"How strange," replied Fay, in a puzzled tone; they were standing on a little strip of beach now, and the waves were coming in with a lazy splash and ripple; there was no one in sight, and only a little boat with sails rocking in the distance; how calm and still and peaceful it looked. "Little Joyce," she repeated, dreamily, while the soft sea breeze fanned the little tendrils of hair from her temples; "but it was dear Margaret for whom he was asking." There was a quick gasp strangled before it rose to a sob--for one moment Margaret thought she was in danger of swooning--the sky seemed whirling, the sea was all round her, the sand was nothing but a giddy circle of purple and rose, and blinding yellow; then it passed, there was firm ground under her feet, the mist cleared before her eyes, and Fay was holding her by the arm. "Were you giddy? how white you looked. Shall we sit down a little? your hand is trembling still." "It was nothing, I have not been strong lately; yes, we will sit, the air will do us both good. What were you saying, Lady Redmond?" as though the words were not burned into her memory: "Dear Margaret!" Why, the very angels must have wept to hear him! "Whom could he mean?" continued Fay, with nervous reiteration. "I don't believe Mrs. Heron was right when she said that he was thinking of his baby sister; he would have called her Joyce. Margaret; there is no one that I know who has that name except yourself; but," looking at her doubtfully, "though you were old friends, it was not likely that he meant you." A deep flush rose to Margaret's face, a quick petition for help and wisdom to guide her at this critical moment rose from her heart. "He used to call me Margaret, in the old days," she said, in a very low voice. "That need not surprise you, Lady Redmond, as we were such old friends; his mother called me Margaret too." "You knew his mother." "Yes, when I was a child, Sir Hugh and I were playfellows; has he not told you that; ah, well, it is sad when old friends get estranged. Lady Redmond, I see you have a question on your lips, may I ask you not to put it. I think that it would not be acting honorably to your husband if you should hear anything from our lips; he can not tell you himself now, but it will not hurt you to wait." "No," replied Fay, slowly, "no, it would not hurt me to wait, as you say, but then you see Hugh may refuse to tell me, as he did before." "Will you ask him again, and see if he refuse? will you tell him that Margaret Ferrers begs him most earnestly to tell you why Redmond Hall and the Grange are estranged? tell him, that no consideration for us need seal his lips any longer, that he has always been free to speak, that we will willingly take our share of blame; will you tell him this?"