Margery was in Rome when this letter reached her. She read it through slowly, then, with a faint smile, folded it and put it away. It was not in keeping with her generous nature to bear malice, so she replied to Mrs. Crosbie’s epistle with a few words of acknowledgment written in a kindly spirit. Margery received another letter at about the same time which brought a flush of sincere pleasure to her face. It was written by Miss Lawson in the name of the villagers of Hurstley, offering Lady Court warm expressions of affection, respect and esteem from all her old friends, and at the head of the list of names were the signatures of Farmer Bright and his wife; Miss Lawson’s own letter explained everything. Just after the news of Margery’s parentage was made public to the village, a letter came from Robert Bright in Australia, from which his mother gathered how unjustly she had wronged Margery in her hasty suspicions; and, eager to make atonement, the good woman had headed the village letter with her name. Robert spoke of returning almost immediately, so Margery’s heart was lighter on that score. Miss Lawson’s words of joy at her dear child’s prosperity and happiness brought tears to Margery’s eyes; but they were tears of gratitude and affection, not of pain.
She was strangely peaceful and content now; the memory of Stuart’s supposed deception and insults, which had rankled so long in her breast, was gone; she remembered only that his love for her had never faltered. Her girlhood was buried in her short love-dream; she was a woman now, brave and determined to fight the battle of life gallantly to the end. She looked to her husband as a guide and a comforter and he tended her with more than a husband’s care. A great, true affection had sprung up in her heart for him; he was so tender, so good, so manly! In her gratitude for all his thought and care she vowed always to keep a smile for him while the secret of her love should be locked from his sight forever. Sometimes she would sink into a reverie, then wake, to find his eyes fixed on her with such intensity, such an agony of love and pain in them, that it would startle her; but as she looked the expression would fade and the smile would come, the tender, grave smile that she knew so well. When Mrs. Crosbie’s second letter came, begging the earl and countess to pay her a visit, it was he who replied; and, as if divining her secret thoughts, he wrote that his wife regretted she was unable to visit Crosbie Castle at present.
They had left the manor almost immediately after Stuart’s departure. Lord Court suggested a short tour of the Continent and Margery eagerly agreed; so they crossed the Channel without delay. But, as the winter slipped away, it occurred to Margery that she should visit her inheritance, Beecham Park. So, bidding farewell to the clear blue skies and the world of delights that had been opened to her, they returned to England.
Beecham Park was a huge, gloomy mansion, so deserted and solitary-looking that, as they drove up the magnificent avenue of chestnuts, Margery involuntarily shuddered. Sir Eustace Gerant had neglected the estate, and, splendid though the building was within, it did not bring the pleasure to its owner that Court Manor had.
“Are you disappointed, my darling?” asked the earl one morning, after watching her carefully.
“It is very grand; the grounds and woods are beautiful; but it is not home,” she answered, with a sigh.
However, there was much to be done—for they found that the steward, who had had sole control of the estate, had neglected his duties most disgracefully; so, placing all authority in the hands of her husband, Margery turned her attention to the village near, burying all regrets and vain hopes that assailed her in untiring work on behalf of her tenants.
It was a weary trial at times, for, though she had courage, her strength would occasionally fail, and her heart would yearn for the love she had lost; but none knew of this struggle but herself—she had learned to control her emotions and smile when the burden was heaviest.
“’Tis strange with how much power and pride
The softness is of love allied.