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Guy stood holding up his light； and looking fixedly at it for a
considerable time。 Strange thoughts passed through his mind as the
pictured eyes seemed to gaze piercingly down into his own。 When he
turned away； he muttered aloud；
'He； too； would have said〃Is thy servant a dog； that he should do
this？〃'
It seemed to him as if he had once been in a happier； better world；
with the future dawning brightly on him； but as if that once yielding
to the passions inherited from that wretched man； had brought on him
the doom of misery。 He had opened the door to the powers of evil； and
must bear the penalty。
These feelings might partly arise from its having been only now that；
had all been well； he could have been with Amabel； so that it seemed as
if he had never hitherto appreciated the loss。 He had at first
comforted himself by thinking it was better to be without her than to
cause her distress； but now he found how hard it was to miss herhis
bright angel。 Darkness was closing on him； a tedious； aimless life
spread out before him； a despair of doing good haunted him； and with it
a sense of something like the presence of an evil spirit； triumphing in
his having once put himself within its grasp。
It was well for Guy that he was naturally active； and had acquired
power over his own mind。 He would not allow himself to brood over
these thoughts by day； and in the evening he busied himself as much as
possible with his studies； or in going over with Markham matters that
would be useful to him to know when he came to the management of his
property。 Yet still these thoughts would thicken on him； in spite of
himself； every evening when he sat alone in the library。
The late hours of Christmas Eve was the time when he had most to
suffer。 The day had been gloomy and snowy； and he had spent it almost
entirely in solitude； with no companion or diversion to restore the
tone of his mind； when he had tried it with hard study。 He tried to
read； but it would not do； and he was reduced to sit looking at the
fire； recalling this time last year； when he had been cutting holly；
helping the sisters to deck the house； and in the evening enjoying a
merry Christmas party； full of blitheness and glee； where there were；
of course； special recollections of Amabel。
As usual； he dwelt on the contrast； mused on the estrangement of Mrs。
Edmonstone； and tormented himself about Charles's silence； till he fell
into the more melancholy train of thought of the destiny of his race。
Far better for him to bear all alone than to bring on Amy grief and
horror； such as had fallen on his own mother； but it was much to bear
that loneliness and desolation for a lifetime。 The brow was
contracted； and the lip drawn into a resolute expression of keeping
down suffering； like that of a man enduring acute bodily pain； as Guy
was not yielding； he was telling himselftelling the tempter； who
would have made him give up the strugglethat it was only for a life；
and that it was shame and ingratitude to be faint…hearted； on the very
night when he ought to be rejoicing that One had come to ruin the power
of the foe； and set him free。 But where was his rejoicing？ Was he
cheered；was he comforted？ Was not the lone； blank despondency that
had settled on him more heavily than ever； a token that he was shut out
from all that was good；nay； that in former years there had been no
true joy in him； only enjoyment of temporal pleasure？ Had his best
days of happiness been； then； nothing but hollowness and self…
deception？
At that moment the sound of a Christmas carol came faintly on his ear。
It was one of those tunes which； when the village choir were the only
musicians he knew； he had thought； unrivalled； and now； even to his
tutored； delicate ear； softened as it was by distance； and endeared by
association； it was full of refreshing； soothing harmony。 He undrew
the curtain； opened the shutter； and looked into the court； where he
saw some figures standing。 As soon as the light shone from the window；
the carol was resumed； and the familiar tones were louder and harsher；
but he loved them； with all their rudeness and dissonance； and throwing
up the window； called the singers by name； asking why they stood out in
the snow； instead of coming into the hall； as usual。
The oldest of the set came to the window to answer；so old a man that
his voice was cracked； and his performance did more harm than good in
the psalms at church。
'You see； Sir Guy；' said he； 'there was some of us thought you might
not like to have us coming and singing like old times； 'cause 'tis not
all as it used to be here with you。 Yet we didn't like not to come at
all； when you had been away so long； so we settled just to begin； and
see whether you took any notice。'
'Thank you。 It was a very kind thought； James；' said Guy； touched by
the rough delicacy of feeling manifested by these poor men； 'I had
rather hear the carols than anything。 Come to the front door； I'll let
you in。'
'Thank you； sir；' with a most grateful touch of the hat； and Guy
hastened to set things in order； preferring the carols to everything at
that moment； even though disabused of his pristine admiration for James
Robinson's fiddle； and for Harry Ray's grand shake。 A long space was
spent in listening； and a still longer in the endeavour to show what
Mr。 Ashford meant by suggesting some improvements which they were
regarding with dislike and suspicion； till they found Sir Guy was of
the same mind。 In fact； when he had sung a verse or two to illustrate
his meaning； the opinion of the choir was； that； with equal advantages；
Sir Guy might sing quite as well as Harry Ray。
It was the first time he had heard his own voice； except at church；
since the earlier days of St。 Mildred's； but as he went up the long
stairs and galleries to bed； he found himself still singing。 It was；
Who lives forlorn；
On God's own word doth rest；
His path is bright
With heavenly light；
His lot among the blest。
He wondered； and remembered finding music for it with Amy's help。 He
sighed heavily； but the anguish of feeling； the sense of being in the
power of evil； had insensibly left him； and though sad and oppressed；
the unchangeable joy and hope of Christmas were shedding a beam on him。
They were not gone when he awoke； and rose to a solitary breakfast
without one Christmas greeting。 The light of the other life was
beginning to shine out； and make him see how to do and to bear； with
that hope before him。 The hope was becoming less vague； the
resolution； though not more firm； yet less desponding； that he would go
on to grapple with temptation； and work steadfastly； and with that hope
before him； he now felt that even a lifetime without Amy would be
endurable。
The power of rejoicing came more fully at church； and the service
entered into his soul as it never had done before。 It had never been
such happiness； though repentance and mournful feelings were ever
present with him； nor was his 'Verena' absent from his mind。 He walked
about between the services； saw the poor people dining in their holly…
decked houses； exchanging Christmas wishes with them； and gave his old；
beautiful； bright smile as he received demonstrations of their
attachment； or beheld their enjoyment。 He went home in the dark；
allowed Mrs。 Drew to have her own way； and serve him and Bustle with a
dinner sufficient for a dozen people； and was shut up for the solitary
Christmas evening which he had so much dreaded； and which would have
been esteemed a misfortune even by those who had no sad thoughts to
occupy them。
Yet when the clock struck eleven he was surprised； and owned that it
had been more than not being unhappy。 The dark fiends of remorse and
despair had not once assaulted him； yet it had not been by force of
employment that they had been averted。 He had read and written a
little； but very little； and the time had chiefly been spent in a sort
of day…dream； though not of a return to Hollywell； nor of what
Redclyffe might be with Amy。 It had been of a darkened and lonely
course； yet； in another sense； neither dark nor lonely； of a cheerless
home and round of duties； with a true home beyond； and still it had
been a happy； refreshing dream； and he began the next morning with the
fresh brightened spirit of a man who felt that such an evening was sent
him to reinvigorate his energies； and fit him for the immediate duties
that lay before him。
On the breakfast…table was what he had not seen for a long timea
letter directed to him。 It was from Mr。 Ross； in answer to his
question about Coombe Prior； entering readily into the subject； and
advising him to write to the Bishop； altogether with a tone of frie