She moved forward and kissed the lips Lady Enid upheld to her; there was a flush of delight on the pale face of the invalid, a glow of unalloyed happiness in the lovely brown eyes. “Ah, Nugent, it is like a gleam of sunshine to see you again! Where have you come from?” “From Italy. I paused only one day in Paris. I was eager to see you, my darling.” Lord Court drew up a chair to his sister’s side, and took her hand in his. “You are looking better, Enid,” he added. “That is due to Margery then. I am so happy with her.” “Miss Daw is a most successful physician,” the earl remarked, smilingly. “I give place to a better,” Margery replied; then, with a sweet smile, she left the room. “Is she not sweet, Nugent?” cried Lady Enid. “It is the most beautiful face I have ever seen,” the earl involuntarily declared. * * * * * The day succeeding the Earl of Court’s arrival was passed by Margery principally in her own room. She felt that the brother and sister had much to speak of that was of moment to themselves, and she shrank, with natural delicacy, from intruding. She employed her morning in writing a long letter to Miss Lawson and painting some handscreens for Lady Enid. The afternoon sun tempted her to go out, and she wandered round the garden in the square, ignorant that a pair of dark eyes were fixed admiringly on her slight, graceful figure and on the wealth of red-gold hair gleaming in the sunlight. It was a dreary plot of ground to call a garden--the trees were begrimed with the smoke of the city, the flower beds were faded and dull, the very earth was hard and cold-looking--yet all its dreariness was lost on Margery. She paced its paths nearly every day; but she did not see her surroundings--her mind was too full of thought. In her moments of solitude her memory claimed her, though she was struggling hard to forget--the pain of her lost love was too new yet. Again and again she would go back to those two days standing out clear and distinct from all other days--the day of happiness unspeakable and the day when the sun had shone on the hot, dusty lane, and she had heard the words that drove that wonderful happiness from her tender young heart forever. She was content, gratefully content, in her present life, for she had peace and affection; but happy, she whispered to herself, she could never be again.