crament on that happy morning, and
after service he had distributed the Maltravers dole in our chapel.
There are given, as you know, on that day to each of twelve old men L5
and a green coat, and a like sum of money with a blue cloth dress to as
many old women. These articles of dress are placed on the altar-tomb of
Sir Esmoun de Maltravers, and have been thence distributed from days
immemorial by the head of our house. Ever since he was twelve years old
it had been my pride to watch my handsome brother doing this deed of
noble charity, and to hear the kindly words he added with each gift.

Alas! alas! it was all different this Christmas. Even on this holy day
my brother did not approach either the altar or the house of God. Till
then Christmas had always seemed to me to be a day given us from above,
that we might see even while on earth a faint glimpse of that serenity
and peaceful love which will hereafter gild all days in heaven. Then
covetous men lay aside their greed and enemies their rancour, then warm
hearts grow warmer, and Christians feel their common brotherhood. I can
scarcely imagine any man so lost or guilty as not to experience on that
day some desire to turn back to the good once more, as not to recognise
some far-off possibility of better things. It was thoughts free and
happy such as these that had previously come into my heart in the
service of Christmas Day, and been particularly associated with the
familiar words that we all love so much. But that morning the harmonies
were all jangled: it seemed as though some evil spirit was pouring
wicked thoughts into my ear; and even while children sang "Hark the
herald angels," I thought I could hear through it all a melody which
I had learnt to loathe, the _Gagliarda_ of the "Areopagita."

Poor Constance! Though her veil was down, I could see her tears, and
knew her thoughts must be sadder even than mine: I drew her hand towards
me, and held it as I would a child's. After the service was over a new
trial awaited us. John had made no arrangement for the distribution of
the dole. The coats and dresses were all piled ready on Sir Esmoun's
tomb, and there lay the little leather pouches of money, but there was
no one to give them away. Mr. Butler looked puzzled, and approaching
us, said he feared Sir John was ill--had he made no provision for the
distribution? Pride kept back the tears which were rising fast, and
I said my brother was indeed unwell, that it would b