CHAPTER I.
The twenty-fourth had been cold and stormy: a keen, biting wind blowing continuously, during the greater part of the day, bringing with it a heavy fall of sleet and snow.
The weather on Christmas Day was an improvement upon that—the wind being less boisterous and the snow-fall only an occasional light flurry, but the sun scarcely showed his face, and as evening drew on the moon shone but fitfully and through skurrying clouds; the ground was white with snow, but as it had drifted badly, the roads were not in condition for sleighing, and Max Raymond and Evelyn Leland made the journey from Woodburn to the Oaks in a close carriage.
Captain Raymond handed Evelyn in. Max took a seat by her side and gallantly tucked the robes about her feet, remarking that it was the coldest night of the season so far.
“Yes,” she said, “but I suppose we shall have still colder weather before the winter is over. This is nothing to some I have known in my old home at the north.”
“Oh no!” returned Max, “I remember it used to be very much colder where we lived when I was a little fellow.”
Eva smiled, thinking he was not nearly grown up yet.
“And hardly a breath of wind reaches us in this close carriage,” she said. “I shouldn’t care if the ride was to be twice as long.”
“No, nor I,” said Max. “But I dare say we’ll have a fine time after we get to the Oaks.”
“Yes; but I am so sorry your father thought best to decline the invitation for Lulu; I shall not enjoy myself half so well without her,” sighed Evelyn.