er face steadily to the brighter side, and keeping
ever in mind the happy hour which should reunite them to each other.
Now, in silence, she bound together the last green boughs and put all in
order for the night. Old Catherine had long since gone off, yawning and
blinking, to bed, and Cicely, half-asleep, nodded over the dying fire.
Only her mother watched her, with eyes of loving scrutiny, and Annis
smiled brightly as she kissed the careworn face. "I shall not cry
myself to sleep to-night," she said, resolutely. "This is a time for
gladness; for the star of Bethlehem is shining in the sky, and the birth
of the Lord is at hand."

* * * * *

Bright glowed the Christmas-logs on the capacious hearth till every
pointed leaf and scarlet holly-berry shone in the generous firelight.

"Whosoever against holly doth cry,
In a rope shall be hung full high."

For, when the oak and ash trees babbled to the wind, and betrayed the
Saviour's hiding-place, the holly, the ivy, and the pine kept the secret
hidden in their silent hearts; and for this good deed they stand green
and living under winter's icy breath, while their companions shiver
naked in the blast. Not till the risen sun has danced on Easter morn
shall the oak adorn a Christian household and prove itself forgiven. The
Christmas-pie--the Christ-cradle, as the Saxons used to call it--had
been baked in its oblong dish in memory of the manger at Bethlehem, with
the star of the Magi cut deeply in the swelling crust. The Yule-dough,
cunningly moulded into the likeness of a little babe, had been carefully
laid by as a sovereign protector from the evils of fire, floods,
carnage, and--so say some ancient writers--from the bite of rabid
dogs. Annis Vane, decked out in the bravest array her altered fortunes
would permit, knelt by the blazing hearth. Her ruff was of the finest
lace, and a row of milk-white pearls clasped her slender throat. She
shaded her face from the fire, and piled up shining cones of
bright-brown nuts that seemed to tempt the flames.

[Illustration: The Cavalier From France]

"All we lack now is the mistletoe," she said, half-despondently. "It was
no easy task to find the holly and bring it home unnoticed; but we
cannot gather mistletoe near London, and there is none for sale
throughout the city."

"Of what use is the mistletoe," said the practical Cicely, "when we are
but three women here alone? We can kiss each other as