n their long, narrow setting and dreamy look,
expressing centuries of tranquil contemplation.

But the dinner passed off very pleasantly, more so than family festivals
usually pass. After it the lovers went into private session to consider
whether they should declare their new relationship during the evening,
or wait until Julius could have a private audience with the squire.
Sophia was inclined to the first course, because of the presence of the
rector. She felt that his blessing on her betrothal would add a
religious grace to the event, but Julius was averse to speak on any
matter so private to himself before Harry Sandal. He felt that he could
neither endure his congratulations nor his dissent; that, in fact, he
did not want his opinion on the matter at all. Besides, he had
determined to have but one discussion of the affair, and that must
include all pertaining to Sophia's rights and her personal fortune.

While they were deciding this momentous question, the rector and
Charlotte were singing over the carols for the Christmas service; the
squire was smoking and listening; and Harry was talking in a low voice
to his mother. But after the rector had gone, it became very difficult
to avoid a feeling of _ennui_ and restraint, although it was Christmas
Eve. Mrs. Sandal soon went into the housekeeper's room to assist in the
preparation of the Yule hampers for the families of the men who worked
on the estate. Sandal fell into a musing fit, and soon appeared to be
dozing; although Charlotte saw that he occasionally opened his eyes, and
looked at the whispering lovers, or else shot her a glance full of
sympathetic intelligence.

Music has many according charms, and Charlotte tried it, but with small
success. Julius and Sophia had a song in their own hearts, and this
night they knew no other. Harry loved his sister very dearly, but he was
not inclined to "carolling;" and the repression and constraint were soon
evident through all the conventional efforts to be "merry." It was the
squire who finally hit upon the circumstance which tided over the
evening, and sent every one to bed in a ripple of laughter. For, when
the piano was closed, he opened his eyes, and said, "Sophia, your mother
tells me she has had a very nice Christmas present from the little maid
you took such a liking to,--little Agnes Bulteel. It is a carriage hap
made of sheepskins white as the snow, and from some new breed of sheep
surely; for the wool is longe