"Well, you were a true prophet," said Henrietta, "and after all it does not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but still I thought Fred would have behaved better."
"You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, and Fred with his own congeners," said Beatrice; "you don't know half the phases of boy nature."
Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she expected him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that was nothing-that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father's grave. He was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear that it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her one moment's doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in all to each other at Rocksand.
It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it had passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by the natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day.
It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger-
"Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
GOD and sinners reconciled."
Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight and thankfulness for the "good tidings of great joy." Another and another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably beneath their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just within the door watching them.
"Beautiful!" said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; "your work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I don't think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?"
"She did, of course, papa," said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. "Who else could?"
"It is a very successful arrangement," said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about to find the spot for obtaining the best view. "It is an arrangement to suggest so much."
Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves and scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, i h s , were in the centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and around them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, the many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their peculiar stiff gracefulness.
"I see it now!" said she, in a low voice full of awe. "Uncle, I did not mean to make it so!"
"How?" he asked.
"It is like Good Friday!" said she, as the resemblance to the crown of thorns struck her more and more strongly.
"Well, why not, my dear?" said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in a sort of alarm. "Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for Good Friday?"
"Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy."
"Where are those verses that say-let me see-
'And still Thy Church's faith
Shall link, in all her prayer and praise,
Thy glory with Thy death.' So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right."
Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, "It is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art-or, what shall I call it?-is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the author intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else."
"There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the spirit in which a thing is done," said her father: "But have you much more to do? Those columns look very well."
"O, are you come to help us, papa?"
"I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your not coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again just at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you."
Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, "Very well, we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make her think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?"
It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows that it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was promised. He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste and execution, the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin came in, his surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which had grown up in his absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of evergreen at the east end, centring in the crown and letters; the spiral festoons round the pillars; the sprays in every niche; the tower of holly over the font-all were more beautiful, both together and singly, than he had even imagined, and he was profuse in admiration and thanks.
The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. as they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocaclass="underline" children's voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance, were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with
"As shepherds watch'd their flocks by night." And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little voices was brought on the still frosty wind-
"Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind."
Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,-how really Christmas-like-how well it suited the soft half-light, the last pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn stars that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!-and how the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta's eyes!
The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, with Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary's beautiful voice, was not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was teasing Fred all the time about his defection? The church singers came up to the Hall, and the drawing-room door was set open for the party to listen to them; grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk with them, and so passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the many little troops of young small voices outside the windows, to whom Mrs. Langford's plum buns, and Mr. Geoffrey's sixpences, were a very enjoyable part of the Christmas festivities.
CHAPTER VII.
THE double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must be so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the party, while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage by old Mr. Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with recollecting that no companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It was a sight to be remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his arm, her sweet expression of peace and resignation, making her even more lovely than when last she entered there-her face in all its early bloom of youthful beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness.