A great fault can be forgiven. It is small
personal offences constantly repeated; little acts of meanness, and,
above all, the petty plans and provisions of a selfish nature. Besides
which, the soul has often marvellous intuitions, unmasking men and
things; premonitions, warnings, intelligences, that it cannot doubt and
cannot explain.
Inside the house there was a pleasant air and stir of preparation; the
rapid movements of servants, the shutting and opening of doors, the low
laughter of gay hearts well contented with the time and the
circumstances. Outside, the mesmerizing snow was falling with a soft,
silent persistence. The squire looked sadly at the white hills, and the
white park, and the branches bending under their load, and the sombre
sky, gray upon darker gray.
Last Christmas the girls had relied entirely upon his help. He had found
the twine, and driven the nails, and steadied the ladder when Sophia's
light form mounted it in order to hang the mistletoe. They had been so
happy. The echo of their voices, their snatches of Christmas carols,
their laughter and merry badinage, was still in his heart. He remembered
the impromptu lunch, which they had enjoyed so much while at work. He
could see the mother come smiling in, with constant samples of the
Christmas cheer fresh out of the oven. He had printed the verses and
mottoes himself, spent all the afternoon over them, and been rather
proud of his efforts.
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