"Nonsense. Do what you are bid." He said this a little roughly.

"I'll do whatever YOU bid me," said she, meekly: and instantly took off
her dripping shoes, and stockings, and handed them over the pew. She
received, in return, a nice warm pair of worsted stockings.

"Put on these directly," said he, "while I warm your shoes."

He dashed all the wet he could out of the shoes, and, taking them to the
forge, put hot cinders in: he shook the cinders up and down the shoes
so quickly, they had not time to burn, but only to warm and dry them. He
advised Coventry to do the same, and said he was sorry he had only one
pair of stockings to lend. And that was a lie: for he was glad he had
only one pair to lend. When he had quite dried the shoes, he turned
round, and found Grace was peeping over the pew, and looking intolerably
lovely in the firelight. He kissed the shoes furtively, and gave them to
her. She shook her head in a remonstrating way, but her eyes filled.

He turned away, and, rousing all his generous manhood, said, "Now you
must both eat something, before you go." He produced a Yorkshire pie,
and some bread, and a bottle of wine. He gave Mr. Coventry a saucepan,
and set him to heat the wine; then turned up his sleeves to the
shoulder, blew his bellows, and, with his pincers, took a lath of steel
and placed it in the white embers. "I have only got one knife, and you
won't like to eat with that. I must forge you one apiece."

Then Grace came out, and stood looking on, while he forged knives, like
magic, before the eyes of his astonished guests. Her feet were now as
warm as a toast, and her healthy young body could resist all the rest.
She stood, with her back to the nearest pew, and her hands against
the pew too, and looked with amazement, and dreamy complacency, at the
strange scene before her: a scene well worthy of Salvator Rosa; though,
in fact, that painter never had the luck to hit on so variegated a
subject.

Three broad bands of light shot from the fires, expanding in size, but
weakening in intensity. These lights, and the candles at the west
end, revealed in a strange combination the middle ages, the nineteenth
century, and eternal nature.

Nature first. Snow gleaming on the windows. Oh, it was cozy to see it
gleam and sparkle, and to think "Aha! you all but killed me; now King
Fire warms both thee and me." Snow-flakes, of enormous size, softly
descending, and each appearing a diamond brooch, as it passed t