"It is impossible for me to leave Little Cray at this season," he wrote. "It would not be right for me to suggest such a thing to Mr. Worthington so, much as I should like to give my darling sister a brother's kiss, and tell her, instead of writing it, how truly I rejoice with her in this new-born happiness, I must be content to spend my Christmas in old bachelor fashion. As to your coming to me! That is equally impossible. A little cloaked and furred damsel, known to the world as Gertrude Glyn, might be packed off by train, landed at the station nearest to Little Cray, and thence conveyed in a borrowed trap to the rectory. But if she were here in the body she would be absent in spirit. Whilst I was talking to my little sister, she would be hearing again that other voice which has so lately told its love tale, and would answer Leonard whilst brother Arthur was speaking." "No use, darling! I will not have the shell without the kernel, and I love you far too well to wish for your presence under the circumstances. Perhaps another Christmas we may—but no; I will not try to look beyond your happy present. So good-bye, dear sister, and may the joy which is now only in the bud bring glorious blossom in the future. I believe you love wisely, for Leonard is a good man. May you be to each other all that the great Creator willed when He gave man to be the head of the woman, and the wife to be his true helpmeet!" There were more messages, news of Hilda—all the little odds and ends of information which Arthur knew his sister would delight to receive from him. He told her how he was fussed, petted, and tyrannized over by Esther Morris, who interfered with his liberty of action in the choice of garments; of her solemn warnings on the subject of going out without a macintosh when there was only a microscopic shower falling, and her own evident sense of responsibility on the score of his health. Any and everything did he tell which could provoke his sister's mirth, and lead her to think how wonderfully well he was looked after, and how independent of other feminine presence. Not one word about the sinking of heart; not a suggestion about his personal disappointment; no hint of the feeling with which he glanced at the cosy chair on the opposite side of the fireplace, in which he had reckoned on seeing his young sister. Only, when she came, that chair was to have been moved to the same side as his own, in order that hand might clasp hand, and loving pressure tell of mutual sympathy, as they exchanged confidences about the past year. Let the little chair stand; no need to move it. The glossy head has found another resting-place; the taper fingers will be clasped by another hand than Arthur's!