These evergreens likewise had their Christmas meaning and finished the
picture of the giving earth. Unlike the other things, they satisfied
no appetite, they were ministers to no passions; but with them the
Christmas of the intellect began: the human heart was to drape their
boughs with its gentle poetry; and from their ever living spires the
spiritual hope of humanity would take its flight toward the eternal.
Thus then the winter land waited for the oncoming of that strange
travelling festival of the world which has roved into it and encamped
gypsy-like from old lost countries: the festival that takes toll of
field and wood, of hoof and wing, of cup and loaf; but that, best of
all, wrings from the nature of man its reluctant tenderness for his
fellows and builds out of his lonely doubts regarding this life his
faith in a better one.
And central on this whole silent scene--the highest element in it--its
one winter-red passion flower--the motionless woman waiting outside
the house.
At last he came out upon the step.
He cast a quick glance toward the sky as though his first thought were
of what the weather was going to be. Then as he buttoned the top
button of his overcoat and pressed his bearded chin down over it to
make it more comfortable under his short neck, with his other hand he
gave a little pull at his hat--the romantic country hat; and he peeped
out from under the rustic brim at her, smiling with old gayeties and
old fondnesses.
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