Excerpt: YES, children, I will tell you the story of Aunt Milly's diamonds; and in telling about them, you must hear the tale of my own life almost, because one is so mixed up with the other that they can scarcely be separated. The speaker, an old lady, looked pleasantly at a group of grandchildren, her Christmas visitors; who, tired with many a merry game, were clustering round her and asking for the story. It was Christmas Eve, and they had been making the old hall at Denesfield Manor ring with happy voices. And now, in the dim twilight hour, they came into the drawing-room, and begged that before the gas was lighted, Grandmamma would tell them all about those diamonds. A charming group they made. The girls with their young, fair faces, and streaming curls, the boys full of life and strength and fun; yet all so loving to the silver-haired lady who delighted to see them round her at happy Christmastide. Picture them for yourselves; some, the elder girls, demurely seated, ready to listen; two little ones on footstools by Grandmamma's knees, each holding a hand tenderly imprisoned; the lads just stretched here and there upon the rug, while on their upturned faces the blaze of a Christmas fire shone and danced merrily. But listen. Grandmamma is beginning her story: