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Allen, James Lane, 1849-1925

"Bride of the Mistletoe"

She unlocked the door and opened it a little way, and once
more she asked her one poor question.
His answer to it came in the form of a gentle pressure against the
door, breaking down her resistance. As she applied more strength, this
was as gently overcome; and when the opening was sufficient, he walked
past her into the room.
How hushed the house! How still the world outside as the cloud wove in
darkness its mantle of light!

VI. THE WHITE DAWN

Day was breaking.
The crimson curtains of the bedroom were drawn close, but from behind
their outer edges faint flanges of light began to advance along the
wall. It was a clear light reflected from snow which had sifted in
against the window-panes, was banked on the sills outside, ridged the
yard fence, peaked the little gate-posts, and buried the shrubbery.
There was no need to look out in order to know that it had stopped
snowing, that the air was windless, and that the stars were flashing
silver-pale except one--great golden-croziered shepherd of the thick,
soft-footed, moving host.
It was Christmas morning on the effulgent Shield.
Already there was sufficient light in the room to reveal--less as
actual things than as brown shadows of the memory--a gay company of
socks and stockings hanging from the mantelpiece; sufficient to give
outline to the bulk of a man asleep on the edge of the bed; and it
exposed to view in a corner of the room farthest from the rays a woman
sitting in a straight-backed chair, a shawl thrown about her shoulders
over her night-dress.


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