right; but you need not have dreaded the
result of such an ordeal; Crystal would never have loved any one but
you, Raby. I sometimes think"--but here she hesitated.

"You think what, Margaret?"

"That she was jealous of Mona--that she misunderstood you there?"

"Good heavens! Mrs. Grey!"

"Crystal was so young, and she did not know that poor Mona's life was
doomed. I have seen her look at Mona so strangely when you were
talking to her; and once she asked me if you admired fair women, and
if you did not think Mrs. Grey very beautiful; and when I said yes, I
remember she turned very pale and did not answer."

"I never thought of this," he returned, in a tone of grief. "It must
have been one of her sick fancies, poor unhappy child--as though my
heart had ever swerved from her for an instant. What do you think,
Margaret, could she care for the blind man still?"

"More than ever, dear. If I know Crystal, her heart has belonged to
you from a child."

"There speaks my comforter"--with one of his rare smiles; "you are
always good to me, Madge. Now read to me a little, and let me banish
these weary thoughts. One little clew--one faint hint--and I would
keep my word and seek for her; but, as you say, we must have patience
a little longer," and Raby straightened himself and composed himself
to listen, and they sat there until the evening sunshine began to
creep about the sun-dial, and it was time for Raby to walk over to
Pierrepoint.

It is well for some of us that coming events do not always cast their
shadow before; that we lie down to rest in happy ignorance of what the
next day may bring forth. As Margaret looked out on the moonlight that
evening, she little thought that that Sunday was the last day of her
happy girlhood--that the morrow held a bitter trial in store for her.

She was sitting alone in the morning-room, the next afternoon, when
Sir Wilfred Redmond was announced, and the next moment the old man
entered the room.

A faint blush came to Margaret's cheeks as she rose to greet him. This
visit meant recognition of her as his son's _fiancee_; and yet, why
did he come alone--why was not Hugh with him? Hugh's father was almost
a stranger to her. He was a man of reserved habits, who had never been
very sociable with his neighbors, and Margaret had seen little of him
in her girlish days.

"It is very good of you to come so soon, Sir Wilfred," she said,
blushing still more rosily under his penetrating glance.