Christmas Eve was particularly frosty and bright.

The sun poured through Sabine's windows high up when she woke, but her heart was heavy as lead.
She had not had a single word alone with Henry the night before, and knew the dreaded _tete-a-tete_ must come.

She did not set herself to tell him who her husband was on this particular morning--about that she must be guided by events--but she could not make barriers between them, and must allow him to come to her sitting-room.

He did, about half-past ten o'clock, his face full of radiance and love.

She had always steadfastly refused to take any presents from him, but he had had the most beautiful flowers sent from Paris for her, and they had just arrived.