But she knew now that all his gentle looks and words were given her out of sheer pity, or in colder kindness, and shrunk from his caresses as much as she had once sought them; and often, as she spoke to him, the shamed, conscious color rose suddenly to her fair face, and broken breaths so impeded her utterance that her only safety was in silence. Scarcely more than a child in years, yet Fay bore her martyrdom nobly. Unloved, unhelped, she girded on her heavy cross and carried it from day to day with a resignation and courage that was truly womanly; and hiding all her wrongs and her sorrows from him, only strove with her meek, young ways to win him yet. But as time went on her love and her suffering increased, and the distance widened miserably between them. Sometimes when her trouble was very heavy upon her--when Hugh had been more than usually restless, and had spoken irritably and sharply to her--she would break down utterly and nestle her face against his in a moment's forgetfulness, and cry softly. Then Hugh would wonder at her, and stroke her hair, and tell her that she had grown nervous by staying at home so much; and then he would lecture her a little in a grand, marital way about taking more care of herself, until she dried her eyes and asked him to forgive her for being so foolish; and so the pent-up pain that was within her found no outlet at all. "Oh, if he will not love me--if he will not try to love me, I must die," cried the poor child to herself; and then she would creep away, with a heart-broken look on her face, and sob herself to sleep. Ah, that was a bitter time to Fay; but she bore it patiently, not knowing that the days that were to follow should be still more full of bitterness than this. Sir Hugh was getting better now--from the hour he had seen Margaret there had been no relapse; but he was struggling through his convalescence with a restless impatience that was very trying to all who came in contact with him. He was longing for more freedom and change of air. He should never grow strong until he went away, he told Fay; and then she understood that he meant to leave her. But the knowledge gave her no fresh pain. She had suffered so much that even he could not hurt her more, she thought. She only said to him once in her shy way, "You will be at home in time, Hugh; you will not leave me to go through it all alone?" And he had promised faithfully that he would come back in plenty of time. And the next morning she found him dressed earlier than usual and standing by the window in the library, and exclaimed at the improvement; and Hugh, moving still languidly, bade her see how well he could walk. "I have been three times round the room and once down the corridor," he said, with a smile at his own boasting. "Tomorrow I shall go out in the garden, and the next day I shall have a drive."