Life and Adventures of Santa Claus & Other Christmas Novels. Люси Мод Монтгомери

its Christmas angel at the top. And nothing in fairy-doll shape that Rollo and Maia had ever seen was so beautiful as these angels with their gleaming wings and sweet, joyous loving faces. I think, when they had a little recovered from their first astonishment, that the beauty of the tree-angels was what struck them most.

      'Yes,' said a voice beside them, in answer to their unspoken thought; 'yes, each tree has always its angel. Not always to be seen in its true beauty—sometimes you might think it only a poor, coarsely-painted little doll. But the angel is there all the same. Though it is only in Santa Claus' own garden that they are to be seen to perfection.'

      'Are we in Santa Claus' garden now, dear godmother?' asked Maia softly.

      'Yes, dears. He is a very old friend of mine—one of my oldest friends, I may say. And he allowed me to show you this sight. No other children have ever been so favoured. By this time to-morrow night—long before then, indeed—these thousands of trees will be scattered far and wide, and round each will be a group of the happy little faces my old friend loves so well.'

      'But, godmother,' said Maia practically, 'won't the tapers be burning down? Isn't it a pity to keep them lighted just for us? And, oh, dear me! however can Santa Claus get them packed and sent off in time? I hope he hasn't kept them too late to please us?'

      Godmother smiled.

      'Don't trouble your little head about that,' she said. 'But come, have you no curiosity to know which is your own Christmas-tree? Among all these innumerable ones, is there not one for you too?'

      Maia and Rollo looked up in godmother's eyes—they were smiling, but something in their expression they could not quite understand. Suddenly a kind of darkness fell over everything—darkness almost complete in comparison with the intense light of the million tapers that had gleamed but an instant before—though gradually, as their eyes grew used to it, there gleamed out the same soft faint light as of veiled moonbeams, that they had remarked before.

      'You can see now,' said godmother. 'Go straight on—quite straight through the trees'—for they were still in the midst of the forest—'till you come to what is waiting for you. But first kiss me, my darlings—a long kiss, for it is good-bye—and kiss, too, your little friends, Waldo and Silva, for in this world one may hope, but one can never be as sure as one would fain be, that good-byes are not for long.'

      Too overawed by her tone to burst into tears, as they were yet ready to do, the children threw themselves into each other's arms.

      'We must see each other again, we must; oh, godmother, say we shall!' cried all the four voices. And godmother, as she held them all together in her arms seemed to whisper—

      'I hope it. Yes, I hope and think you will.' And then, almost without having felt that Waldo and Silva were gently but irresistibly drawn from them, Rollo and Maia found themselves again alone, hand-in-hand in the midst of the forest, as they had so often stood before. Without giving themselves time to realise that they had said good-bye to their dear little friends, off they set, as godmother had told them, running straight on through the trees, where it almost seemed by the clear though soft light that a little path opened before them as they went. Till, suddenly, for a moment the light seemed to fade and disappear, leaving them almost in darkness, which again was as unexpectedly dispersed by a wonderful brilliance, spreading and increasing, so that at first they were too dazzled to distinguish whence it came. But not for long.

      'See, Rollo,' cried Maia; 'see, there is our Christmas tree.'

       'See, Rollo,' cried Maia; 'see, there is our Christmas tree.'

      And there it was—the most beautiful they had yet seen—all radiant with light and glistening with every pretty present child-heart could desire.

      'We are only to look at it, you know,' said Maia; 'it has to be packed up and sent us, of course, like the others. But,' she stopped short, 'who is that, Rollo,' she went on, 'standing just by the tree? Can it be Santa Claus himself come to see if it is all right?'

      'Santa Claus,' exclaimed a well-known voice, 'Santa Claus, indeed! Is that your new name for me, my Maia?'

      Then came a cry of joy—a cry from two little loving hearts—a cry which rang merry echoes through the forest, and at which, though it woke up lots of little birds snugly hidden away in the warmest corners they could find, no one thought of grumbling, except, I think, an old owl, who greatly objected to any disturbance of his nightly promenades and meditations.

      'Papa, papa, dear papa!' was the cry. 'Papa, you have come back to us. That was what godmother meant,' they said together. And their father, well pleased, held them in his arms as if he would never again let them go.

      'So you have learnt to know what godmother means—that is well,' he said. 'But kiss me once more only, just now, my darlings, and then you must go home and sleep till the morning. And keep it a secret that you have seen me to-night.'

      He kissed them again, and before their soft childish lips had left his face, a strange dreamy feeling overpowered them. Neither Rollo nor Maia knew or thought anything more of where they were or how they had come there for many hours.

      And then they were awakened—Rollo first, then Maia—by the sound of Nanni's delighted voice at their bedside.

      'Wake up, wake up,' she said, 'for the most beautiful surprise has come to you for this happy Christmas Eve.'

      And even without her telling them, they knew what it was—they knew who was waiting for them downstairs, nor could all their awe of Lady Venelda prevent them rushing at their father and hugging him till he was nearly choked. But Lady Venelda, I must confess, was too happy herself to see her kinsman again to be at all vexed with them. And her pleasure, as well as that of the kind old doctor, was increased by the thanks they received for all their care of the children, whom their father declared he had never seen so bright or blooming.

      And, a few days afterwards, they went back with him to their own happy home; and what then?—did they ever see godmother and Waldo and Silva again? I can only answer, like godmother herself, 'I hope so; yes, I hope so, and think so.' But as to how or where—ah, that I cannot say!

       THE END.

The Little City of Hope (F. Marion Crawford)

       Table of Contents

       I. HOW JOHN HENRY OVERHOLT SAT ON PANDORA'S BOX

       II. HOW A MAN AND A BOY FOUNDED THE LITTLE CITY OF HOPE

       III. HOW THEY MADE BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW

       IV. HOW THERE WAS A FAMINE IN THE CITY

       V. HOW THE CITY WAS BESIEGED AND THE LID OF PANDORA'S BOX CAME OFF

       VI. HOW A SMALL BOY DID A BIG THING AND NAILED DOWN THE LID OF THE BOX

       VII. HOW A LITTLE WOMAN DID A GREAT DEED TO SAVE THE CITY

       VIII. HOW THE WHEELS WENT ROUND AT LAST

       IX. HOW THE KING OF HEARTS MADE A FEAST IN THE CITY OF HOPE