without you, Margaret?" he asked, in a
despairing voice.

"What good? Have you forgotten your wife, Hugh?"

"No," he murmured, restlessly, "but she is only a child;" but Margaret
shook her head.

"You are wrong, she is not a child, nor ever will be again." And then
very gently she urged him when he was stronger to tell Fay the whole
story of their engagement; for she was afraid those few words that he
confessed were all he had said must have made her very unhappy; but
Hugh would not allow this. He told Margaret that she did not
understand Fay, or how young and innocent she really was; she had not
seemed agitated or disturbed when he had asked to see Margaret--she
had answered him quite tranquilly; he was sure she would not suffer
from the knowledge of their engagement, for he was always kind to her
and she loved him; and then he added bitterly that the suffering was
his, but when he got well, if he ever did get well, he would go away,
for he could not go on living like this.

And when Margaret saw how it was she did not dissuade him; perhaps,
after all, it would be better for him to go away for a little, and
come back and begin his life anew, doing a man's work in his
generation.

"One day you will love your wife," she said to him, "and indeed you
can not fail to love her, and then you will only remember that you
have a sister Margaret praying for you every day of her life. No, do
not look at me like that, Hugh. Up in heaven it will be no sin to love
you--I can keep my love till then." And she then tried to leave him,
for, strong as she was, she could not have borne this scene much
longer, and Hugh was terribly exhausted.

"Will you kiss me once more, Margaret?" he had asked, faintly, and she
had stooped over him again and kissed his forehead and eyes, and then
gently bade God bless him.

Was this a woman he had loved or an angel, Hugh wondered, as she
closed the door and left him alone in the sunlight; but he was too
weak to carry out the thought. When the nurse came to his side he had
fallen into a refreshing sleep.

As Margaret crossed the threshold of the dressing-room she caught
sight of a listless little figure sitting in one of the deep
window-seats of the corridor. There was something in her attitude that
struck Margaret--an air of deep dejection, of utter forlornness, that
went to her heart. The beautiful little head seemed drooping with
weariness; but as she went closer and saw the wan face and the