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become faint in the legs； and double up； at exciting points of the drama）； a
teeming world of fancies so suggestive and all…embracing； that； far below
it on my Christmas Tree； I see dark； dirty； real Theatres in the day…time；
adorned with these associations as with the freshest garlands of the rarest
flowers； and charming me yet。
But hark！ The Waits are playing； and they break my childish sleep！
What images do I associate with the Christmas music as I see them set
forth on the Christmas Tree？ Known before all the others； keeping far
apart from all the others； they gather round my little bed。 An angel；
speaking to a group of shepherds in a field； some travellers； with eyes
uplifted； following a star； a baby in a manger； a child in a spacious temple；
talking with grave men； a solemn figure； with a mild and beautiful face；
raising a dead girl by the hand； again； near a city gate； calling back the son
of a widow； on his bier； to life； a crowd of people looking through the
opened roof of a chamber where he sits； and letting down a sick person on
a bed； with ropes； the same； in a tempest； walking on the water to a ship；
again； on a sea…shore； teaching a great multitude； again； with a child upon
his knee； and other children round； again； restoring sight to the blind；
speech to the dumb； hearing to the deaf； health to the sick； strength to the
lame； knowledge to the ignorant； again； dying upon a Cross； watched by
armed soldiers； a thick darkness coming on； the earth beginning to shake；
and only one voice heard； 〃Forgive them； for they know not what they
do。〃
Still； on the lower and maturer branches of the Tree； Christmas
associations cluster thick。 School…books shut up； Ovid and Virgil
silenced； the Rule of Three； with its cool impertinent inquiries； long
disposed of； Terence and Plautus acted no more； in an arena of huddled
desks and forms； all chipped； and notched； and inked； cricket…bats； stumps；
and balls； left higher up； with the smell of trodden grass and the softened
noise of shouts in the evening air； the tree is still fresh； still gay。 If I no
more come home at Christmas…time； there will be boys and girls （thank
Heaven！ ） while the World lasts； and they do！ Yonder they dance and
play upon the branches of my Tree； God bless them； merrily； and my heart
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dances and plays too！
And I do come home at Christmas。 We all do； or we all should。 We
all come home； or ought to come home； for a short holidaythe longer； the
betterfrom the great boarding…school； where we are for ever working at
our arithmetical slates； to take； and give a rest。 As to going a visiting；
where can we not go； if we will； where have we not been； when we would；
starting our fancy from our Christmas Tree！
Away into the winter prospect。 There are many such upon the tree！
On； by low…lying； misty grounds； through fens and fogs； up long hills；
winding dark as caverns between thick plantations； almost shutting out the
sparkling stars； so； out on broad heights； until we stop at last； with sudden
silence； at an avenue。 The gate…bell has a deep； half…awful sound in the
frosty air； the gate swings open on its hinges； and； as we drive up to a
great house； the glancing lights grow larger in the windows； and the
opposing rows of trees seem to fall solemnly back on either side； to give
us place。 At intervals； all day； a frightened hare has shot across this
whitened turf； or the distant clatter of a herd of deer trampling the hard
frost； has； for the minute； crushed the silence too。 Their watchful eyes
beneath the fern may be shining now； if we could see them； like the icy
dewdrops on the leaves； but they are still； and all is still。 And so； the
lights growing larger； and the trees falling back before us； and closing up
again behind us； as if to forbid retreat； we come to the house。
There is probably a smell of roasted chestnuts and other good
comfortable things all the time； for we are telling Winter Stories Ghost
Stories； or more shame for usround the Christmas fire； and we have
never stirred； except to draw a little nearer to it。 But； no matter for that。
We came to the house； and it is an old house； full of great chimneys where
wood is burnt on ancient dogs upon the hearth； and grim portraits （some of
them with grim legends； too） lower distrustfully from the oaken panels of
the walls。 We are a middle…aged nobleman； and we make a generous
supper with our host and hostess and their guestsit being Christmas…time；
and the old house full of companyand then we go to bed。 Our room is a
very old room。 It is hung with tapestry。 We don't like the portrait of a
cavalier in green； over the fireplace。 There are great black beams in the
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ceiling； and there is a great black bedstead； supported at the foot by two
great black figures； who seem to have come off a couple of tombs in the
old baronial church in the park； for our particular accommodation。 But；
we are not a superstitious nobleman； and we don't mind。 Well！ we
dismiss our servant； lock the door； and sit before the fire in our dressing…
gown； musing about a great many things。 At length we go to bed。 Well！
we can't sleep。 We toss and tumble； and can't sleep。 The embers on the
hearth burn fitfully and make the room look ghostly。 We can't help
peeping out over the counterpane； at the two black figures and the
cavalierthat wicked… looking cavalierin green。 In the flickering light
they seem to advance and retire： which； though we are not by any means
a superstitious nobleman； is not agreeable。 Well！ we get nervous more
and more nervous。 We say 〃This is very foolish； but we can't stand this；
we'll pretend to be ill； and knock up somebody。〃 Well！ we are just going
to do it； when the locked door opens； and there comes in a young woman；
deadly pale； and with long fair hair； who glides to the fire； and sits down
in the chair we have left there； wringing her hands。 Then； we notice that
her clothes are wet。 Our tongue cleaves to the roof of our mouth； and we
can't speak； but； we observe her accurately。 Her clothes are wet； her long
hair is dabbled with moist mud； she is dressed in the fashion of two
hundred years ago； and she has at her girdle a bunch of rusty keys。 Well！
there she sits； and we can't even faint； we are in such a state about it。
Presently she gets up； and tries all the locks in the room with the rusty
keys； which won't fit one of them； then； she fixes her eyes on the portrait
of the cavalier in green； and says； in a low； terrible voice； 〃The stags know
it！〃 After that； she wrings her hands again； passes the bedside； and goes
out at