And a lover was at hand, of good birth, good manners, and approved by her godfather.

That lover saw her inclining toward him, and omitted nothing to compliment and please her.

To be sure, that was no uphill work, for he loved her better than he had ever loved a woman in his life, which was a good deal to say, in his case.
They spent Christmas Day very happily together.

Church in the morning; then luncheon; then thick boots, a warmer shawl, and a little walk all together; for Mr.Raby took a middle course; since no positive engagement existed, he would not allow his fair guest to go about with Mr.Coventry alone, and so he compromised, even in village eyes; but, on the other hand, by stopping now and then to give an order, or exchange a word, he gave Coventry many opportunities, and that gentleman availed himself of them with his usual tact.
In the evening they sat round the great fire, and Mr.Raby mulled and spiced red wine by a family receipt, in a large silver saucepan; and they sipped the hot and generous beverage, and told stories and legends, the custom of the house on Christmas night.

Mr.Raby was an inexhaustible repertory of ghost-stories and popular legends.