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  CHAPTER XLI

  THE FIRST CHRISTMAS

  Christmas Eve in a little village of Northern New York--a whiteChristmas, clear and cold. In the dark, blue-black of the sky theglittering stars were spread thick; the brilliant moon poured down itssilver light over the whiteness of the sloping roof-tops, and upon theghostly white, silently drooping trees. A heaviness hung in the frostyair--a stillness broken only by the tinkling of sleigh-bells orsometimes by the merry laughter of the passers-by.

  At the outskirts of the village, a little back from the road, afarmhouse lay snuggled up between two huge apple-trees--anold-fashioned, rambling farmhouse with a steeply pitched roof, piledhigh now, with snow. It was brilliantly lighted this Christmas Eve, itslower windows sending forth broad yellow beams of light over thewhiteness of the ground outside.

  In one of the lower rooms of the house, before a huge, blazing log-fire,a woman and four men sat talking. Across the room, at a table, a littleboy was looking at a picture-book by the light of an oil-lamp.

  The woman made a striking picture as she sat back at ease before thefire. She was dressed in a simple black evening-dress such as a lady ofthe city would wear. It covered her shoulders, but left her throat bare.Her features, particularly her eyes, had a slight Oriental cast, whichthe mass of very black hair coiled on her head accentuated. Yet she didnot look like an Oriental, nor indeed like a woman of any race of thisearth. Her cheeks were red--the delicate diffused red of perfect health.But underneath the red there lay a curious mixture of other colours, notonly on her cheeks but particularly noticeable on her neck and arms. Herskin was smooth as a pearl; in the mellow firelight it glowed, with theiridescence of a shell.

  The four men were dressed in the careless negligee of city men in thecountry. They were talking gaily now among themselves. The woman spokeseldom, staring dreamily into the fire.

  A clock in another room struck eight; the woman glanced over to wherethe child sat, absorbed with the pictures in his book. The page at whichhe was looking showed a sleigh loaded with toys, with a team ofreindeers and a jolly, fat, white-bearded, red-jacketed old man drivingthe sleigh over the chimney tops.

  "Come Loto, little son," the woman said. "You hear--it is the time ofsleep for you."

  The boy put down his book reluctantly and went over to the fireplace,standing beside his mother with an arm about her neck.

  "Oh, _mamita_ dear, will he surely come, this Santa Claus? He never knewabout me before; will he surely come?"

  Lylda kissed him tenderly. "He will come, Loto, every Christmas Eve; toyou and to all the other children of this great world, will he alwayscome."

  "But you must be asleep when he comes, Loto," one of the men admonished.

  "Yes, my father, that I know," the boy answered gravely. "I will gonow."

  "Come back Loto, when you have undressed," the Chemist called after him,as he left the room. "Remember you must hang your stocking."

  When they were left alone Lylda looked at her companions and smiled.

  "His first Christmas," she said. "How wonderful we are going to make itfor him."

  "I can remember so well," the Big Business Man remarked thoughtfully,"when they first told me there was no Santa Claus. I cried, for I knewChristmas would never be the same to me."

  "Loto is nearly twelve years old," the Doctor said. "Justimagine--having his first Christmas."

  "We're going to make it a corker," said the Banker. "Where's the tree?We got one."

  "In the wood-shed," Lylda answered. "He has not seen it; I was so verycareful."

  They were silent a moment. Then: "My room is chock full of toys," theBanker said reflectively. "But this is a rotten town for candycanes--they only had little ones." And they all laughed.

  "I have a present for you, Lylda," the Chemist said after a moment.

  "Oh, but you must not give it until to-morrow; you yourself have told methat."

  The Chemist rose. "I want to give it now," he said, and left the room.In a moment he returned, carrying a mahogany pedestal under one arm anda square parcel in the other. He set the pedestal upright on the floorin a corner of the room and began opening the package. It was a mahoganycase, cubical in shape. He lifted its cover, disclosing a glass-bell setupon a flat, mahogany slab. Fastened to the center of this was ahandsome black plush case, in which lay a gold wedding-ring.

  Lylda drew in her breath sharply and held it; the three other men staredat the ring in amazement. The Chemist was saying: "And I decided not todestroy it, Lylda, for your sake. There is no air under this glasscover; the ring is lying in a vacuum, so that nothing can come out of itand live. It is quite safe for us to keep it--this way. I thought ofthis plan, afterwards, and decided to keep the ring--for you." He setthe glass bell on the pedestal.

  Lylda stood before it, bending down close over the glass.

  "You give me back--my world," she breathed; then she straightened up,holding out her arms toward the ring. "My birthplace--my people--theyare safe." And then abruptly she sank to her knees and began softlysobbing.

  Loto called from upstairs and they heard him coming down. Lylda wentback hastily to the fire; the Chemist pushed a large chair in front ofthe pedestal, hiding it from sight.

  The boy, in his night clothes, stood on the hearth beside his mother.

  "There is the stocking, _mamita_. Where shall I hang it?"

  "First the prayer, Loto. Can you remember?"

  The child knelt on the hearth, with his head in his mother's lap.

  "Now I lay me----" he began softly, halting over the unfamiliar words.Lylda's fingers stroked his brown curly head as it nestled against herknees; the firelight shone golden in his tousled curls.

  The Chemist was watching them with moist eyes. "His first Christmas," hemurmured, and smiled a little tender smile. "His first Christmas."

  The child was finishing.

  "And God bless Aura, and Jack, and----"

  "And Grandfather Reoh," his mother prompted softly.

  "And Grandfather Reoh--and _mamita_, and----" The boy ended with arush--"and me too. Amen. Now where do I hang the stocking, mother?"

  In a moment the little stocking dangled from a mantel over thefireplace.

  "You are sure he will come?" the child asked anxiously again.

  "It is certain, Loto--if you are asleep."

  Loto kissed his mother and shook hands solemnly with the men--a grave,dignified little figure.

  "Good night, Loto," said the Big Business Man.

  "Good night, sir. Good night, my father--good night, _mamita_; I shallbe asleep very soon." And with a last look at the stocking he ran out ofthe room.

  "What a Christmas he will have," said the Banker, a little huskily.

  A girl stood in the doorway that led into the dining-room adjoining--acurious-looking girl in a gingham apron and cap. Lylda looked up.

  "Oh, Eena, please will you say to Oteo we want the tree from thewood-shed--in the dining-room."

  The little maid hesitated. Her mistress smiled and added a few words inforeign tongue. The girl disappeared.

  "Every window gets a holly wreath," the Doctor said. "They're in a boxoutside in the wood-shed."

  "Look what I've got," said the Big Business Man, and produced from hispocket a little folded object which he opened triumphantly into a longserpent of filigree red paper on a string with little red and greenpaper bells hanging from it. "Across the doorway," he added, waving hishand.

  A moment after there came a stamping of feet on the porch outside, andthen the banging of an outer door. A young man and girl burst into theroom, kicking the snow from their feet and laughing. The youth carriedtwo pairs of ice-skates slung over his shoulder; as he entered the roomhe flung them clattering to the floor.

  The girl, even at first glance, was extraordinarily pretty. She wassmall and very slender of build. She wore stout high-laced tan shoes, aheavy woollen skirt that fell to her shoe-tops and a short, belted coat,with a high collar buttoned tight about her throat. She was cov
ered nowwith snow. Her face and the locks of hair that strayed from under herknitted cap were soaking wet.

  "He threw me down," she appealed to the others.

  "I didn't--she fell."

  "You did; into the snow you threw me--off the road." She laughed. "But Iam learning to skate."

  "She fell three times," said her companion accusingly.

  "Twice only, it was," the girl corrected. She pulled off her cap, and agreat mass of black hair came tumbling down about her shoulders.

  Lylda, from her chair before the fire, smiled mischievously.

  "Aura, my sister," she said in a tone of gentle reproof. "So immodest itis to show all that hair."

  The girl in confusion began gathering it up.

  "Don't you let her tease you, Aura," said the Big Business Man. "It'svery beautiful hair."

  "Where's Loto?" asked the Very Young Man, pulling off his hat and coat.

  "In bed--see his stocking there."

  A childish treble voice was calling from upstairs. "Good night,Aura--good night, my friend Jack."

  "Good night, old man--see you to-morrow," the Very Young Man called backin answer.

  "You mustn't make so much noise," the Doctor said reprovingly. "He'llnever get to sleep."

  "No, you mustn't," the Big Business Man agreed. "To-morrow's a very verybig day for him."

  "Some Christmas," commented the Very Young Man looking around. "Where'sthe holly and stuff?"

  "Oh, we've got it all right, don't you worry," said the Banker.

  "And mistletoe," said Lylda, twinkling. "For you, Jack."

  Eena again stood in the doorway and said something to her mistress. "Thetree is ready," said Lylda.

  The Chemist rose to his feet. "Come on, everybody; let's go trim it."

  They crowded gaily into the dining-room, leaving the Very Young Man andAura sitting alone by the fire. For some time they sat silent, listeningto the laughter of the others trimming the tree.

  The Very Young Man looked at the girl beside him as she sat staring intothe fire. She had taken off her heavy coat, and her figure seemed longand very slim in the clothes she was wearing now. She sat bendingforward, with her hands clasped over her knees. The long line of herslender arm and shoulder, and the delicacy of her profile turned towardshim, made the Very Young Man realize anew how fragile she was, and howbeautiful.

  Her mass of hair was coiled in a great black pile on her head, with abig, loose knot low at the neck. The iridescence of her skin gleamedunder the flaming red of her cheeks. Her lips, too, were red, with thesmooth, rich red of coral. The Very Young Man thought with a shock ofsurprise that he had never noticed before that they were red; in thering there had been no such color.

  In the room adjoining, his friends were proposing a toast over theChristmas punch bowl. The Chemist's voice floated in through thedoorway.

  "To the Oroids--happiness to them." Then for an instant there wassilence as they drank the toast.

  Aura met the Very Young Man's eyes and smiled a little wanly."Happiness--to them! I wonder. We who are so happy to-night--I wonder,are they?"

  The Very Young Man leaned towards her. "You are happy, Aura?"

  The girl nodded, still staring wistfully into the fire.

  "I want you to be," the Very Young Man added simply, and fell silent.

  A blazing log in the fire twisted and rolled to one side; the cracklingflames leaped higher, bathing the girl's drooping little figure in theirgolden light.

  The Very Young Man after a time found himself murmuring familiar linesof poetry. His memory leaped back. A boat sailing over a silent summerlake--underneath the stars--the warmth of a girl's soft little bodytouching his--her hair, twisted about his fingers--the thrill in hisheart; he felt it now as his lips formed the words:

  "The stars would be your pearls upon a string, The world a ruby for your finger-ring, And you could have the sun and moon to wear, If I were king."

  "You remember, Aura, that night in the boat?"

  Again the girl nodded. "I shall learn to read it--some day," she saideagerly. "And all the others that you told me. I want to. They sing--sobeautifully."

  A sleigh passed along the road outside; the jingle of its bells driftedin to them. The Very Young Man reached over and gently touched thegirl's hand; her fingers closed over his with an answering pressure. Hisheart was beating fast.

  "Aura," he said earnestly. "I want to be King--for you--this firstChristmas and always. I want to give you--all there is in this life, ofhappiness, that I can give--just for you."

  The girl met his gaze with eyes that were melting with tenderness.

  "I love you, Aura," he said softly.

  "I love you, too, Jack," she whispered, and held her lips up to his.

 
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