Every one participated in the preparation by noting each successive step towards completion. Thus the work progressed until it was time for the ladies to dress for dinner; after which the evening was spent in the same occupation, with the valuable assistance of Mr. Howe and Captain Douglas.
After several days had elapsed, the work was considered complete. The design was choice and beautiful. Nothing was necessary to produce a more graceful and pleasing effect. Holly there was none, but our woods supplied the loss with lovely evergreens of native growth.
It was the day preceding Christmas eve. Mirth and joy revelled around the glowing firesides. Happy faces beamed with radiating smiles. Each was trying to do some small act of kindness for the benefit of the household. A Christmas tree, in all its mysterious surroundings, was being laden with beautiful presents. Loving tokens of friendship were placed on its strong branches by lovely and delicate hands. Lady Douglas presided over these mysteries, in the secret chamber, with the vigilance of the dragon who guarded the golden apples in the classic shades of the Hesperides. All busy little feet were turned towards the door, but further entrance was barred by gentle admonition from her ladyship.
Lady Rosamond had been allowed the privacy of her own apartments without interruption. She was preparing some tokens of regard for different members of the family. Many chaste and valuable articles had been received from home for this purpose, but she wished to make some choice trinkets as her own work. Many times she had stolen a half-hour to devote to this labor of love. An elegant silk purse had been netted for Lady Douglas. For Mary Douglas she is engaged on a prettily-designed portfolio. None were forgotten, not even Sir Howard, who was the recipient of a neat dressing-case. As Lady Rosamond's deft fingers wrought upon each article her mind was busy upon a far different, and, to her, important matter. She longed for sympathy and advice. Her father gave himself little concern regarding her ambiguously-written message. He saw that his daughter was somewhat cold and indifferent to her cousin's preference, but he expected that, on her return, she would readily agree to anything which met his approval. Not wishing to repeat the sentiment of the letter thus described, Sir Thomas Seymour had considered moderation as the surest hope of success. Having thus expressed his opinion to Lady Bereford, the Admiral was assured and confident. On this Christmas season he had selected a costly locket, studded with diamonds, as a gift to Lady Rosamond, and dwelt, with loving pride, upon the many gentle qualities of the lovely girl; her happy prospects as Lady Bereford, adored by a fond husband, beloved by all.
Happy Lady Rosamond! in thy busy thoughts. Dared we venture for thee an encouraging word, it would be "Every cloud has a silver lining."
Christmas eve was a scene of stir and excitement. Though work was done in a systematic manner, the unusual tasks of labor and love were hurrying upon each other with increasing rapidity. The servant's hall was not to be passed over at this joyous time. Everyone, both family and servants, shared in the festivity. How the graceful form of Mary Douglas flew from room to room, arranging some pleasing surprise, planning some little act of courtesy or civility. The housekeeper's room, stealthily invaded by bribing another domestic, becomes the hiding place of a handsome lace cap. Each maid finds under her pillow a sovereign and some little trinket, as a ribbon, scarf or work box.
These were happy moments in the life of Mary Douglas. In the performance of such acts of goodness she was truly happy. This lovely girl was possessed of the united virtues of Sir Howard and Lady Douglas. Free from the remotest clouds of sorrow or care, Mary Douglas was indeed to be envied. Her father's smile was of more value to his gifted daughters than the most flattering attention from the many admirers who vainly tried to receive the slightest sign of encouragement.
That Lady Rosamond often longed for the happy and contented hours of her companion—for a like participation of uninterrupted and halcyon days, should form no ground for surprise. "How I should like to tell Mary my trouble and receive her sweet counsel," murmured the sad girl. "I should feel the burden lighter to bear, but it would seem almost a sacrilege to invade upon such quiet harmony, for, with her sweet sympathizing nature, I know that Mary would grieve over my sorrow. Dear girl, your Christmas shall not be clouded by me," soliloquized Lady Rosamond, "I love you too deeply to wish you care like mine. Ah, no, Mary darling, may you never know the depth of sorrow such as mine."
Lady Rosamond stood before her mirror to place a tiny rosebud in the raven hair that encircled her stately head in luxuriant coils. Slight and graceful in form, she saw indeed a pretty picture reflected there. It seemed to mock her with pitying gaze. Her black silk dress revealed the snowy whiteness of her beautifully rounded shoulders and arms, pure as the marble mantel upon which she rested. The costly locket, with its flashing diamonds, suspended by a heavy gold chain, rested upon her bosom. She thought of her father's kindness as she placed his gift to her lips, exclaiming, "Poor, dear papa, how I should like to see him to-night; I love him so fondly. If he knew what I am suffering perhaps he might relent. No doubt he is lonely to-night and wishing to see his 'only little girl,' as he lovingly calls me."
Presently Lady Rosamond was formally ushered into the apartment where the company, comprising the family and a few intimate friends, were assembled to divest the Christmas tree of its gay clothing and appendages.