Stuart stood by the fire alone, heedless that the embers were slowly dying, heedless of the dusk that filled the room, heedless of all save his burden of misery. He was too weak to grapple with his sorrow--too prostrate, from the freshness and poignancy of his grief, to overcome it. At last he roused himself; he had to act, not think. He raised his head, looked round in a dazed, troubled way, and, with a weary step, went slowly from the room. As the sound of his footsteps died away, the door of the inner room was opened and a man approached the fire--a man from whose face all joy and happiness had fled, in whose dark eyes a world of speechless agony glowed, round whose mouth dwelt the desolation of hopelessness. He stood erect for an instant, then, with a deep groan, buried his face in his hands and sunk into a chair. It was Margery’s husband--Nugent, Earl of Court. CHAPTER XXVIII. Blustering March had come round, and gossip had worn to a thread the story of Lady Court’s romantic birth. It had seized on the history of Sir Douglas Gerant’s long-lost daughter with avidity, for it was not often that society’s jaded appetite was regaled with so delightful a morsel. Many things had happened since dull November, but foremost among them were two events--Lord and Lady Court were abroad, to the great annoyance of society, as it was thus debarred from beholding her ladyship in person, and the engagement between Stuart Crosbie, heir to Crosbie Castle, and Miss Vane Charteris, his cousin, came to an abrupt and strange termination just as the congratulations were pouring in. Many reasons were given in strict confidence for this unsatisfactory affair. It was averred that Miss Charteris had quarreled with her aunt, Mrs. Crosbie, and that Stuart, like a dutiful son, had espoused his mother’s cause; that cold, beautiful Vane refused to become her cousin’s wife when she discovered that Beecham Park had passed away from him; and that Miss Charteris had grown tired of her affianced husband. These and numerous other explanations were whispered; but no one knew the truth--none but three people--the cousins themselves and the mistress of Crosbie Castle.