self, my dearie, may be they will cool the fever in
your heart, and make you see clear, and bring you back to us again."

"Hush, hush! I will not hear you. I will only talk of my poor
Margaret. She would not marry him you say."

"No, she was like a rock, not all the poor young master could say
could change her resolution. I know she told him that his father was
right to forbid their marriage, and though it was a cruel trouble to
them both, they must bear it, for it was God's will, not Sir
Wilfred's, that separated them; but he would never listen to her, and
at last he just flung away in a rage and married the other."

"The other!--whom do you mean, Catharine?"

"Well, you have heard of Colonel Mordaunt, who lived up at Wyngate
Priory, the big place, up yonder, some of the land adjoins the Hall
lands, but the house is no better than a ruin."

"Yes, I know; Colonel Mordaunt died in India."

"Well, may be you did not know that the colonel had a daughter, a bit
bonny lass, who was brought up by an aunt in the country. It seems Sir
Wilfred and the colonel had always hoped to bring about a match
between the young people, and after Sir Wilfred's death they found a
letter with the will, charging Mr. Hugh by all that was sacred not to
marry Miss Margaret, and begging him to go down to Daintree, and see
Colonel Mordaunt's beautiful young daughter. Miss Margaret told me
with tears in her eyes what a loving fatherly letter it was, and how
it prayed Mr. Hugh, to forgive him for crossing his will; but told him
at the same time that no blessing could ever follow his marriage with
Margaret Ferrers."

"No blessing? There is some mystery here, Catharine."

"That is what I say, Miss Crystal, but reason or not, the poor young
master was half-crazed with the disappointment; he was for setting
aside everything, and going on reckless-like, but Miss Margaret she
was like a rock--she could not and would not marry him; and in his
anger against her, and because he did not care what became of him, he
went down to Daintree and settled the matter with Miss Mordaunt, and
that is all I know, Miss Crystal."

"One--two--three--four," counted the girl with a bitter smile, "four
broken hearts, four mutilated lives, and the sun shines, and the birds
sing--one hungers, thirsts, sleeps, and wakes again, and a benignant
Creator suffers it; but hush! there are footsteps Catharine, hide me,
quick."

"My dearie, don't look so scared like, it is only