The days passed away, and Stuart Crosbie gradually recovered from the effects of his fall. Despite the assurance from Sir Douglas that her son was doing well, Mrs. Crosbie satisfied herself and summoned the village doctor, together with a fashionable physician from town, only to receive the same opinion from them, coupled with the expression that Stuart could not have been better treated. The young man passed four days in his room; but, as the pain left his head, he insisted on donning his clothes and descending to the garden. His mind was haunted by Margery’s image and the thought of her sorrow; for the news of Mrs. Morris’ death had reached him through his servant, and he longed to rush away and comfort his darling. He had seen little of his mother during the past four days; Sir Douglas had constituted himself head nurse, and Mrs. Crosbie, who was not quite at home in a sickroom, gave way to him with a little annoyance and jealousy, though she would not let it be seen. Stuart had not been sufficiently well, during the short time she visited him, to speak about Margery--indeed, he scarcely had strength to reply to her inquiries--the heat was still very great, and, although he had an excellent constitution, he was considerably weakened by the fever and pain. But, though he could not collect his ideas to speak of Margery, she was never absent from his thoughts. The vision of her sweet blue eyes, her wistful, lovely face, haunted his bedside, bringing a sense of peace and rest to his troubled dreams. At last, after four days had passed, Stuart insisted on leaving his room and seeking the air, urged, in fact, by a strong desire to see his mother and tell her of his love. Sir Douglas offered no opposition to this move; the severer effects of the fall were now passed, and, with such health and vigor as Stuart possessed, his arm would soon heal. Nevertheless, it was a rather shattered likeness of the handsome cousin that greeted Vane Charteris’ eyes as she crossed the hall and saw him making slow progress down the stairs. “Let me help you,” she said, gently, moving forward at once, and putting out her hand. “Thanks. I am rather shaky,” returned Stuart, smiling faintly. “How do you do, Cousin Vane? Thanks for all your kind messages.” Vane made no reply, but helped him down the stairs, across the hall to the colonnade, and, pushing forward a large chair, she soon made him comfortable. “Thank you,” he said again; “you are very kind. Is my mother anywhere about?” “She has gone to Chesterham on some missionary business,” replied Vane, leaning back against one of the white pillars, and looking extremely pretty and graceful in her long, soft pink gown. “I don’t think she knew that you were coming down, or I am sure she would not have gone.”