s, like Titans struggling in their
death-throes, and others with the sap of youth still flowing through
their woody veins, as they stood clothed in the beauty of their prime.
Fay had often played in this wonderful avenue. She remembered, when
she was a child, rambling with her nurse in the Redmond woods, with
their copses of nut-trees and wild-rose thickets; and their tiny
sylvan lawns, starred over with woodland flowers, such as Spenser
would have peopled "with bearded Fauns and Satyrs, who with their
horned feet do wear the ground, and all the woody nymphs--the fair
Hamadryades;" but though she peered eagerly out in the darkness, she
could see nothing but the carriage lamps flashing on some bare trunk
or gaunt skeleton branches.

"Dear Hugh," she whispered, timidly, "how gloomy and strange it
looks--just like an enchanted forest."

"They have not thought fit to cut down the trees to give light to your
ladyship," observed her husband, laughing at her awe-struck tone.
"Give me your hand, you foolish child; when we have passed the next
turning you will see the old Hall. There will be light enough there;"
and scarcely had the words passed his lips before the Hall burst upon
them--a long low range of building, with its many windows brilliantly
illuminated and ruddy with firelight, while through the open door the
forms of the assembled servants moved hither and thither in a warm
background of light.

"What a lovely old place," cried Fay, breathless with excitement. "I
had almost forgotten how beautiful it was, but I shall see it better
by daylight to-morrow."

"Yes," he returned, with a sigh, "I shall have plenty to show you,
Fay, but now let me help you off with those furs, and lift you out."

Fay shook herself free of the heavy wraps, and then sprung lightly to
the ground; and with her head erect like a little queen, stepped over
the threshold of her new home with her hand still in her husband's.

The circle of men and women gathered in the great hall, with the
housekeeper and gray-haired butler at their head, thrilled with a
vague surprise and wonder at the sight of the childish figure beside
their master.

"Good evening to you all," said Hugh, trying to speak cheerfully,
though there was a huskiness in his pleasant voice that was foreign to
it. "You see I have brought home your new mistress at last, Ellerton.
Mrs. Heron," shaking hands with her, "you must give Lady Redmond a
hearty welcome."

"Yes, indeed, Si