"It
is mizzling already, Charlotte; the snow will turn into rain, and we
shall have a downpour. Had we not better go home?"
But Charlotte painted in such glowing colors Ducie's fireside, and the
pipe, and the cosey, quiet dinner they would be sure to get there, that
the squire could not resist the temptation. "For all will be at sixes
and sevens at home," he commented, "and no peace for anybody, with
greens and carols and what not. Eh? What?"
"And very likely, as it is Christmas Eve, you may be asked to give
Sophia away. So a nice dinner, and a quiet smoke, and an hour's nap will
help you through to-night." And the thought in each heart, beyond this
one, was "Perhaps Harry will be at home."
Nobody missed the fugitives. Mrs. Sandal was sure Harry would come, and
she was busy preparing his room with her own hands. The brightest fire,
the gayest greens, the whitest and softest and best of every thing, she
chose for Harry's room.
Certainly they were not missed by Julius and Sophia. They were far too
much interested in themselves and in their own affairs. From the first
hour of his return to Seat-Sandal, Sophia had understood that Julius was
her lover, and that the time for his declaration rested in the main with
herself. When the Christmas bells were ringing, when the house was
bright with light and evergreens, and the very atmosphere full of
happiness, she had determined to give him the necessary encouragement.
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