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Updated: October 28, 2025
Was it a voice deep in his own soul that was longing to escape from evil? or was it a harmony far away in the sky, that whispered of peace at last? That message from heaven is clearest where the need is greatest. Mr. Hargrove's home was almost a palace, but its stately rooms were desolate on Christmas-eve. He wandered restlessly through their magnificence.
And winter, which modifies the note of such trees as shed their leaves, does not destroy its individuality. On a cold and starry Christmas-eve within living memory a man was passing up a lane towards Mellstock Cross in the darkness of a plantation that whispered thus distinctively to his intelligence.
"Again at Christmas did we weave The holly round the Christmas hearth; The silent snow possess'd the earth, And calmly fell our Christmas-eve: "The yule-log sparkled keen with frost, No wing of wind the region swept, But over all things brooding slept The quiet sense of something lost.
It was Christmas-Eve, in the year 1815, and the roof was crowded with such piles of turkeys, geese, hares, and pheasants, that he always said he had preserved an affection for them throughout his life. Some few years after his arrival in London, Mr.
Howbeit, it was his duty to pass Christmas-eve with his venerable mother. He plighted Gotz and me as he had promised us, and to his life's end he was ever a kind and honored friend and patron to us and to our children. Ann was ever his favorite, and ere he quitted Nuremberg, he bestowed on her a dowry such as few indeed of our richest nobles could give with their daughters.
Miss Alice Keane called at Thankful Rest on her pony, one morning, to ask Tom and Lucy to a Christmas-eve gathering. The invitation was curtly declined by Miss Hepsy, and she was dismissed with such scant courtesy that she departed very indignant indeed. "What a woman that is at Thankful Rest," she said to Miss Goldthwaite when she called at the parsonage.
Christmas-eve, which we spent at the lodge with our parents and the Chaplain and my dear godfather, uncle Christian Pfinzing, was a right glorious festival, bringing gladness to our souls; yet was it to end with the first peril that befell our love's young joy.
The last time I saw Wenzel and Metski was in the trenches at Minsk, where they had a tough debate regarding our adventure in the forest: the woodman insisting it was the Finn's spell that brought the wolves in such unheard-of numbers, and the peasant maintaining that it was a judgment on our desecration of Christmas-eve.
I walk from six till eight or nine, breakfast at ten, and dine at three; in the afternoon it is generally practicable to saunter again, now the weather is warmer. I sleep from twelve till two. On Christmas-eve it was so warm that I lay in bed with the window wide open, and the stars blazing in. Such stars! they are much brighter than our moon.
I CHRISTMAS-EVE came, and a party that Boldwood was to give in the evening was the great subject of talk in Weatherbury. It was not that the rarity of Christmas parties in the parish made this one a wonder, but that Boldwood should be the giver.
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