My father laughed, and on we went, he scattering kindly questions and good wishes—words for the little nurses who were tending the babies; words for the mothers who must strive to teach their young ones to know and heed the voice of the Good Shepherd. I think I never enjoyed a walk more; and as it was that most delightful of Christmas seasons, not only frosty, but with the moon rising to turn all the frail crystals into shining gems, our stroll home through the park was very lovely. We had no other guests that night; but we were to have quite a gathering of various ages on Christmas Day. My aunt had taken good care that there should be plenty in every home round Denesfield. There should not be festival in the hall and pinching want in the cottage; no thought of spiritual blessings sent at that season disturbed by thoughts of earthly needs unsupplied. My sisters and I had a great deal to say to each other; and many questions were asked and answered by us, while the elders sat and talked, at some distance from us, in the great drawing-room. During a little pause in our conversation, I heard my father say to Aunt Milly, "Will any of the Denes be here to-morrow?" My aunt's face flushed as she answered, "No; I have seen nothing of the Denes since my return to England. They have neither written to nor come near me." "I am sorry for that, Milly," said my father. "I did not like to name it in a letter; but somehow, knowing how your views were changed in so many things, I hoped that those old differences were now only like shadows of a nearly forgotten past." "What could I do, Stephen?" said my aunt. "You know quite well that all the enmity was on the side of the Denes. You must remember that I did nothing to provoke it. The only fault they could bring against me was, that I inherited what was never theirs, and what my husband had a right to dispose of as he chose." I did not hear my father's answer; but Aunt Milly spoke again, in that earnest way which proved how she felt all she said. "No, Stephen, believe me, I have not the smallest feeling of anger or revenge. How could I entertain bitter thoughts in my heart when I remember that, as a disciple of Christ, my love towards my neighbour must not be 'in word; neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth?'" "Then if one of Edmund Dene's children had come to Denesfield, you would have welcomed him?" "Most certainly I would. Edmund himself is dead, you know; so there is no brother of my husband's left." Just then the servants came trooping in as usual to prayers, and the conversation was not resumed. But what I had heard set me thinking of things belonging to that far-away past that my father spoke of, and of the circumstances which made Aunt Milly's husband owner of Denesfield.