As for Fergus, he had reason to bless Aunt Jeanie's hospitality; for Sir Hugh overwhelmed the inhabitants of the Manse with liberal tokens of his gratitude--Aunt Jeanie, Fergus, Jean, even pretty Lilian Graham, reaped the effects of English munificence. Fay had _carte blanche_ to buy anything or everything she thought suitable. Silk dresses, furs, books, and a telescope--long the ambition of the young minister--all found their way to the Manse; not to mention the princely gift that made the young couple's path smooth for many a year to come. Want of generosity had never been a Redmond failing. Hugh's greatest pleasure was to reward the people who had sheltered his lost darling. It was a painful moment for Hugh's proud nature when he first crossed the threshold of his old Hall, with Fay looking shy and downcast beside him, but Fay's simplicity and childishness broke the brief awkwardness; for the moment she saw Mrs. Heron's comely face she threw her arms round her neck with a little sob, and there was not a dry eye among the assembled servants when she said in her clear young voice--"Oh, how glad I am to be amongst you all again. Was it not good of my husband to bring me back? You must all help me to make up to him for what he has suffered." "It was too much for the master," observed Ellerton afterward, "he just turned and bolted when my lady said that--a man does not care to make a fool of himself before his servants; he would have stood by her if he could, but his feelings were too much for him, and you see he knew that he was to blame." But Fay would allow nothing of the kind, when she followed him into the library, and saw him sitting with his face hidden on his folded arms, and the evening sunshine streaming on his bowed figure. Fay stood looking at him for a moment, and then she quietly drew his head to her shoulder--much as though he were baby Hugh, and wanted her motherly consolation. "My darling husband," she whispered, "I know it is all my fault, but you have forgiven me--you must not let me make you unhappy." "Oh," he said, bitterly, "to think I have brought my wife to this that she should need to apologize to her own servants. But then they all know you are an angel." But she would not let him talk like this. What were his faults to her--was he not her husband? If he had ill-used her, would she not still have clung to him? "Dear, it is only because of your goodness and generosity that I am here now," she said, kissing his hand; "you need not have looked for me, you know;" and then she made him smile by telling him of Ellerton's quaint speeches; and after that he let himself be consoled. Years afterward he told her, that the days that followed their return home were their real honey-moon, and she believed him; for they were never apart.