doubting whether Walter's mother appreciated the full extent of
it; 'indeed, we have all a great deal to thank you for. I hope my
sisters and I may be the better all our lives for the helps and
explanations you have given to us. Is that the last candle? How
beautiful! We must open.'

'Miss Conway--'

'Yes'--she paused with her hand on the key.

'No, no--do not wait,' taking the key himself. 'Yet--yes, I must--I
must thank you for such words--'

'My words?' said Isabel, smiling. 'For thanking you, or being happy
here?'

'Both! both! Those words will be my never-failing charm. You little
guess how I shall live on the remembrance. Oh, if I could only convey
to you what feelings you have excited--'

The words broke from him as if beyond his control, and under the
pressing need of not wasting the tapers, he instinctively unlocked the
door as he spoke, and cut himself short by turning the handle, perhaps
without knowing what he was about.

Instantly Lady Conway and Miss King each pushed a folding leaf, Isabel
and James drew back on either side, and the spectators beheld the tall
glistening evergreen, illuminated with countless little spires of
light, glancing out among the dark leaves, and reflected from the gilt
fir-cones, glass balls, and brilliant toys.

'Sister! sister!' cried Miss Mercy, standing by Miss Faithfull's chair,
in the rear of the throng, and seizing her hand in ecstasy; 'it is like
a dream! like what we have read of! Oh, the dear little children! So
very kind of Lady Conway! Could you have imagined--?' She quite gasped.

'It is very pretty, but it was a nicer Christmas-tree last year at Lady
Runnymede's,' said Louisa, with the air of a critic. 'There we had
coloured lamps.'

'Little fastidious puss!' said Louis, 'I thought you keeping in the
background out of politeness; but I see you are only blasee with
Christmas-trees. I pity you! I could no more be critical at such a
moment than I could analyse the jewels in Aladdin's cave.'

'Oh, if you and Miss Faithfull talk, Cousin Fitzjocelyn, you will make
it seem quite new.'

'You will deride the freshness of our simplicity,' said Louis, but
presently added, 'Miss Salome, have we not awakened to the enchanted
land? Did ever mortal tree bear stars of living flame? Here are
realized the fabled apples of gold--nay, the fir-cones of Nineveh, the
jewel-fruits of Eastern story, depend from the same bough. Yonder lamps
shine by fairy spell