"My brave, my saintly boy! Arthur's boy!" sobbed a deep, manly voice; and the young lord found himself clasped in a warm, living, loving embrace, while a bronzed, bearded face with great luminous dark eyes looked almost reverently into his.
"Nephew, you have done what I believed no mortal could do. You have brought tears into Charles Thornbury's eyes, and peace into his heart!"
"O Aunt Caddy, Aunt Caddy!" cried Arthur joyfully; "speak to him. It is Uncle Charles; dear Uncle Charles, that I wrote to so long ago!"
Aunt Caddy was pale and speechless as the marble shaft against which she leaned for support; but Colonel Thornbury had a more potent spell. "Caroline!"—the low whisper brought a flush to cheek and brow—"Caroline, my long lost love, whose tender heart I wounded so deeply, can you too join your voice to this angel boy's, and whisper peace? Caroline, I was mad with wounded pride and jealous love—love that scorned the thought of gain, that snapped every tie when they said it was for your wealth I sought you. God forgive me! I cast the words back in their teeth, and swore I would roam the world a penniless adventurer rather than be enriched by my wife. Caroline, if my sin was great, my punishment has been bitter. Ten years; ten long, weary, loveless years! Arthur has welcomed me with the voice of peace. Have you no Christmas gift for the penitent wanderer? None for the faithful heart that has ever been yours alone?" Lady Caroline was pale again; but a radiance fairer than moonlight seemed to light up her brow.
"Arthur has given you peace; and I—I, Charles, have only the love that has waited for you these long, weary years—that would have waited for you until death!"
And the sequel to this little Christmas romance? Need we tell of the wild joy and amazement that reëchoed through the hoary old hall? Of the girlish roses that deepened in Aunt Caddy's still beautiful cheek, and the radiant light in the wanderer's clear dark eye as, a few months later, the merry peal of wedding-bells succeeded the Christmas chimes?
"A blithe bridal for a bonnie bride," Arthur had said when the long-parted lovers pleaded his fast failing health as a reason for a quiet wedding.
"Uncle Charles, if you don't have a real glorious wedding, I'll marry Aunt Caddy myself." Brightest and merriest of all was the lordly young host as he welcomed his guests with the princely grace that so well became him, though many a living heart was sad, and kindly eye grew dim, as they marked in the glowing cheek and wasted form the fatal heritage of his youthful parents.
Once only he himself betrayed amid his graceful gayety the consciousness of his early doom.