Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 1/A merry Christmas
A MERRY CHRISTMAS.
A beetle came out of its hiding-place and looked at him. A spider crawled up his leg and examined it; but he did not move. He sat alone in his lodging, a dark, sombre man. In the room beneath there were sounds of merriment, and he had caught, as he mounted the stairs, the flutter of dresses in the hall; and a murmur of children’s voices and laughter had reached him; so he shut the door close that he might hear nothing.
On the table stood a tray with an isolated cup and saucer and a teapot, and a little kettle on the hob kept bursting into wheezy snatches of song to remind him that it was there waiting. But the dark man’s head leaned on his hands, his hands on his knees, and his great black shadow darkened the wall behind. The little spirits that had been hurrying to and fro amongst the red coals came out and looked at him, but he never stirred. They perched upon his chair and upon his knee; they gathered in solemn conclave on the hearth-rug.
“There was a Christmas fire not so long ago,” began a little spirit, nodding solemnly at the kettle, “very different from this. We were there, for we are the spirits of the Christmas fires. How it leaped and crackled in the grate, and sent out a jolly red-hot glow all round the room! How it shone out on wreaths of evergreens, and its frolicking lights kissed the red berries on the walls! And little feet daintily shod came in upon the oak floor; bright faces laughed back at the jolly old fire, and there was sweet music and dancing and merriment. He was there, and he had singled out his partner from amongst the merry ones. Close at her side he kept, through the dance, the song, and the game, and though her pretty head was bent a little, and her merriment quieter than the rest, she seemed to like it too. There was a world of happiness, half fearful half trusting, in her young face, as beautiful as it was gentle.
“But when the music was heard no longer, and the dainty shoes had ceased to dance upon the oak floor; when the jolly fire had sunk a little lower—nothing to be compared with that bit of rubbish though—he led his partner back from the Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/554 Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/555