amed and swelled ankle. The hot fomentation was deliciously
soothing, and Miss Ferrers's manipulations so soft and skillful that
Fay was not sorry that her little protest was made without success.

"Don't you think your maid could do this? I do not like to trouble you
so much," she said once, in a deprecating voice.

"It is no trouble," returned Margaret, fixing her beautiful eyes for a
moment on Fay's pale face; "I like to do it for you, Lady Redmond."
Yes, she liked to do it; it gave her a strange pleasure to minister to
her innocent rival, Hugh's wife. As Fay's little white foot rested in
her hand, all at once a scene arouse before her mind--an upper
chamber, where a mild majestic Figure rose from among His wondering
disciples and "girded Himself with a towel."

Ineffable condescension, divine humility, uniting for all ages the law
of service and kindly ministration; bidding men to do likewise, and to
wash the feet of sinners.

Margaret had stolen many a look at the pale little face resting on the
cushions. What a baby face it was, she thought, and yet wonderfully
pretty too; and then, as she bent over her work again, a quick
throbbing pain that was almost agony, and that made her look as pale
as Fay, seemed to stifle her. Hugh, her Hugh; ah, heavens! what was
she thinking? another woman's husband could be nothing to her!

"Men are all alike," she thought, sadly; "even the best of them
forget. Well, he is content with her now--with this little piece of
innocent baby-faced loveliness. Yes," interrupting herself, sternly,
"and I ought to thank God on my knees that he is content--my own Hugh,
whom I love better than myself;" and she looked so gently and kindly
at Fay that the little thing was quite pleased and grateful.

"Oh, how good you are to me," exclaimed Fay, gratefully; "and now
beautifully you have bandaged my foot. It feels so much more
comfortable. What a sweet old room this is, Miss Ferrers. I do like
that cushioned window-seat running round the bay; and oh, what lovely
work," raising herself to look at an ecclesiastical carpet that was
laid on the ground, perfectly strewn with the most beautiful colors,
like a delicate piece of mosaic work. Mr. Ferrers, who had entered the
room that moment, smiled at the sound of the enthusiastic young voice.

"What colors," cried Fay, delightedly; "what purples, and crimsons,
and violets. They look like clusters of jewels, or stars on a
deep-blue ground."

Mr. Ferr