The pastor, taking advantage of a moment when none were looking, went to the solitary tree, and took from it a letter with a red seal. Then calling his future daughter-in-law, he said, "Since when, dear Alete, have you become so careless of the good things of this world, or so negligent, as to abandon the Christmas tree, without ascertaining all that hangs from it?" "I do not know that I can get anything from it, except a few pieces of ribbon and half-burnt lights." "You think so, do you? Well, look here." "What?" said Alete; "a letter, with Eric's name on it. This is a surprise for him. What is it? That puzzles me. Look, Eric--one day I shall have a right to open your letters, but now be quick and open this yourself." Eric unsealed the letter; and scarcely had he read it, then casting himself at the feet of the old priest, he said--"Ah, father, how I thank you! Then turning to Alete, he said-- "It is an appointment by the Bishop of Hernos and of myself as vicar of this parish. We waited only for that to be able to marry. Now there is no obstacle to our happiness. We will live here with my father, near your own family. May God grant that our hearts may not be disunited. May God grant us new pleasures without robbing us of those of the past. Now, when shall we be married--tell me?" "How you go on!" said Alete. "Must I, because it has seemed fit to our venerable prelate to make you a vicar--(after all it is a sensible appointment)--put on my wedding dress and go to the altar? Do you know I expect a letter from Hernosand or Stockholm! Do you know------" The artless girl, however, sought in vain to conceal, beneath pretended laughter, her deep emotion. She was unable to finish her sentence. She threw herself in her father's arms, then into the old priest's, and gave her hand with dignity to Eric. She said: "Whenever you please, dear Eric, though I am much amazed. I trust you will never have occasion to repent having given me your love and honor." This episcopal letter the pastor had received on the previous evening, and he had been courageous enough to keep the secret until Christmas night, in order to give it more solemnity. It was now the sole subject of conversation, and they talked only of preparations for the marriage, and of the day on which it was to be celebrated. At the instance of Alete he consented to prolong the delay, and the wedding was postponed for a fortnight. "Confess," said Alete to Ireneus, "that you were fortunate in arriving here in the middle of winter, when you could witness our dark tempests, our Christmas festivals, and be present at a Swedish wedding. You will then have only to behold our delicious summer nights; and then, when you return to France, you will be able to speak more learnedly of Sweden than other travelers, who wrote long volumes about it."