Yet, it was evident to any keen observer who studied the quiet face, that some load of care lay on the bowed shoulders of Mr. Ferrers; some heavy weight that at times seemed to crush him. Sometimes when Margaret was reading to him, he would make a sign for her to stop, and, laying down the book, she would watch him pacing up and down the green alleys of the Grange garden with his sightless eyes turned to the sunshine; but she knew that it was not of his blindness he was thinking, but of a heavier trouble still. Few people about Sandycliffe knew that Margaret Ferrers was only Raby's half-sister; there were only a few years between them, and in the close intimacy that had grown up between the brother and sister, it was seldom remembered by either of them that they had different mothers. Colonel Ferrers had married within two years of his first wife's death, and the second Mrs. Ferrers had brought the Grange and a wealthy dowry to her husband. But the marriage had not been a happy one, and the three last years of Mrs. Ferrers' life had been passed away from her husband. There were hints and tales of bitter scenes in the Grange, but little was known in the village; only, when Margaret was seven years old, and Raby a lad of fourteen, there was a grand funeral, such as Sandycliffe had never witnessed, and Mrs. Ferrers was laid in the same marble tomb where her predecessor was buried, and it was noted with some surprise and a little incredulity that Colonel Ferrers seemed overcome with grief. It was about fourteen months before Raby had stood in the large porch waiting for his glass of milk that one summer's morning the little church-yard was full of loitering villagers, waiting for the bells to stop before they hurried into their places.