tering, he saw Mrs. Aubrey, his
sister, and his two children, at high romps together in the hall, and he
heartily joined in them.

CHAPTER VIII.

By five o'clock the little party were seated at the cheerful
dinner-table, glistening with the old family plate and that kind of
fare, at once substantial and luxurious, which befitted the occasion.
Old Mrs. Aubrey, in her simple white turban and black velvet dress,
presided with a kind of dignified cheerfulness which was delightful to
see. Kate had contrived to make herself look more lovely even than
usual, wearing a dress of dark blue satin, tastefully trimmed with
blonde, and which exquisitely comported with her beautiful complexion.
Oh that Delamere had been sitting opposite to, or beside her! The more
matured proportions of her blooming sister-in-law appeared to infinite
advantage in a rich green velvet dress, while a superb diamond glistened
with subdued lustre in her beautiful bosom. She wore no ornaments in her
dark hair, which was, as indeed might be said of Kate, "when unadorned,
adorned the most." The gray-headed old butler, (as brisk as his choicest
champagne,) and the two steady-looking old family servants, going about
their business with quiet celerity--the delicious air of antique
elegance around them--the sense of profound seclusion--of remoteness
from the exciting hubbub of the world--in every respect this was a
Christmas dinner after one's own heart! Oh the merry and dear old
Yatton! And as if there were not loveliness enough already in the room,
behold the door suddenly pushed open, as soon as the dessert is arrayed
on the table, and run up to his gay and laughing mother, her little son,
his ample snowy collar resting gracefully on his crimson velvet dress.
'Tis her hope and pride--her first-born--the little squire; but where is
his sister?--where is Agnes? 'Tis even as Charles says--she fell asleep
in the very act of being dressed, and they were obliged to put her to
bed; so Charles is alone in his glory. You may well fold your delicate
white arm around him, mamma!--

His little gold cup is nearly filled to join in the first toast: are you
all--dear little circle!--are you all ready? The worthy doctor has
poured old Mrs. Aubrey's, and young Mrs. Aubrey's, and Kate's glass full
up to the brim:--"_Our next Christmas!_" quoth he, cheerily elevating
his glass.

Yes, your next Christmas! The vigilant eye of Dr. Tatham alone perceived
a faint change