"Oh, yes," returned Fay, in a relieved voice; "and he will be sure to tell me now; no doubt he was afraid of paining you in some way. Hugh is so kind-hearted, he hates to make any one uncomfortable. I will not try to find out any more by myself; I will be good and patient until he gets well." "That is spoken like a brave wife," replied Margaret, with a faint smile. "By one who loves her husband more than herself." "As I love Hugh," was the soft response; "dear Miss Ferrers, I must go now; the ponies will be growing restless, and I am a long way from home." "Yes, I must not keep you. God bless you, Lady Redmond. Will you forgive me if I stop here, for I have been walking from Pierrepoint, and need rest," but Margaret did not add that her strength had forsaken her, and that she dared not move from her place for fear her limbs should refuse to carry her; she would wait a little until strength came back, and she could meet Raby with her usual calmness. "Yes, you look very tired," was Fay's unconscious answer; "but you will soon get rested with this lovely air." And then she kissed her affectionately, and went up the beach with her old elastic step, and Margaret watched her sadly until she was out of sight. "She is sweet and good, but he does not love her yet," she said to herself; "but it will come, it must come in time." Fay drove happily home, and was met at the lodge gates by the good news that Sir Hugh had had an hour or two's refreshing sleep, and that Dr. Conway, as well as Dr. Martin, were quite satisfied with the progress he had made. "Oh, could it be quite true?" Fay asked, when she reached the Hall. Yes, it was quite true the fever had abated. Sir Hugh's wonderful strength and vitality had triumphed at last, and the doctors soon announced that he was out of danger. There were still days of weary waiting for Fay before it was pronounced safe for her to enter her husband's sickroom; but at last the day came, and one sweet spring evening, Hugh waking up from a brief doze, felt tears falling on his forehead, and saw Fay leaning over him. He was too weak even to put out his hand, but a faint smile came to his lips. "My Wee Wifie," Fay heard him say, but the next moment the smile had died away into sadness. CHAPTER XXI. "LET ME SEE MARGARET." Be with me, love, when weak and worn, My life chord vibrates to and fro; When with the flood-tide's backward flow, My soul stands waiting to be gone. And let me, with my failing hand, Hold fast to that I love so well, Till thine clasps but an empty shell, Amid the drift-weed on the sand. Be with me that my closing eyes In that last hour may seek thy face, Thine image so can none displace, But soar with me through yonder skies. HELEN MARION BURNSIDE "But they were not out of the wood yet," as Mrs. Heron observed to Ellerton.