ey swept around
slowly in their accustomed course, and again paused for a minute.
Thereby I deciphered the letter M, and started into full and instant
animation. I had, of course, overslept myself, and thereby, probably,
lost a portion of Jessie's dear message. How much of it, indeed?

"What is the hour, Barry?"

"Half-past twelve," he said. "But what do you make of yonder
business? Is it some accident to the works, do you think?--or has old
Barkstead gone on a spree again, as they say he once did, and is now
playing fast and loose with the lights?"

While he had been speaking, new revolutions, broken, by longer or
shorter pauses, had succeeded; and I deciphered the additional letters
A and S.

"Whatever it may be, Barry," I then answered--forcing myself to attend
to him, and feeling a little guilty for being obliged to keep the
mysterious secret from him--"don't you see that nothing can be done
about it, now? Go, therefore, to bed again. This cold lantern is no
place for you to remain in. And to-morrow, bright and early, I will go
out myself, and ascertain what may be the matter."

With that, I gently pushed Barry down the first two or three steps,
and heard him go grumbling and puffing the rest of the way to his own
nook. Meanwhile, the bright signalling from Beacon Point went
on--letter after letter--until, at last, I read out the whole
sentence:

"_----mas has come._"

"Christmas has come!" This, of course, was the completion of the
message; for it was not now difficult to supply those letters which,
through my tardy awakening, I had missed. My heart bounded high with
joy and exultation. Sanguinely as I had anticipated a favorable
verdict at Jessie's hands, my utmost hopes had never asked for such a
frank and instant admission of her preference as this. To be reminded,
at the very first stroke of the midnight hour, that the important day
for decision had arrived: what was this but being told that the day
should bring its blessing with it?--that Jessie herself had awaited
its approach as eagerly as I had, feeling as acutely the delay?--that
now there should be no more disguise or misconstruction between us?
Christmas had come! It was, indeed, a frank and noble response to my
message of the night before, telling me that now, at last, she had
surrendered her heart to my safe-keeping. Had it been possible, I
would have run over at once to Beacon Ledge, and pressed her to my
heart. But, of course, not the