As they thus walked and talked one winter night when the Christmas moon shone solemnly down on a white world, and the songs of angels floated on the clear air—heard only by those two—the breeze wafted back some of the words. Their talk was all about themselves—how the precious gift of each to the other began a year ago last Christmas. And they tried to settle bewildering questions: Whether, if Esther had not insisted on going to the "Old Ladies' Home" that morning she would be walking this Christmas Eve with Paul, and suppose there had been no "Old Ladies' Home," would they ever have met. "And if your Aunt Katherine had not been there—" said Esther. "We owe it all to her, after all." "Your Aunt Katherine! Say my Aunt Katherine," Paul said, looking down at her with shining eyes. And Esther obediently repeated, "My Aunt Katherine." The old moon hid herself behind a cloud just then, and neither she nor Paul saw the lovely color that flushed the happy face. In the spring when all things are made new, they two clasped hands and began their new life together. Their wedding journey was not made to some famous fashionable resort; they were of one mind in this, as in everything else. They sought a quiet retreat where they might carry on their intimacy with nature, and she rewarded them; she unsealed her fountains and discovered to them her secret nooks and crannies, her buds and blossoms and delicacies, as she does to no one but ardent worshippers. They searched the woods and glens, climbed mountains and wandered by streams, and walked and rode and talked and studied, with not one hour of dullness. And then they went back to the little house and lived their beautiful lives. "Two to the world for the world's work's sake, But each unto each, as in Thy sight, one." And the world said, "Poor thing! She was jilted by that rich Mr. Langdon, you know, and now she has had to take up with a poor young doctor;" which shows just how much the world knows about Esther's affairs, and ours. When the years had gone away and Dr. Evarts' praises were in every mouth, and he had become rich and celebrated, Miss Sophy Ward was fond of speaking of "My cousin, Mrs. Dr. Evarts." Aunt Katherine, too, had occasion for triumph and for heaping some very hot "coals of fire," but she never thought of either. Mrs. Agnew had lost her property, and the Agnew estate was sold to the highest bidder, which was Dr. Evarts. Strange to say he was able to place Aunt Katherine in her old room, with many of the dear familiar objects of other days about her; while the wretched woman who had played her brief part in this history, lived in a humble home not far off. She was sick and poor and miserable. To her Mrs. Lyman ministered as if she had received nothing but kindness at her hands. And Christ-like love conquered in the end; it broke down the hard heart and brought her into faith and peace.