"And the symbolism of this stunning make-up?" queried Ralph after a
while, lazily admiring.
The girl's eyes flashed.
"To-night, if you please," she said, "I am the spirit of the
old-fashioned Christmas who dwells in the holly heart of the evergreen
wood. A _country_ Christmas, ruddy-cheeked and cheerful and rugged like
the winter holly--simple and old-fashioned and hallowed with memories
like this bright soft crimson gown!"
Well, she had been a queer, fanciful youngster too, Doctor Ralph
remembered, always passionately aquiver with a wild sylvan poetry and
over-fond of book-lore like her father. Mischievously glancing at a
spray of mistletoe above the girl's dark head, he stepped forward with
the careless gallantry that had won him many a kindly glance from pretty
eyes and was strangely to fail him now. For at the look in Madge's calm
eyes, he drew back, stammering.
"I--I beg your pardon!" said Doctor Ralph.
Later as he stood thoughtfully by his bedroom window, staring queerly at
the wind-beaten elms, he found himself repeating Madge Hildreth's words.
"Ruddy-cheeked and rugged and cheerful!"--indeed--this unforgettable
Christmas eve. Yes--she was right. Had he not often heard his father say
that the Christmas season epitomized all the rugged sympathy and
heartiness and health of the country year! To-night the blazing
Yule-log, his mother's face--how white her hair was growing, thought
Doctor Ralph with a sudden tightening of his throat--all of these
memories had strummed forgotten and finer chords.
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