of screening her from undue
exertion.

"Forget that it is Christmas time, that's the best thing you can do!
All your life you have worked and schemed to give other people pleasure,
now you must take it easy, and let them have a turn for a change. No
Christmas presents, no village treats, no house-party over the New Year.
You and I will have a quiet resting time, and think of nobody but
ourselves."

His wife smiled, her fine, delicate smile, and stretched out her hand to
meet his.

"Foolish man!" she said softly. "What folly you do talk! The Christmas
presents are _ready_, dear. I begin collecting them each January, as
soon as the last batch is out of the way, and it would break my heart to
disappoint the villagers of their treat; but I'll be very good, and
leave the whole of the arrangements to the vicar. That's a concession
made entirely to please you. I want to please you, because as regards
the house-party I am going to ask _you_ to give in to me! I'd been
planning a very special gathering for this year. Please, dear, don't
say no! It would be such a great interest. I want to ask all the
members of that Heart's Desire party of fifteen years ago--all that are
left, that's to say, and sit over the fire together as we did then, for
the first hour of the New Year, and talk over our different experiences.
I have thought of it for the last three or four years, but something
has always come in the way, and now--now I would rather not postpone it
again."

Her husband knew the meaning of that unwillingness. She was thinking
that she might not live to see another New Year, and the knowledge was
enough to stifle any objections which he might have made.

"You shall do as you choose, dearest," he said softly. "I ask only that
you should spare yourself. You must spend the mornings in your own
room, and then you will be able to enjoy your guests for the rest of the
day." He was silent for a few minutes, gazing into the heart of the
fire. "It is one thing to wish," he said at last, "and another to
confess what has really happened. I wonder if they _will_ confess!"

"Probably--not!" Mrs Ingram said. "We may be sure of one thing at
least, that the happenings which went deepest will never be put into
words. All the same we shall know. It is not only by speech that the
heart tells its secrets, Hubert!"

"But the ordinary man judges only by his ears. His eyes are holden that
he cannot see."

"Ah, well," si