together one lovely September evening, and he had told her, laughing,
that it should be his marriage-gift to her. They had planned it
together, and now he was carrying it out alone; for Fay owned the
moment afterward that she did not know where the new cottages were;
she must ask Hugh to take her one day to see them, but perhaps he
would rather that she waited until they were finished.

Margaret was beginning to feel strangely troubled; a dim but unerring
instinct told her that Fay was more petted than beloved. It was
evident that Hugh lived his own life separate from her, submerged in
his own interests and pursuits, and her heart grew very pitiful over
Fay as she realized this. If she could only meet Hugh face to face; if
she could only speak to him. She felt instinctively that things were
not altogether right with him. Why did he not try to guide and train
the childish nature that was so dependent on him? why did he repress
all her longings to be useful to him, and to take her share of the
duties of life? Surely her extreme youth was no excuse, she was not
too young to be his wife. Margaret told herself sadly that here he was
in error, that he was not acting up to his responsibilities, to leave
this child so much alone.

Fay's frankness and simplicity were touching Margaret's heart; even
this one interview proved to her that under the girlish crudities
there was something very sweet and true in her nature; the petty
vanities and empty frivolous aims of some women were not to be traced
in Fay's conversation. Her little ripple of talk was as fresh and
wholesome as a clear brook that shows nothing but shining-pebbles
under the bright current; the brook might be shallow, but it reflected
the sunshine.

Margaret's thoughts had been straying rather sorrowfully, when a
speech of Fay's suddenly roused her.

"I do wish we could be friends," she observed, rather piteously. "I am
sure my husband must like you both, for he spoke so nicely about you;
it is such a pity when people get to misunderstand each other."

"My dear Lady Redmond," returned Raby, kindly, "it is a pity, as you
say; and we have no ill feeling to your husband; but, I dare say he is
wise if he does not think it possible for us to have much intercourse.
Sir Hugh and I do not agree about things," went on Raby after a slight
hesitation; "perhaps he will tell you the reason some day; but you may
be sure that on this point your husband knows best,"--for he felt