forbore to mention that the child
had always been called by her second name Joyce. "Ay, she was a pretty
little dear, and Master Hugh--I mean Sir Hugh--doated on her; she had
the whooping-cough very badly, and Miss Joy--I mean Miss Margaret was
always delicate, and it just carried her off."

"And my husband was fond of her?" was the musing reply, "and yet it
seems strange that he should go back all those years and think of his
baby sister."

"I don't think Doctor Martin would say it was strange if you were to
ask him, my lady," was the diplomatic answer. "We might mention it
to-morrow, and see what he says. You may depend upon it that folk
travel backward in their mind when the fever gets hold of their brain.
Most likely he is thinking a deal of his mother and Miss Margaret, for
he was always an affectionate lad was Master Hugh."

"Dear Margaret! that was what he called her."

"Ay, no doubt, precious little lamb. I can see her now, with her curly
head and white frock, as she pelted Master Hugh with rose-leaves on
the lawn. Now, my lady, you are only fit for bed, and there is not a
morsel of color in your face, and Ellerton says you hardly touched
dinner. Now I am going to bring you up a glass of wine and a sandwich,
and you will let Janet help you undress."

Fay was too weary to resist. What did it matter, she thought again;
but with her usual sweet courtesy she thanked Mrs. Heron, and tried to
swallow a few mouthfuls, though they seemed to choke her, but she was
glad when they left her alone. Sleep? how was she to sleep, with this
nightmare of horror oppressing her? Again, the poor shaven head was
lying in her bosom. She was kissing the wide staring eyes. Why had he
pushed her from him? "Oh, Hugh, you ought to have known me," she
sobbed, as she tossed wearily in the darkness. Janet, who was sleeping
in the adjoining room, heard her once and came to her bedside.

"Were you calling me, my lady?" she asked.

"No, Janet," answered the poor child. "I am only crying because I am
so unhappy."

"Better go to sleep, my lady," was Janet's sympathizing reply; "things
seem always worse in the dark; most likely we shall hear the master is
better to-morrow. Saville says he has a deal of strength in him and
will cheat the doctors yet;" and somehow this homely consolation
soothed Fay, and by and by she slept the unbroken sleep of youth.

Dr. Martin listened to Mrs. Heron's account with a very grave face the
next morning, b