put on his favorite gown,
too, to do honor to her first appearance in the drawing-room; it was a
lovely gown, and she looked a perfect fairy queen in it, as Erle told
her when he came into the room; but somehow Erle's praise was rather
flat to-night. Fay was longing for her husband; and she had only
dressed to please his eyes. She played with her wedding-ring rather
restlessly while Erle talked his nonsense, and then she remembered
that he must be amused.

"The girls were so dreadfully disappointed," she said, trying to rouse
herself; "they were very good and kind, and stayed with me until six,
and then Dora said they must go; she kept looking at the door, and
fancying she heard Nero bark; and then the younger one, Connie--no,
not Connie, it was Addie--asked so many questions about you--where you
lived, and if I had ever been to Belgrave House? trying to find out
things, you know; and, Erle--I don't believe you are listening a bit,"
with a stamp of her little foot.

"I don't believe I was," returned Erle, frankly. "Don't be vexed, my
Fairy Queen, I can't bother about the girls to-night. I want to tell
you about my visit to the Grange--it is no secret, Mr. Ferrers says,
and I thought you would be interested, it is such a strange affair
altogether."

Well, it was not such a dull evening after all: neither of them could
tell how the time had passed when Ellerton came in to say the last
train had been due for some time, and, as Sir Hugh had not returned,
would my lady have the house shut up; could it actually be past
eleven, and Erle and she still talking about this wonderful story.

Fay's cheeks were quite pink when she bade Erle goodnight; her eyes
shining like stars. Oh, these dear people, she thought, how strange
and sad it all was, and yet how interesting; she had made Erle
describe this Crystal over and over again. She must be an odd girl,
she thought--so passionate and so undisciplined, and to think she was
living with the other one, with the fair hair and the pretty smile;
but when she had said this there had been no answering smile on Erle's
face.

"Yes," he had returned, seriously, "I have often wondered to see them
such friends; they are so utterly dissimilar. Fern--Miss Trafford, I
mean--is gentle and yielding--more like you, Fay; and Miss Ferrers--as
I suppose I ought to call her--is so high-spirited and proud. I often
wonder how Percy dares to make love to her, but he seems to dare
anything."

Well,