ey
spoke of her broken rest and failing appetite, he said that was
natural, too.

They must take better care of her, and not let her do so much. That
was his sole remark; and then, when she came into the room a few
minutes afterward to bathe his aching head and read him to sleep, or
to sit fanning the teasing flies from him for the hour together, Hugh
never seemed to notice the languid step or the pale, tired face, out
of which the lovely color had faded.

His Wee Wifie was such a dear, quiet little nurse, he said, and with
that scant meed of praise Fay was supposed to be satisfied.

But she knew now that all his gentle looks and words were given her
out of sheer pity, or in colder kindness, and shrunk from his caresses
as much as she had once sought them; and often, as she spoke to him,
the shamed, conscious color rose suddenly to her fair face, and broken
breaths so impeded her utterance that her only safety was in silence.
Scarcely more than a child in years, yet Fay bore her martyrdom nobly.
Unloved, unhelped, she girded on her heavy cross and carried it from
day to day with a resignation and courage that was truly womanly; and
hiding all her wrongs and her sorrows from him, only strove with her
meek, young ways to win him yet.

But as time went on her love and her suffering increased, and the
distance widened miserably between them.

Sometimes when her trouble was very heavy upon her--when Hugh had been
more than usually restless, and had spoken irritably and sharply to
her--she would break down utterly and nestle her face against his in a
moment's forgetfulness, and cry softly.

Then Hugh would wonder at her, and stroke her hair, and tell her that
she had grown nervous by staying at home so much; and then he would
lecture her a little in a grand, marital way about taking more care of
herself, until she dried her eyes and asked him to forgive her for
being so foolish; and so the pent-up pain that was within her found no
outlet at all.

"Oh, if he will not love me--if he will not try to love me, I must
die," cried the poor child to herself; and then she would creep away,
with a heart-broken look on her face, and sob herself to sleep.

Ah, that was a bitter time to Fay; but she bore it patiently, not
knowing that the days that were to follow should be still more full of
bitterness than this.

Sir Hugh was getting better now--from the hour he had seen Margaret
there had been no relapse; but he was struggli