Children's stories; Christian life -- Juvenile fiction; Christmas -- Juvenile fiction
"He is to spend Christmas here, and they all want me to stay,"
wrote Gertrude. "Of course, I should like it, only I want you too,
dear Arthur. I cannot possibly be quite happy until you have seen him,
and told me that you, who stand in place of both father and mother, are
satisfied with my choice, and can ask God's blessing on it. You will
come to us, dear, if only on Christmas Eve. I am sure Mr. Worthington
will contrive to set you at liberty, and some time after the New Year
has begun I will join you at Little Cray. Only, if you cannot possibly
come, I will keep my promise, and spend Christmas at your village
parsonage. But do, please, try to join us here."
"The little gipsy!" exclaimed the Reverend Arthur, as he finished
his, sister's letter. "To think of the child being engaged! But what
nonsense I am talking to myself! She is two-and-twenty—a woman, and
more, even, in the stern eye of the law—and can dispose of herself
without let or hindrance from me—bless her! Not that I would hinder the
bright little bird, or interfere with her choice of a mate. What an
old fellow this letter makes me! I have left the girls such a long way
behind that I can hardly realize how few years really lie between them
and me!"
The curate paced up and down, pausing a moment to see the wet dripping
and trickling from the eaves, the Christmas greenery of laurel, ivy,
and holly shining like burnished metal under their washing, and to hear
the melancholy coo of the pigeons as they crouched under the shelter
of the overhanging roofs, and complained in a neighbourly way of there
being "so much weather about."
Arthur's thoughts left his immediate surroundings. He knew Leonard
Thorold, pretty Gertrude's fiancé, and could picture the little bright
thing looking up to her tall lover as she nestled beside him, the dark
eyes veiled with moisture, the half-shy yet all-trustful clasp on the
strong arm that was to be her support through life. Half to himself,
the brother murmured a prayer for her happiness, and then, sitting
down, he wrote out his loving wishes, his hearty sympathy, his own
unselfish resolution respecting the Christmas visit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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