Part 29 (1/2)

She understood it now. The arrow so feebly winged had sped to the depths of that innocent heart, and what she would not have believed if an angel had told it her, she had heard from her husband's lips.

Margaret was beloved and not she, and Fay must bear it and live.

And the fair child-face grew whiter and whiter, but she only took the nerveless hands in hers and kissed them.

”Do not fret, Hugh, it shall be as you wish,” she said, in a voice so low that he only just heard her, for a sobbing breath seemed to impede her utterance; ”it shall be as you wish, my dear husband,” and then, not trusting herself to look at him, she left the room.

In the corridor she met Saville.

”Please find the nurse and send her to Sir Hugh,” she said, hurriedly, ”and tell Ford I want him to take a note over to Sandycliffe,” and then she went into the library and wrote a few words.

”DEAR MISS FERRERS,--My husband wishes to see you; will you come to him at once? He thinks that he is very ill, and can not live, and he wishes to bid you goodbye. He has told me the reason, and it is quite right, and I hope you will come, for I can not bear to see him fret.”

And then she remembered that she had not ordered the pony-carriage, and that Ford would be saddling one of the horses; so she rang for Ellerton, and made him understand very carefully, that Ford was to drive over to the Grange and take the note, and that he must wait and bring Miss Ferrers back with him. ”For you must know, Ellerton,” she said, with pathetic dignity, but not looking at the old servant, ”that Sir Hugh feels himself worse, and wants to say good-bye to his old friend;” ”for of course,” thought Fay, when Ellerton had left the library with tears in his eyes, ”if Hugh and she were engaged, all the servants must know, and it was better for me to speak out like that.”

When Margaret read that poor little note the tears fell fast and blotted the page. ”Thank G.o.d she knows at last,” she said to herself as she folded it up, and then hurriedly prepared to obey the summons.

She hoped that she would not see Lady Redmond before that parting with Hugh were over, for she needed all her strength for that; and to her great relief only Ellerton received her. She was ushered for a few minutes into the empty drawing-room, and then Sir Hugh's nurse came down to her, and said Dr. Martin had just left the house, and her master would see Miss Ferrers now.

And there was no one in the sick-room when she entered it, though the nurse had told her that she would be in the dressing-room within call.

There was no one to see the flash of joy in the sick man's eyes, when Margaret's cold lips touched his forehead, or to hear his low ”Margaret, darling,” that greeted her.

But when she had looked in his face she knew he would not die, and that her work was before her; and while poor weak Hugh panted out words of pa.s.sionate longing and despair, she was girding up her strength for what she had to say, and praying for help that she might be able to comfort him.

And no one knew what pa.s.sed between them but their guardian angels; only Hugh's miserable selfish pa.s.sion sunk down abashed as he listened to this brave sweet woman who was not ashamed to tell him how she loved him, and how she would love him to her life's end. And as he saw into the depths of that pure heart, its stainless purity, its unrepining sorrow, he trembled and was silent.

”What am I that I should touch even the hem of her garment?” he said to himself afterward.

And she told him what he had never guessed, that were he free she would never marry him or any man, for in her trouble long ago she had vowed herself to Heaven; and with a few forcible words she showed him the plan and purpose of her future life--when Raby should have ceased to need her; drawing such calm pictures of a tender ministry and a saintly sisterhood, that Hugh, looking at her with dazzled eyes, thought he could almost discern a faint halo round her head.

”You were always too good for me, Margaret,” he muttered, but she only smiled at him, and still holding his hands as she knelt beside him, she whispered that her prayers were heard, and that she knew he would not die, that it was only his weakness, and he would soon struggle back to life again.

”But what good is life to me 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 G.o.d 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 refres.h.i.+ng 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 att.i.tude 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 baby mouth quivering, with the under lip pressed like a child's in pain, she gave an involuntary exclamation. She would not suffer, Hugh had said, she was so young and innocent; and now--the angels comfort your broken heart, sweet Fay.