t 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.

A few days after that Fay met with a slight accident.

The snow had been falling very heavily all night, and when Fay went to
the window the next morning, she looked out on a white world, and not
a vestige of the blue ice could be seen for the drifts that lay heaped
on the little lake.

She called Hugh to look out with her. "What a pity," she said,
sorrowfully; "for we had asked the Romney girls and the Spooners to
come up and skate this afternoon. Erle is so fond of young ladies, and
he admires Dora Spooner immensely, and now I suppose there will be no
skating."

"Of course the men could sweep the snow away fast enough," returned
Hugh, with a hasty glance at the glorious prospect outside; there were
tiny bird tracks on the white surface, some brown sparrows and a robin
were hopping across the snow. Not a breath stirred the laden branches,
though they drooped under their snowy festoons. "I dare say the ice
would be right enough for a little while, but the air feels milder,
and there is danger of a thaw."

"Never mind, we will see how it is to-morrow, and Erle shall take me
for a walk instead. I suppose," a little plaintively, "you will be too
busy to come too?"

"Oh, yes, far too busy," Hugh assured her, as he seated himself at the
breakfast-table and commenced opening his letters. Fay read hers--a
few notes--and then sat silent behind her silver urn until Erle
sauntered lazily into the room, and then she brightened up and began
to talk.

"I think I will send off a note to the vicarage, and ask Dora and the
others to come all the same, and we will have a nice walk this
morning--that is, if you do not mind, Hugh," looking at the handsome
abstracted face bent over the paper; but she had to repeat her
question before it reached Hugh's ear.

"Oh, no! it does not matter to me," he answered, indifferently. "Ask
whom you like, Fay. The Spooners an