Sunrise on Christmas morning found all the family of Mondreer assembled in the drawing room, which had been already restored to order by the servants, and where no vestige of the previous night’s festivity remained, except the beautiful evergreen decorations.

“Who are for church this morning?” inquired Mr. Force, looking around upon his assembled household.

“I think we all are, except, perhaps, Odalite, who may naturally shrink from the ordeal of appearing there so soon,” replied Mrs. Force, in a tone so very subdued that it was scarcely redeemed from being that breach of good breeding, a whisper in company.

But Odalite, who stood next to her mother, heard the words, and replied:

“I must not shrink from going to church, mamma. If people choose to stare at me, to see how I bear what they suppose to be a heavy disappointment and a deep mortification, they will do so from a kindly interest, I am sure, and they will be pleased to find that, though I may be ‘perplexed,’ I am ‘not in despair.’ Besides, mamma, the longer I stay away from church, the more I shall be stared at when I go.”

“You are right, my dear,” said Mr. Force, who immediately went out to give orders that all the carriages in the stables—that is to say, the family coach, the break and the buggy—should be got ready and brought around to take the family to All Faith Church.

There were other duties to be done before they broke their fast. On this day, the servants, not only of the house, but of the plantation, were all called in to family prayers.

The devotions were led by Mr. Force, assisted by Le.

When they were concluded, Christmas presents were distributed by the children of the family to all the negroes present, and sent by them to all those who, from old age, infancy or illness, were unable to attend the gathering.

When all the plantation servants had retired, with gratitude and gladness, the family went in to breakfast, where they enjoyed a merry morning meal.

As soon as it was over, they retired to their chambers to get ready for church.

And there each one, in his or her sanctuary, found some token of the presence of Santa Claus to be first discovered and enjoyed in secret. All were more or less valuable and attractive, but among so many presents, in so large a family, but few may be noticed.

Mr. Force found a warm, crimson, cashmere dressing gown, the united gift of his children; an embroidered silk smoking cap, from his wife; a pair of beaded slippers, from Miss Meeke, and a Turkish chibouk and a can of Turkish tobacco, brought all the way from beyond seas and kept for this day, by Le.

Mrs. Force found a sealskin dolman—one of the first ever made in this country—with muff and turban to match, from her husband; a satin patchwork quilt, which had been the secret work of a year, from her children; an embroidered hand screen, from Miss Meeke, and an elegant ivory fan, brought from Canton, by Le.

Odalite received a “handy” edition of Shakespeare, in twelve small volumes, bound in white vellum and silver and inclosed in a white morocco case, with silver clasps, from her father; a small Bible, prayer book and hymn book, bound in white velvet, with silver clasps and inclosed in a hand case of white morocco, for church service, from her mother; a very handsome and completely fitted workbox, brought all the way from Canton, from Le.

Le himself received a very princely gift from his uncle, namely, a fine, young horse of famous stock, with a handsome saddle and bridle, from his aunt. These gifts were not exactly found in his chamber, only the letter conferring them on his dressing table. A box of articles made by Odalite during the three years of his absence—namely, six dozen white lambs’ wool socks, knit by her own fingers, and each pair warranted to outlast any dozen pairs of machine-made hose; six ample zephyr wool scarfs, to be used—if allowed—during the deck watches of the winter nights at sea; six dozen pairs of lambs’ wool gloves, six dozen pocket handkerchiefs, with his name worked in the corners with the dark hair of her head. All these, for their intrinsic usefulness, would have been very valuable; but for the love and thought worked into them by the dear fingers of her whom he loved, and during the longs years of his absence, this box of treasures was invaluable to Le. The wealth of the Rothschilds could not have bought it from him. Each precious item, as he turned it about in his hands, and kissed it again and again, was full of her magnetism.

He put on a pair of the socks, because he loved to feel them next him. He put one of the handkerchiefs in his bosom, next his heart, for the same reason. But it would take up too much time and space to tell of all the Christmas offerings of that happy day.

The children had passed the age of dolls and dolls’ furniture, but they received beautiful dressing cases, with boxes and writing desks, all fitted up and exactly alike, except that brunette Wynnette’s were all lined with crimson velvet or satin, and blond Elva’s with blue; and they received books and trinkets suitable to their years.

Miss Meeke received a pair of gold bracelets from her pupils and a black silk dress from their parents.

Even the transient guest, Mrs. Anglesea, received from Mr. and Mrs. Force a handsome set of coral and gold jewelry that exactly suited her style and taste.

So no one was overlooked; and, when the family reassembled in the drawing room before starting for church, there ensued a gay confusion, a mirthful strife, in the mutual offering and deprecating acknowledgments. But at last they entered the carriages and drove away to All Faith.

Mr. and Mrs. Force, Odalite and Mrs. Anglesea rode in the family coach, driven by Jake; Miss Meeke and her two pupils in the buggy, driven by Wynnette, who was already a famous “whip.”

The household servants rode in the break.

Le, mounted on the young horse given him by his uncle, escorted the whole party, and made himself very useful in opening gates or taking down bars for the caravan.

They all reached the church in good time. The party entered their pews without feeling any annoyance. If they were stared at, they did not know it.

The Christmas service was always a grand jubilee, deeply interesting, highly exalting, and Dr. Peters’ sermon was sure to be good, cheerful and appropriate.

After the benediction, when the congregation began to disperse, the usual neighborly greetings took place in the yard.

Friends came up to wish merry Christmas and happy New Year to the Forces, and to receive the like courtesies from them. Happily, every one had the good taste to ignore the unseemly events of the previous Tuesday.

And the Force family left the churchyard more at ease than they had entered it.

The journey home was, therefore, very pleasant.

The subsequent Christmas dinner was a festival, and the dessert was prolonged with cracking nuts, making “philopena” bargains, opening sugar kisses and exchanging “verses.”

It was not until after dinner that Le got a chance to speak to Odalite.

“Will you come out for a walk with me? It is not cold,” he whispered, as they all left the dining room.

“Yes,” she answered; “and we will go now, or it will be too late.”

And she took down her brown beaver coat and poke bonnet that always hung in the hall ready for common use, and began to put them on.

Le took his overcoat and cap from the same rack, and speedily incased himself. Their gloves were in the pockets of their coats, and so they were soon ready, and in two minutes opened the hall door and left the house.

It was a fine winter twilight. The sun had just set, and the western hemisphere was all aflame with the afterglow. The moon had just risen from behind the deep blue waters of the bay, and was shining broad and full from a rosy gray sky. Though the woods were bare, and the earth was brown with winter, the scene was pleasant in its soft, subdued color and veiled brightness.