Part 21 (2/2)
The dainty little boot was sadly mangled before they could get it off, and Miss Ferrers uttered a pitying exclamation at the sight of the inflamed and swelled ankle. The hot fomentation was deliciously soothing, and Miss Ferrers's manipulations so soft and skillful that Fay was not sorry that her little protest was made without success.
”Don't you think your maid could do this? I do not like to trouble you so much,” she said once, in a deprecating voice.
”It is no trouble,” returned Margaret, fixing her beautiful eyes for a moment on Fay's pale face; ”I like to do it for you, Lady Redmond.”
Yes, she liked to do it; it gave her a strange pleasure to minister to her innocent rival, Hugh's wife. As Fay's little white foot rested in her hand, all at once a scene arouse before her mind--an upper chamber, where a mild majestic Figure rose from among His wondering disciples and ”girded Himself with a towel.”
Ineffable condescension, divine humility, uniting for all ages the law of service and kindly ministration; bidding men to do likewise, and to wash the feet of sinners.
Margaret had stolen many a look at the pale little face resting on the cus.h.i.+ons. What a baby face it was, she thought, and yet wonderfully pretty too; and then, as she bent over her work again, a quick throbbing pain that was almost agony, and that made her look as pale as Fay, seemed to stifle her. Hugh, her Hugh; ah, heavens! what was she thinking? another woman's husband could be nothing to her!
”Men are all alike,” she thought, sadly; ”even the best of them forget. Well, he is content with her now--with this little piece of innocent baby-faced loveliness. Yes,” interrupting herself, sternly, ”and I ought to thank G.o.d on my knees that he is content--my own Hugh, whom I love better than myself;” and she looked so gently and kindly at Fay that the little thing was quite pleased and grateful.
”Oh, how good you are to me,” exclaimed Fay, gratefully; ”and now beautifully you have bandaged my foot. It feels so much more comfortable. What a sweet old room this is, Miss Ferrers. I do like that cus.h.i.+oned window-seat running round the bay; and oh, what lovely work,” raising herself to look at an ecclesiastical carpet that was laid on the ground, perfectly strewn with the most beautiful colors, like a delicate piece of mosaic work. Mr. Ferrers, who had entered the room that moment, smiled at the sound of the enthusiastic young voice.
”What colors,” cried Fay, delightedly; ”what purples, and crimsons, and violets. They look like cl.u.s.ters of jewels, or stars on a deep-blue ground.”
Mr. Ferrers stooped down and touched the carpet with his large white hand.
”It is for our little church, and by all accounts it must be gorgeous.
The description makes me fancy it like the robe of office that Aaron wore. It has a border of pomegranates, I know. Ah, color is one of my sister's hobbies. She agrees with Ruskin in connecting brilliant coloring with purity of mind and n.o.bility of thought. I believe if she had her way she would wear those same crimsons and emeralds herself.”
Margaret smiled indulgently. ”You must not believe my brother, Lady Redmond. I am very simple in my tastes, but I love to see them on others;” and she looked at Fay's ruby dress. She had removed the heavy furred mantle, and she thought Lady Redmond looked move like a lovely child than ever in her little closely fitting gown.
”Where is my cousin, Mr. Ferrers?” she asked, with some surprise, as he placed himself in a carved arm-chair that stood near the couch.
”Mr. Huntingdon has started off for Redmond Hall. He was afraid your husband might have returned and would be feeling anxious. He will come back in the carriage to fetch you; but as it is rather a long way by the road, and the snow is very deep, you must not look for him for another two hours. Margaret, luncheon is ready; I am going to tell Ruth to bring some up for Lady Redmond.”
Fay was not sorry to have a little longer rest. She was very comfortable lying in this pleasant sunny room, and she had fallen in love with Miss Ferrers.
When they had left her to partake of the dainty little luncheon brought to her, she thought a great deal about the beautiful face that looked so pale and sad, and yet so kind. Had she known trouble, she wondered; she was quite young, and yet there was no look of youth about her. One would never speak of her as a girl, for example--she was much too grave and staid for that; but what a sweet voice she had, very low and harmonious, and yet so clear.
Fay had forgotten her husband for the moment. Erle would explain everything to him, and of course he could not be vexed. What a tiresome thing that this misunderstanding had arisen. She must coax Hugh to put it right. She liked Miss Ferrers better than any of her neighbors. It made her feel good only to look at her.
She wondered if she could venture to hint about the estrangement, or to say how sorry she was that anything should keep them apart. She had not quite made up her mind about it when the brother and sister returned, and Mr. Ferrers asked her playfully if she meant to take a nap, or whether they should stay and talk to her.
”Oh, I would rather talk, please,” with a wistful look at Margaret, who had taken up her work, and placed herself near the window. She wished she would not go so far away; but perhaps she wanted more light. But Mr. Ferrers had taken possession of the arm-chair again and seemed quite at her service, so Fay began chatting to him in her usual fas.h.i.+on.
”I have always admired this old house so,” she said, brightly; ”but I was afraid I should never see the inside, because--” but here she hesitated and hurried on. ”Redmond Hall is grander and larger of course, but this seems more homelike. I liked the hall so when the door opened, and Erle carried me in. It seemed like church, with that great painted window so still and solemn, and full of scented darkness.”
Margaret listened silently, but her brother answered rather sadly,
”It is always full of scented darkness to me, Lady Redmond, and a darkness that may be felt; but of course I know what you mean, for the whole house is full of the perfume of Margaret's flowers. Sometimes our friends declare that they can smell them half-way down the road, but that is nonsense. Still flowers are my sister's hobby; she can not live without having them about her.”
”A very harmless hobby, Raby!”
”Oh, it is a pretty fancy enough,” he answered, smiling. ”If you could walk, Lady Redmond, Margaret would show you our winter garden; the gallery upstairs is a perfect conservatory, and we walk up and down there on wet days, and call it our in-door garden.”
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