I’ll be back on January 5th. Later that night, Emily returned home, warmed her hands around a cup of tea, and set the original lantern on her windowsill—lit, as it had been meant to be. She unfolded the letter once more. Outside, snow drifted across the quiet street. Then she saw one lantern glow. Then another, and another, until the...

In the winter of his century, Charles Dickens walked a London powered by industry but running short on warmth. People moved past one another as if connection were a luxury they could no longer afford. Wealth and want lived on opposite sides of the same street, and compassion, even at Christmas time, was showing signs of strain. Dickens wrote his...