At length a bell was rung, and the door thrown open which led to the school-room. The children rushed forward with shouts of joy, followed, somewhat tumultuously, by their father and his guests. Hamilton was the last, and had more time to prepare his eyes for the blaze of light which they had to encounter. In the middle of the room was a large round table, on which was placed a tall fir tree, hung with a profusion of _bon-bons_, of the most varied colours, and sparkling like gems as they reflected the light of the hundreds of wax tapers which were fastened on the dark green branches in their vicinity. On the top of the tree was a diminutive angel, dressed in gold and silver; in the moss which covered the root was a wax infant, surrounded by lambs. The table itself was covered with toys of every description, from drawing-books and boxes for Fritz, to drums and trumpets for Peppy. There were two other tables with smaller trees, to which Madame Rosenberg conducted Hildegarde and Crescenz. The noise was excessive; everyone spoke and nobody listened. Old Hans and the cook were not forgotten; they stood, with their Christmas-boxes and pockets of gingerbread, laughing spectators near the door. Hamilton received a cigar-case from Madame Rosenberg, which she had worked most elaborately for him during his absence, and from Crescenz a scarlet purse, glittering with steel beads; this he particularly admired, while Major Stultz told him he was half inclined to be jealous, it was so much prettier than the one which she had made for him. The presents which Hamilton offered in return were accepted with the best grace imaginable, and he now amused himself watching Crescenz’s face, as she opened the various parcels and inspected the contents of the numerous boxes and caskets on her table. Some natural disappointment was at times legible when, instead of the expected jewels, respectable rows of forks and spoons met her eager eyes; but at length a case of red morocco disclosed such treasures, that Hamilton, after having listened to her expressions of rapture for a few minutes, moved towards Hildegarde, who stood before her table turning over the leaves of some books, which had been placed beside the expected ball dress and wreath of roses. “I have nothing to offer you,” she said, slightly blushing as he approached, “nothing but some _bon-bons_,” and she began to untie some from her tree as she spoke. Hamilton took them, and with unusual diffidence presented the case containing the watch. She had no sooner opened it, than she blushed excessively, and endeavouring to replace it in his hands—failing in her endeavour, she put it on the table, saying, “Mr. Hamilton, I cannot possibly accept anything of such value.” “Your mother and sister have not pained me by making any difficulties,” he said, reproachfully. “Then you must have given them something very different.”