the electric warmth of her limbs--
still, with all his terror, there awoke in him the sadness of
unutterable desires, such as he had not yet known. For the first time
his whole mode of life, his trifling with the Christmas presents,
appeared to him absurd and childish, and he felt ashamed that the
stranger should know of it; but then again it seemed as if her gift was
the living proof that she understood him, as none else on earth had
understood him, and, in seeking to gratify him after this manner, had
been prompted by the most perfect delicacy of feeling. He resolved to
treasure up the dear gift for ever, never to let it go out of his own
hands; and, carried away by a feeling which totally overpowered him, he
pressed the casket to his breast with vehemence.

"Delightful!" murmured the maiden, "my gift pleases you! Oh, my dearest
Peregrine, then my dreams, my presentiments, have not deceived me!"

Mr. Tyss came somewhat to himself, so that he was able to say, with
great plainness and distinctness, "But, most respected lady, if I only
knew to whom in all the world I had the honour----"

"Cunning man," said the stranger, gently tapping his cheeks,--"to
pretend as if you did not know your faithful Alina! But it is time that
we should leave the good folks here to their own pleasures. Accompany
me, Mr. Tyss."

On hearing the name Alina, Peregrine naturally reverted to his old
attendant, and he felt exactly as if a wind-mill were going round in
his head.

The strange Alina now took the kindest and most gracious leave of the
family, while the bookbinder, from pure wonder and respect, could only
stammer out a something unintelligible; but the children made as if
they had been long acquainted with her, and the wife said, "Such a
kind, handsome man as you are, Mr. Tyss, well deserves to have so kind
and handsome a bride, who, even at this hour, assists him in doing acts
of benevolence. I congratulate you with all my heart."--The strange
lady thanked her with emotion, protesting that the day of her wedding
should also be a day of festival to them; and then, strictly refusing
all attendance, took a taper from the Christmas table to light herself
down the stairs.

It is easy to imagine the feelings of Peregrine at all this, on whose
arm she leant.--"Accompany me, Mr. Tyss,"--that is,--he thought within
himself,--down the stairs to the carriage which stands at the door, and
where the servant, or perhaps a whole set of servan