"For if he come not by the road, and come not by the hill,
And come not by the far seaway--"

She wished that she was certain that she could add that last part of the
line, "_Yet come he surely will!_" Just then, to have one strong true
face bending towards hers in the firelight, with a devotion all for her,
seemed worth a lifetime of public plaudits, and having one's name handed
down to posterity on monoliths and statues.

"For if he come not by the road, and come not by the hill,
And come not by the far seaway--"

"Yes, it certainly would be lonesome," she decided. She would miss the
best that earth holds for a home-loving, hero-worshipping woman.




CHAPTER VIII

CHRISTMAS DAY AT EUGENIA'S


"Although this is only the twenty-fourth of December, my Christmas has
already begun," wrote Mary in her diary next day; "for this morning when
I looked out of the window everything was white with snow. It has been
so long since I have seen such a sight, all the roofs and chimney tops
a-glisten, that I could hardly keep away from the window long enough to
dress.