"Poor man! his hands are so cold he can't get his latch-key in. Is that you, uncle?" she added, running to admit him; for Jane was slow, and the night as bitter as it was brilliant.
A voice answered "Yes," and as the door swung open in walked,—not Dr. Alec, but Charlie, who immediately took one of the hall chairs, and sat there with his hat on, rubbing his gloveless hands, and blinking as if the light dazzled him, as he said in a rapid, abrupt sort of tone,—
"I told you I'd come—left the fellows keeping it up gloriously—going to see the old year out, you know. But I promised—never break my word—and here I am. Angel in blue, did you slay your thousands?"
"Hush! the waiters are still about: come to the study fire and warm yourself; you must be frozen," said Rose, going before to roll up the easy-chair.
"Not at all—never warmer—looks very comfortable, though. Where's uncle?" asked Charlie, following with his hat still on, his hands in his pockets, and his eye fixed steadily on the bright head in front of him.
"Aunt Myra sent for him, and I was waiting up to see how she was," answered Rose, busily mending the fire.
Charlie laughed, and sat down upon a corner of the library table. "Poor old soul! what a pity she doesn't die before he is quite worn out. A little too
