After dinner Alete and Ebba went into the drawing-room, and having carefully shut the door, might have been heard going and coming, and giving orders, while the pastor entertained his guests.  Alete seemed very busy.  She called the servants—­had the position of the furniture changed—­sometimes talked loudly, and then whispered.  Some mysterious scene occupying the thoughts of Ireneus was taking place there.

Toward evening the mystery was explained.  Alete came to take the arm of the pastor in triumph, and he, M. de Vermondans, and Ireneus, went toward the room.  Drapery of many colors covered the wall, and bouquets of moss and artificial flowers, candelabras reflected from the mirrors, boughs of trees, all made the light soft as that which penetrates the forest.  On a large table was the Christmas tree, full of lights, and adorned with bows of ribbon.  The pastor had asked Alete to arrange everything as she chose, and to place in the best possible light the presents intended for his friends.  With them Alete and Ebba had placed those they intended to make, and all had been arranged most tastefully.  Of the pine branch she had made a tree, miraculously bearing silk dresses, portfolios, slippers, embroidered collars, gold ear-rings, &c.  The branches bent beneath the weight.

M. de Vermondans gathered a meerschaum mounted with silver:  Ireneus several pieces of silk worked by his cousins, and a wooden cup, very beautifully carved by an Angermanian peasant.  Exclamations were made as the different objects were detached from the mystic tree, for Alete had taken care to wrap each article with a double and triple envelope, in order to prolong the expectation of the spectators, and to enjoy their surprise.  Afterward the servants came in, and also the farmer’s boys, none of whom were forgotten, and who kissed the hands of the old priest.  The Christmas tree was stripped of its treasures, and all deserted it, as barren and useless.  Alas, for human ingratitude!

The pastor, taking advantage of a moment when none were looking, went to the solitary tree, and took from it a letter with a red seal.  Then calling his future daughter-in-law, he said, “Since when, dear Alete, have you become so careless of the good things of this world, or so negligent, as to abandon the Christmas tree, without ascertaining all that hangs from it?”

“I do not know that I can get anything from it, except a few pieces of ribbon and half-burnt lights.”

“You think so, do you?  Well, look here.”

“What?” said Alete; “a letter, with Eric’s name on it.  This is a surprise for him.  What is it?  That puzzles me.  Look, Eric—­one day I shall have a right to open your letters, but now be quick and open this yourself.”

Eric unsealed the letter; and scarcely had he read it, then casting himself at the feet of the old priest, he said—­“Ah, father, how I thank you!  Then turning to Alete, he said—­

“It is an appointment by the Bishop of Hernos and of myself as vicar of this parish.  We waited only for that to be able to marry.  Now there is no obstacle to our happiness.  We will live here with my father, near your own family.  May God grant that our hearts may not be disunited.  May God grant us new pleasures without robbing us of those of the past.  Now, when shall we be married—­tell me?”