Now although Lady Ariel was never quite sure just how it all came about, night found her still at Pine Tree Cottage, and again at dawn she watched Lord Chesterfield at his furtive tasks. And so, eventually, swept away again and again by the warmth of Aunt Cheerful's hospitality, Jean came to linger on at the cottage in the pines, thrilled unaccountably by the unquestioning friendliness of her cheery hostess.

Each night when the mail train came in, Aunt Cheerful's lamp flashed its friendly message through the pines; each night her birdlike voice carried its invitation into the dark of the lane. And sometimes it was a weary villager, homing through the twilight, who answered her call and sometimes an astonished stranger lured into the lane by the smell of the pine and the brightness of her light. But to all the welcome was the same. Aunt Cheerful's cosmic hospitality made no distinctions, and presently Jean came to know that the fame of Pine Tree Cottage was county-wide.

And as regularly as the lamp flashed among the pines, so in mid-evening came Lord Chesterfield with his Lady's mail and her paper, his courteous queries for her Ladyship's health and his relishful exposition of the village news. Brave, kindly little hermit! Jean's heart warmed to his boyish gallantry. And presently when the first constraint had worn away, Lord Chesterfield's courtly queries from the window-sill included the health of the Lady Ariel.

Nights by the fire there was much talk, too, of the beautiful Lady of the Fireglow and Jean grew to marvel at the wealth of love steadily piling up in the heart of Aunt Cheerful for Son Robert's sometime wife. As for "Son Robert" himself, the caress in Aunt Cheerful's voice when she spoke his name, thrilled her guest indescribably. Flying mother-winged about the night's sleepy fireglow, there were eloquent tales of his boyhood daring, of school days when he had won a Harvard scholarship, of his brilliant career in the busy West, but as the days unfolded their glowing flower of biography, Jean found that, manlike, despite his untiring forethought for her comfort, Robert Loring had undervalued what his mother longed for most, his presence! that five thoughtless years had sped busily away since his last home-coming; years so long and lonely for the little cripple in Pine Tree Lane that a quick resentment flamed loyally up in Jean's awakening heart and her eyes softened in a new understanding of the many devices by which Aunt Cheerful Loring had somehow contrived to color the barren years.

"But this Christmas," Aunt Cheerful was wont to finish her eloquent monograph, "he is surely coming for he has written so much about it and oh, my dear!"—with shining eyes—"what a very wonderful Christmas I shall have indeed!"

Thus, imperceptibly, the strange and whimsical comradeship of these two women grew into something stronger, something so deep and beautiful that the Lady Ariel's face grew to mirror its imprint. And Aunt Cheerful, clinging wistfully to the companionship of this lovable, mysterious guest who had come straight into her heart from the wind and rain, deftly lured the Lady Ariel into lingering.

Came the busy fortnight before Christmas, and over the snowy ridges peeped the December sun like the round and jolly face of the Christmas Saint with his snow-beard veiling the hills and the river-valley below. And now with a merry jingle of sleigh-bells Westowe awoke to the activities of the season and Aunt Cheerful's crutch was never so busy tap! tap! tapping about with endless plans for "Son Robert's Christmas." Nights Lord Chesterfield's eyes shone with suppressed excitement as he courteously regaled his noble friends with the village news, and betimes with a wonderful new glow about her heart, the Lady Ariel set out one morning for the busy city to the South upon a tour of Christmas shopping.

There were many errands, and when at night-fall tired and happy, Jean hurried to the station laden with bundles, the mail train was already traveling leisurely up the valley. Wherefore this light-hearted Christmas shopper rode homeward over the country roads in a livery sleigh, cheeks aglow with the winter cold and eyes alive to the still white beauty of the winter night.

It was already supper-time when the sleigh turned into Pine Tree Lane and Jean, entering softly at the rear to surprise Aunt Cheerful, halted noiselessly in the kitchen. For though the room beyond was quite empty save for the humming Emperor and the busy swashbuckler in the fire, Aunt Cheerful was chatting away to an invisible guest. And these were the words Lady Ariel heard:

"A biscuit, Robert?... Certainly. Oh, I am so sorry Lady Ariel missed her train. She has grown so fond of my biscuit.... And here, my dear boy, is your favorite jam.... Robert," she said wistfully, "I do so wish you could grow to love my beautiful Lady Ariel. Each day she grows more lovely. She is so quick and sweet and tireless, so ever-mindful of my comfort and my poor lame foot.... And do you know, Robert, I can not help thinking that with her wonderful gray eyes and the shining masses of her dark hair, she must be very like my Lady in the Fire.... To be sure, Robert, you are right as always.... It is true that I have never seen the face in the fireglow but I would so like that daughter of my dreams to be like my dear, dear Lady Ariel.... No! No! Robert, I do not know who she is.... I will not ask her that.... Surely she will tell me in her own good time if she wishes me to know. And, besides, has she not asked me to trust her?... And Robert, it is so very odd. Though she has the white and beautiful hands of a princess with never a mark of toil upon them, yet she has scrubbed and swept and ironed and baked for me as busily as a farmer's daughter. She is so quick to learn, so gentle and tactful—Oh, Robert!"—her voice shook with a little sob—"I'm altogether a very foolish old woman but I've grown to love her so that I can not let her go out of my life as swiftly and strangely as she came into it. If only you would come and help me keep her—"

But the Lady Ariel was gone, out into the shadows of the pines, the hot tears raining down her face.

And late that night a telegram went singing over the wires to Denver, a telegram having to do with a flame-colored satin and a case of jewels.