baby
mouth quivering, with the under lip pressed like a child's in pain,
she gave an involuntary exclamation. She would not suffer, Hugh had
said, she was so young and innocent; and now--the angels comfort your
broken heart, sweet Fay.

"Hush!" she said, turning round as she heard Margaret's voice; "we
must not talk here, it would disturb him, and he must be kept very
quiet--oh! very quiet, Doctor Conway says. Come in here, if you wish
to speak to me," and she led the way into her little room. "Will you
sit down?" she went on, with the same passive gentleness; "you were
good to come, but--but--it must have tired you."

"Oh! Lady Redmond--" But here Margaret could say no more. She seemed
to have no strength left for this; she felt as though her calmness and
fortitude were deserting her.

"I told Doctor Conway that you were coming, and he thought it would do
no harm, and Doctor Martin said the same. He knows you, he says, and
he was sure that you would be very wise and quiet, that you would not
excite him. No, do not tell me anything about it. I--I can trust you,
and Hugh would not like me to know."

"Indeed you are mistaken," began Margaret, eagerly, but Fay checked
her with a little dignity.

"Never mind that. Do you know, Miss Ferrers, that Doctor Conway says
that my husband is better, that he will not die, it is only weakness
and a nervous fancy; but though he is so slow in getting well, they
notice a gradual improvement."

"Thank God, for your sake, Lady Redmond." But as she said this a
painful flush mounted to Fay's forehead.

"You should say for his sake," she returned, quietly. "What does it
matter about me? Perhaps before the summer is over we may be at rest
together, baby and I."

"Lady Redmond! Oh! I can not bear it;" and here Margaret burst into
tears. Yes, she who had parted dry-eyed from her lover wept bitterly
for the deceived and unhappy wife.

"Why do you cry, Miss Ferrers?" asked Fay, in the same subdued voice.
"It seems to me that if God would take us both it would be so much
better for us all. Nobody wants us"--and here her lips quivered--"and
I should not like my baby to live without me. What could Hugh do with
it, you know?"

"My child," replied Margaret, checking her sobs, "is this your faith?
is this your woman's courage? Would you who love him so be content to
die without winning your husband's heart?"

Fay looked at her wonderingly.

"It is yours to win," she continued. "Oh! do