and scarfs, mittens and slippers, bags, baskets and boxes knitted, netted and crocheted, and manufactured in all other imaginable ways—pen knives, fruit knives, drinking cups and inkstands—every thing pretty, useful and convenient, which could be devised by the imagination, wrought with the fingers, or purchased with the pocket money of Mrs. Pomeroy's young ladies.
Good Mr. Holz was in extacies, and declared in his most emphatic manner that it was worthy of the Fatherland. And Mrs. Pomeroy thought as she sat upon the platform, and looked on, that she had never seen a prettier sight. The pleased young faces and merry voices were indeed delightful to the eye and ear, and pleasanter still were the universal good humor and kind feeling that prevailed.
"How sorry I am, that Kitty cannot come down," she said to Miss Gilbert as she stood near her. "She would enjoy it so much. I have been hoping all day, that she would be able to make her appearance at least for a few minutes, but she is too weak."
"Her aunt's present has turned out any thing but a benefit to her," remarked Miss Gilbert.
"Yes in one sense it has proved a great misfortune. I only hope it may not be the cause of her death."
Emily Arlington was standing within hearing, and Mrs. Pomeroy's eye happening to rest upon her as she spoke, she was astonished to see her turn as pale as ashes.
"Why, my dear, what is the matter?" she exclaimed, rising in alarm, for she thought her about to faint. "Are you not well?"
"I feel a little giddy," replied Emily, glad to take the proffered seat, for her heart throbbed so that she could not stand, "but it is nothing of any consequence. I have had the same feeling several times to-day. I think I must have taken cold."
A sort of faint shadow of a suspicion darted through Mrs. Pomeroy's mind at the moment, but it was gone before she fairly recognised it. Emily soon recovered her color, and in a few moments, she was laughing and chatting as gaily as ever, but the watchful and motherly eye still followed her, and Mrs. Pomeroy could not help thinking that much of her merriment was forced and unnatural.