standing out in every direction in their peculiar stiff gracefulness.
'I see it now!' said she, in a low voice full of awe. 'Uncle, I did not mean to make it so!'
'How?' he asked.
'It is like Good Friday!' said she, as the resemblance to the crown of thorns struck her more and more strongly.
'Well, why not, my dear?' said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in a sort of alarm. 'Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for Good Friday?'
'Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy.'
'Where are those verses that say-let me see-
'And still Thy Church's faith
Shall link, in all her prayer and praise,
Thy glory with Thy death.' So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right.'
Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, 'It is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art-or, what shall I call it?-is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the author intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else.'
'There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the spirit in which a thing is done,' said her father: 'But have you much more to do? Those columns look very well.'
'O, are you come to help us, papa?'
'I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your not coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again just at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you.'
Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, 'Very well, we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make her think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?'
It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows that it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was promised. He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste and execution, the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin came in, his surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which had grown up in his absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of evergreen at the east end, centring in the crown and letters; the spiral festoons round the pillars; the sprays in every niche; the tower of holly over the font-all were more beautiful, both together and singly, than he had even imagined, and he was profuse in admiration and thanks.
The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. as they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocal: children's voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance, were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with
'As shepherds watch'd their flocks by night.' And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little voices was brought on the still frosty wind-
'Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind.'
Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,-how really Christmas-like-how well it suited the soft half-light, the last pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn stars that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!-and how the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta's eyes!
The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, with Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary's beautiful voice, was not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was teasing Fred all the time about his defection? The church singers came up to the Hall, and the drawing-room door was set open for the party to listen to them; grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk with them, and so passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the many little troops of young small voices outside the windows, to whom Mrs. Langford's plum buns, and Mr. Geoffrey's sixpences, were a very enjoyable part of the Christmas festivities.
CHAPTER VII.
THE double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must be so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the party, while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage by old Mr. Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with recollecting that no companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It was a sight to be remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his arm, her sweet expression of peace and resignation, making her even more lovely than when last she entered there-her face in all its early bloom of youthful beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness.
But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that 'peace which passeth all understanding;' and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency rather than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and wholesome channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church seemed to her more full of her father's presence than of any other, so now, throughout the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her mother; and entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived to work herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by her mamma's own anxieties for Fred.
Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they all left the church together. What would she not have given to be able to talk her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be assured by them that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not suffer from it. But though neither of them was indifferent or unfeeling, there was not much likelihood of sympathy from them just at present. Beatrice had always been sure that Aunt Mary would behave like an angel; and when Fred saw that his mother looked tranquil, and showed no symptoms of agitation, he dismissed anxiety from his mind, and never even guessed at his sister's alarms.
Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations which had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, replying to the scolding with which she visited their desertion.
Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations, which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the morning sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were the compliments which the two young ladies received upon their handiwork. The old women had 'never seen nothing like it,' -the school children whispered to each other, 'How pretty!' Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. Franklin admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were delighted; grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had expected; and Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it 'was like magic.'
It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall was so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in time for evening service. After which, according to a practice of which she had often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable reminiscences, the Langford family almost always went in a body on a progress to the farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows milked.
Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the amusement of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where a narrow path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle- looking sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen.
Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept him estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for execution. Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their grandfather was wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping them to feed the cows with turnips, and guarding them from going behind their heels. Henrietta was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was doing the honours for her, and instructing her in the difference between a Guernsey cow and a short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he had
