It had never occurred to her simple mind to question her husband's right to keep so entirely aloof from her, and to give her such fragments of his time. But now, as Erle spoke, a dim unconscious feeling came over her that another was usurping his rightful place; that it was her husband who ought to be riding and driving with her, and not his young cousin, but in her wifely loyalty she stifled the feeling, and spoke firmly, though with crimsoned cheeks, like the brave little woman she really was. "Why, you extremely foolish boy," she said, "don't you know that Hugh has something better to do with his time than to waste it on me? You see," she continued, with much dignity, "he has my estate to look after as well as his own, and it is a large one, and he has no reliable bailiff." "Dear, dear," replied Erle, with much solemnity. "And he has to ride over to Pierrepoint on magisterial business ever so often," and here Fay stammered slightly over the long word, but recovered herself in an instant; "and he visits the infirmary, and looks after any of his people who are ill there." Here Erle again said, "Dear, dear;" but his provoking smile died away after a glance at her face. "And," continued Fay, her mouth quivering a little, "you must see how proud I am of being his wife, and must not think that I am sorry that he is able to spend so little of his time with me, for I would not have him neglect his duty for the world; no, no, he is far too good and noble and useful to waste his time on me;" and Fay's face wore such a sweet tremulous smile as she spoke, that Erle whispered under his breath, "You are a darling," and went out silently, and perhaps for the first time in his life forgot to hum as he put on his fur-lined coat. And Fay, standing alone in her little room, whispered softly, "No, no, my bonny Hugh, your Wee Wifie loves you far too well to keep you all to herself;" but during the remainder of the day she was a little quieter than usual; and Erle missed the gentle fun that rippled into such a stream of girlish talk. He had no idea that every now and then his words came back to her with a little throb of pain, "You have your husband, Fay." Yes, she had her husband; but would the time ever come to the girl-wife when she should know she had him, but that she could not hold him, when she should learn that he had given her everything but his heart, and cry out against him in that bitter waking that all was worthless to her but that? CHAPTER XVI. FAY'S DILEMMA. Blessing she is; God made her so; And deeds of week-day holiness Fall from her noiseless as the snow; Nor hath she ever chanced to know That aught were easier than to bless. LOWELL. And through the windows of her eyes We often saw her saintly soul, Serene, and sad, and sorrowful, Go sorrowing for lost Paradise. GERALD MASSY.