their want. He remembered the hours she had
sat beside him, fanning the flies from his pillow or bathing his
aching head. She had never left him--never seemed tired or impatient,
though her face had grown so pale with watching. Others would have
spared her; others told him that she was spent and weary, but he had
never noticed it. "And, brute that I was," he thought, "I left her
alone in her trouble with only strangers and hirelings about her, to
fight her way through the very Valley of the Shadow of Death." He took
out her letter and smoothed it out--it was a trick of his when he
thought no one would see him. He had read it over until he knew every
word by heart. Ah! if Heaven would but spare him this once and give
him back the strength he had misused, that he might find her, poor
child, and bring her home, and comfort her as only he could comfort
her. He would love her now, he thought; yes, if she would only bear
with him and give him time, he knew from the deep pity and tenderness
which he felt that he would love her yet, for the merciful Providence
that had laid the erring man low was teaching him lessons that no
other discipline could have inculcated.

The cold December wind was whirling through the bare branches of the
oaks and beeches in the Redmond avenue when Sir Hugh came home, a
changed and saddened man.

Yes, changed outwardly as well as inwardly. Good Mrs. Heron cried when
she saw him enter the hall on Saville's arm, looking so thin and worn,
and leaning on his stick.

His youth seemed to have passed away; his smooth forehead was already
furrowed like that of a middle-aged man, and his fair hair had worn
off it slightly, making him look ten years older; and yet there was
that in Hugh Redmond's face, if Margaret could have seen it, that
would have filled her pure heart with exceeding thankfulness.

For though the pallor caused by suffering was still there, and those
who saw him said Sir Hugh was a broken man, yet there was a nobler
expression than it had ever worn in happier days. The old fretful
lines round the mouth were gone; and, though the eyes looked sadly
round at the old familiar faces, as though missing the truest and
best, still, there was a chastened gravity about his whole mien that
spoke of a new and earnest purpose; of a heart so humbled at last that
it had fled to its best refuge, and had found strength in the time of
need.

Many years afterward he owned, to one who was ever his closest