only like some still haven of
repose. Only to sleep, he said, to sleep--to rest--and with his white
lips he murmured, "and may God have mercy on my soul." And ever he
longed and prayed that he might see Margaret again.

And one night he dreamed of her.

He dreamed that he was dying--as he surely believed he was--and that
Margaret came to his bedside and looked at him. He could see her
distinctly; the pale, beautiful face, the folds of her dress, the wave
of her dead-brown hair. And when he awoke and saw only the spring
sunshine filling the room, and quivering light under his eyelids, and
knew that the fresh day was dawning brightly to all but him, he could
not suppress the groan that rose to his lips, "Margaret, Margaret."

Fay was sitting by him, but the curtain concealed her; she had been
curled up for hours in the big arm-chair that stood at the head of the
bed. It was her habit to rise early and go to her husband's room and
send the nurse to rest; indeed, Dr. Martin had to use all his
authority to induce her to take needful exercise, for Fay begrudged
every moment spent out of the sick-room.

She was looking out at the avenue and listening to the soft soughing
of the spring breezes in the tree-tops, and thinking of the summer
days that were to bring her a marvelous gift; but at the sound of
Hugh's agonized voice her day-dream vanished. "Margaret, Margaret," he
had said, and then almost with a sob, "my one and only love,
Margaret."

No! she was not asleep, the words were ringing in her ears. Hugh, her
Hugh, had spoken them, "My one and only love, Margaret."

He must take back those words, that was her first thought. Oh, no, he
could not mean them; it would not be possible to go on living if she
thought he meant them; but he was ill, and she must not agitate him,
she must speak to him very quietly for fear the fever had returned,
and his poor head was confused again.

"You have been dreaming," she said, gently--oh, so gently. "What is it
you want, my dearest."

And Hugh, folding his wasted hands together as though he were praying,
looked up to her with unutterable longing in his eyes, and panted out
"Margaret."

"Margaret," she repeated, slowly; "what Margaret do you mean, Hugh?"

"Margaret Ferrers," he whispered. "Oh, Fay, dear Fay, if I have
wronged you, forgive me. In the old times before I knew you, Margaret
and I were engaged--she had promised to be my wife, and then she took
back her promise. Child,