early
she meant to love her new home, the old look of pain came back on his
face; and telling her that he knew his Wee Wifie was tired and must go
to bed, he kissed her twice, and then putting her hurriedly from him,
went down-stairs.

And when he got into his library and saw the lamp lighted, and the
fire burning brightly, he gave a sigh of relief at finding himself
alone, and threw himself down in his easy-chair.

And that night, long after Fay had prayed that she might be worthy of
Hugh's love, and make him happy, and had fallen asleep in the old oak
bed with a child's utter weariness, did Hugh sit with his aching head
buried on his arms, thinking how he should bear it, and what he would
do with his life!

And so the home life began, which was far more tolerable to Sir Hugh
than his Continental wanderings had been; when he rode over his estate
and Fay's--the Wyngate lands adjoining, from morning until late
afternoon, planning, building, restoring, or went into Pierrepoint on
magisterial business; happy if at night he was so weary with exercise
that rest was a pleasure and his little wife's manipulations sweet.
All the surrounding gentry for miles round came to call at the Hall,
and were loud in their praises of the sweet-faced bride; but the
Ferrers were not among them--all those winter months Sir Hugh never
saw Margaret. No, though the Grange and the Hall were but two miles
apart, they never met; though many a time Sir Hugh had to turn his
horse into some miry lane, or across a plowed field, to escape her as
she went to and fro among the wayside cottages.

Neither did they meet at the various entertainments--dinner-parties
and dances that were given in honor of the bride. That winter Margaret
declined all invitations; her brother needed her--and she had never
cared much for gayety--this was her only excuse. But Sir Hugh knew why
he never met her--her high sense of honor kept them apart--neither of
them had lived down their pain; in the future it might be possible for
her to be his friend, and the friend of his wife; but now it could
hardly be; and yet Margaret was longing, craving intensely to see the
lovely young creature of whom every one was speaking, and whom already
she loved by report.

Strange to say, no one spoke about the Ferrers to Fay; people were too
well acquainted with the story of Sir Hugh's engagement to Margaret to
venture on a hint. Once Fay asked a lady with whom she was driving,
who lived