“Good Christian men rejoice, In heart and soul and voice; Now ye hear of endless bliss; Joy! joy! Jesus Christ was born for this! He hath oped the heavenly door. And man is blessed evermore. Christ was born for this.” Cecil, glancing up at her when the carol was ended, read her secret in her happy, glowing face. She rose from the piano. “A happy Christmas to you,” she said, kissing her on both cheeks. “We have been out in the garden, right down in the lower path, and you can’t think how lovely the bells sound,” said Sigrid. Then, with a fresh stab of pain at her heart, she thought of Frithiof’s spoiled life; she looked wistfully across at him, conscious that her love for Roy had only deepened her love for those belonging to her. Was he never to know anything more satisfying than the peace of being freed from the heavy load of suspicion? Was he only to know the pain of love? All her first desire to keep her secret to herself died away as she looked at him, and in another minute her hand was on his arm. “Dear old boy,” she said to him in Norse, “wont you come out into the garden with me for a few minutes?” So they went out together into the starlight, and wandered down to the sheltered path where she and Roy had paced to and fro so long. “What a happy Christmas it has been for us all!” she said thoughtfully. “Very; and how little we expected it,” said Frithiof. “Do you think,” she began falteringly, “do you think, Frithiof, it would make you less happy if I told you of a new happiness that has come to me?” Her tone as much as the actual words suddenly enlightened him. “Whatever makes for your happiness makes for mine,” he said, trying to read her face. “Are you sure of that?” she said, the tears rushing to her eyes. “Oh, if I could quite believe you, Frithiof, how happy I should be!” “Why should you doubt me?” he asked. “Come, I have guessed your secret, you are going to tell me that—” “That Roy will some day be your brother as well as your friend,” she said, finishing his sentence for him. He caught her hand in his and held it fast. “I wish you joy, Sigrid, with all my heart. This puts the finishing touch to our Christmas happiness.” “And Roy has been making such plans,” said Sigrid, brushing away her tears; “he says that just over the wall there is a charming little house back to back, you know, with this one, and it will just hold us all, for of course he will never allow us to be separated. He told me that long ago, when he first asked me.” “Long ago?” said Frithiof; “why, what do you mean, Sigrid? I thought it was only to-night.”