Beecham Park was a huge, gloomy mansion, so deserted and solitary-looking that, as they drove up the magnificent avenue of chestnuts, Margery involuntarily shuddered. Sir Eustace Gerant had neglected the estate, and, splendid though the building was within, it did not bring the pleasure to its owner that Court Manor had. “Are you disappointed, my darling?” asked the earl one morning, after watching her carefully. “It is very grand; the grounds and woods are beautiful; but it is not home,” she answered, with a sigh. However, there was much to be done--for they found that the steward, who had had sole control of the estate, had neglected his duties most disgracefully; so, placing all authority in the hands of her husband, Margery turned her attention to the village near, burying all regrets and vain hopes that assailed her in untiring work on behalf of her tenants. It was a weary trial at times, for, though she had courage, her strength would occasionally fail, and her heart would yearn for the love she had lost; but none knew of this struggle but herself--she had learned to control her emotions and smile when the burden was heaviest. “’Tis strange with how much power and pride The softness is of love allied. How much of power to force the breast To be in outward show at rest, How much of pride that never eye May look upon its agony. Ah, little will the lip reveal Of all the burning heart can feel!” Of Stuart she heard nothing; but she had faith in his courage and manliness, and knew that, once the cloud which overshadowed him had passed, he would fulfill his word and face the world. He was once more her ideal, her hero, and she felt he would not fail in this duty to himself. Engrossed in her thoughts and daily tasks, she did not notice the change that seemed to be coming over the earl. His tenderness never failed, his courtesy and love were never lacking, and she had grown so used to all his thoughtful care that it seemed but the adjunct of everyday life. But she was suddenly awakened from this existence. The Squire of Crosbie Castle had been one of the first among her new relatives warmly to welcome Margery. He had loved her father, and for his old affection’s sake had opened his heart to the young girl; when therefore he learned that the Earl and Countess of Court had returned to England and were staying at Beecham Park, he wrote immediately, expressing a great wish to visit them. To this Margery and her husband replied with genuine pleasure, begging the squire to come as soon as possible.