Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1875-12-11

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made solitude possible even in a tene-
ment house. Perhaps Mrs. Vanderhey
den had thought of this when she chose
her abode there.
There was something in the faded
grandeur of the old mansion that har-
monized with the lingering grace of her
own faded beauty. Its lofty walls were
wainscoted with carved oak, almost
black with time now; and any imagina-
tive person would have been likely to
| people it with the ghosts of the beauti-
full girls, whose room no doubt this was
in the old days. There, between those
windows, hung, perhaps, their great,
cleaning mirror, and into it they look
ed, all smiles, and blushes, and beauty,
when they were ready for their first ball.
Brit Mrs. Vanderheyden's two little
girls did not think of the other girls who
might have lived there once. They were
too young for that, and too hungry.
Ethel, the elder, was only ten; and shy
little Susie, beside her, scarcely seven.
They saw a sight, however, from the
window at which they stood, that inter-
ested them more than any vision of the
past would have done.
The avenue on which they lived was
in transition state. Trade had come
into it; and lodging houses had vulgar
lied it, and yet there were some of the
rich old residents who still clung to the
houses in which their fathers and moth
ers had lived and died. There was one
such directly opposite; and to look into
the parlor over the way, and see there
all the warmth and brightness and
beauty of which they themselves were
deprived, had been one of the chief en-
joyments of the little Vanderheydens
ever since they had been in the house.
They were all that Mrs. Vanderheyden
had left-these two girls. Wealth was
gone, friends were gone, father and
fathers home, husband and husbands
home-hope itself was gone; but she
was not quite alone while she had these
two for whom to struggle-to live or to
die, as Heaven would. 1t was for their
sakes that she had worked from dawn
ing to nightfall, though she had felt all
the time what seemed to her mortal
sickness stealing over her. Their break
fast and dinner had been only bread, of
which she herself had scarcely tasted;
but tomorrow would be Christmas, and
it should go hard. with her, but she
would give them better fare then. A
dozen times during the day one or the
other little voice had asked anxiously:
"Shall we surely, surely have dinner
tomorrow, because it is Christmas
day ?"
And she had answered:
Please Heaven, you surely shall.
Ny work is almost done" and then she
had stitched away more resolutely than
ever on the child's frock she was elabor,
ately embroidering. The children mean
while were feeding upon hope, and
watching a scene in the house over the
4 way, where, as they thought, all thai
any human creature could possibly hope
for had already been given. Busy prepa
rations had been made in that othel
house for Christmas. There was great
Christmas tree in one corner, all full o.
little tapers, and large, fair, gentle
looking woman had been engaged mucl
of the afternoon in arranging gifts upo1
it. Now, with the twilight, boy ant
girl had come in and were Watching tht
hghting-up of the Christmas tree.
e "It's SO good of them not to pull tn,
o curtains down." Ethel said, with sigl
y of delight. cts almost as good q
s being there-almost.
: "I do suppose that's the very grand
s est house in all New York." little Susi
t said, in tone of awe and admiration.
"Nonsense, you only think that be
+ cause you are SO little" said Ethel
n from the height of her three years NOR
r of experience. "You forget, but I cal
S remember. We had fine house our
: selves before poor papa died. Their
n are plenty of them only we're so poo
n we don't see them"
e ooh, it's good to be that little girl,
n cried Susie. "See how pretty her dres
d is, and how her hair curls and shel
g have lots of presents off that Christina
tree"
= $50 should we, if we had papa,
), Ethel answered, gravely. "Mamma
g when we get up to heaven do you thinl
:. papa will know we're his little girls 2
q "Im sure he will" Mrs. Vanderhey
e den answered; and then she rose weal
e lily. "Ifs all done," she said, as sh
j shook out the lovely little robe int
ii which she had wrought SO many patien
stitches. 81 cannot carry it home jus
e yet, l am SO tired; 1 must lie dow
II first; but you shall have good Dime
le tomorrow, my darlings."
|, The children had seen her very tire
10 before, and they did not think muc
be about it when she groped her way to
IS bed in the corner and lay down, drawin
g the scant bedclothes up over her. The
y stood at the window still and watche
ut the merry children opposite, until
IS last servant came and pulled down IL
in curtains and shut away from them IL
at Christmas tree, with all its gleamir
0, lights, and the boy and girl, who we
to dancing round it to some gay tul
e. which their mother played.