in that quaint old house on the Sandycliffe road? and was
told briefly that the blind vicar, Mr. Ferrers, lived there with his
sister.

Fay would have put some more questions, but Mrs. Sinclair turned the
subject rather quickly; but Fay recurred to it that evening.

"Why have not the Ferrers called on us, Hugh?" she asked, suddenly,
when she was keeping him company in the library.

Sir Hugh started, and then jumped up to replenish the fire.

"Who told you about them?" he asked, as he tried to break a refractory
coal.

"Mrs. Sinclair. I was driving with her this afternoon, and I asked her
who lived in that red brick house with the curious gables, on the
Sandycliffe road, and she said it was the blind vicar, Mr. Ferrers,
and his sister; don't you like them, Hugh? everyone else has called,
and it seems rather strange that they should have taken no notice."

"Well, you see, it is a little awkward," returned her husband, still
wrestling with the coal, while Fay watched the process with interest;
"they used to be friends of mine, but we have had a misunderstanding,
and now, of course, there is a coolness."

"And they are nice people."

"Very nice people; he is a very clever man, but we do not agree--that
is all;" and then Hugh disposed of the coal and took up his paper, and
Fay did not like to disturb him with any more questions. It seemed a
great pity, she thought, it was such a lovely house; and if Mr.
Ferrers were a nice clever man--and then she wondered what his sister
was like; and as she sat at Hugh's feet basking in the fire-light she
had no idea that Hugh's forehead was clouded and puckered with pain.
Fay's innocent questions had raised a storm in his breast. Would she
speak of them again? was there any danger that people would gossip to
her? One day he might be obliged to tell her himself, but not now, she
seemed so happy, so perfectly contented, and she was such a child.

Yes, Hugh's Wee Wifie was very happy.

At first, to be sure, her position was a little difficult and irksome.
The number of servants bewildered her; she wished Mrs. Heron would not
interlard her conversation with so many "my ladys," and that, Hugh
would ride with her oftener instead of that tiresome groom.

But by and by she got used to her new dignity, and would drive her
gray ponies through the country roads, stopping to speak to any old
villager she knew; or she would mount Bonnie Bess at the hour she
thought Hugh would be returning