The San Francisco call., 1896-12-25

grandpapa. It's what mother and me
have agreed to pray for, so that we may
have white Christmas all over the
world, as we'll as at Moorsholme."
/ Have we got it at Moorsholme r. asked
the Squire, and choked little at the
thought.
However, he came to the Christmas
tree that night and was quieter and gen.
tier than was his won't. and spoke once to
Eleanor of his own accord, in such an al
tered voice that size was startled and
thought, like Aunt Maria, that he must
be ill; and when the presents were all
given and the lights out Molly came to
him to say goodnight, and said as she
clasped him tightly round the neck:
Haven't we had nice evening, grand
| papa? Don't you think the White Christ
mas is coming very quick?'
| He tried TO answer, but at this moment
his eye met Eeanor's and the words upon
his lips died away. There was question
| in her face and what seemed to him an
unspoken reproach. He kissed the little
| girl, put her down and turned hurriedly
away; but before he reached the d or CT
the room he had come to a new resolve.
Eleanor" he said, over his shoulder, in
strangely hoarse and unnatural tone.
Eleanor, come here.
| She started, and her face twitched, and
she moved forward silently. He took her
by the hand and led her away to his
study. And those who saw the action
gasped and stared, because it was the first
sign of real kindness that the Squire had
shown his daughter since she fed from
his house to marry Lancelot Hervey.
Eleanor accompanied him with feeling
OF one in a dream. But by the time she
| faced him in the study she was white as
death. She wrenched her hand away and
spoke sharply. almost wildly.
There is something wrongr' she cried
out You would not be so kind if you
had not bad news for me. What is it
What is it, father? Is-my husband
dead2"
"God help me- fear he is. groaned the
Squire, hurrying away from her.
why do you say God help me'P Why
do you fear that he is dead2"
Because, Eleanor, my dear" and
Mr.. Carteret came toward her again and
took her by both hands-'sl am to blame
to blame, perhaps, for his death"
"Father''
Forgive me if you can, my child.
little thought to have to ask your forgive
ness. But what can do? Your own little
daughter, with her words of love ard for
giveness and charity"
And then the Squire broke down. He
scarcely knew what happened, until be
| found himself in the armchair, with his
hands before his face, and Eleanor kneel-
ing beside him-just as she used TO kneel
in her girlish days, with one arm round
| his neck, and the other resting upon his
| knee.
"Father, don't grieve in that wayl Tell
me the worst; can bear it. Is Lancelot
dead ?'
II fear so, Eleanor"
'But why do you say you fear7 Do you
not know?"
"Eleanor-he was living yesterday"
Living yesterday p she echoed. "How
do you know that?'
my child. he came here. and
refused to let him see you. l thought it
was for the best. Forgive me if you cam
| There was pause. And then she said,
"Oh, father!" in tone OF such agony
that the Squire involuntarily WINGED.
But he did not shrink from the task he
had set himself.
He came here last night" said Mr..
Carteret. II saw him cross the avenue
and went out to look"
"Ah 1 saw him, too" breathed
Eleanor, with her hand on her heart.
M al hos do ho
there-he pleaded with me for YOU.
Eleanor. He said he wished to see you, to
explain the past to you, to ask your for.
giveness. He told me that ] had been
cruel to you, more cruel than he had ever
been. l never meant to be cruel to you,
Eleanor; thought l was only just"
ooh, father, never mind that; only tell
me what became of Lancelot-my Lance
lot"
All the woman's heart was in that cry.
But before the Squire could answer an
interruption came, and in most unex-
pected way.
1t was the rule of the house that no one
entered the Squire's study without pre-
vious announcement, but on this occa-
sion a visitor who had but a short
time before entered the house walked
straight into the room with the look of
one who meant to have his way. 1t was
the village doctor, and as soon as he ap-
peared Mr.. Carteret started from his
chair with the conviction that in some
way or another the hour of his doom had
come.
II have an important communication to
you, Mr.. Carteret." he said, land fear it