"I have had a happy evening, squire;" and his smile included every one in the blessing he left behind. They all followed him to the door, and watched the little crowd take their way through the white park. The snow had quite ceased, the moon rode full and clear in mid-heaven, and near by her there was one bright, bold, steady star. In a short time Elizabeth went with Phyllis to her room, and they laid aside their dresses and ornaments, and, sitting down before the fire, began to talk of Richard and Antony, of Rome and America, and of those innocent, happy hopes which are the joy of youth. How bright their faces were! How prettily the fire-light glinted in their white robes and loosened hair! How sweetly their low voices and rippling laughter broke the drowsy silence of the large, handsome room! Suddenly the great clock in the tower struck twelve. They counted off the strokes on their white fingers, looking into each other's faces with a bright expectancy; and after a moment's pause, out clashed the Christmas bells, answering each other from hill to hill through the moonlit midnight. Phyllis was in an ecstasy of delight. She threw open her window and stood listening, "O, I know what they say, Elizabeth. Glory be to God on high! And hark! There is singing!" "It is the waits, Phyllis." A company of about fifty men and women were coming through the park, filling the air as they came with music, till all the hills and valleys re-echoed the "In Excelsis Gloria" of the sweet old carol: "When Christ was born of Mary free, In Bethlehem that fair citie, The angels sang in holy glee, 'In excelsis gloria!'" They finished the last verses under the Hall windows, and then, after a greeting from the rector and the squire, they turned happily back to the village, singing Herrick's most perfect star song: "Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue, Where is the Babe that lately sprung? Lies He the lily-banks among?" Phyllis was weeping unrestrainedly; Elizabeth, more calm and self-contained, held her against her breast, and smiled down at the happy tears. Blessed are they who have wept for joy! They have known a rapture far beyond the power of laughter to express. The next week was full of visiting and visitors. The squire kept open house. The butler stood at the sideboard all day long, and there was besides one large party which included all the families within a few miles of Hallam that had any acquaintance with the squire. It was, perhaps, a little trial at this time for Phyllis to explain to Elizabeth that she could not dance. "But father is expecting to open the ball with you. He will be very much disappointed." "I am sorry to disappoint him; but, indeed, I cannot." "I will teach you the step and figure in half an hour." "I do not wish to learn. I have both conscientious and womanly scruples against dancing."