The one thing in which he himself felt that he was perhaps
open to blame, was in his passion for the sports of the field.
No one who had stood amongst the little group at the top of the long
table in Hallgrove Manor-house on this snowy Christmas morning could
have doubted that the heart of Lionel Dale was true to the very core.
He was not alone amongst his poor parishioners. His guests had
requested permission to see the two o'clock dinner-party in the
refectory. Lydia affected to be especially anxious for this privilege.
"I long to see the dear things eating their Christmas plum-pudding,"
she said, with almost girlish enthusiasm.
Mr. Dale's parishioners did ample justice to the splendid Christmas
fare provided for them.
Lydia Graham declared she had never witnessed anything that gave her
half so much pleasure as this humble gathering.
"I would give up a whole season of fashionable dinner-parties for such
a treat as this, Mr. Dale," she exclaimed, with an eloquent glance at
the rector. "What a happy life yours must be! and how privileged these
people ought to think themselves!"
"I don't know that, Miss Graham," answered Lionel Dale. "I think the
privilege is all on my side. It is the pleasure of the rich to minister
to the wants of the poor."
Lydia Graham made no reply; but her eyes expressed an admiration which
womanly reserve might have forbidden her lips to utter.
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