“Very well, then, I will take myself off,” in rather a huffy tone, but he relented at the sight of her pale little face, and some of his bad humor evaporated. “The fact is, you are such a child that you don’t know how to take care of yourself,” he continued, sitting down by her, and letting her rest comfortably against him. “You will do yourself a mischief some day, Fay. I shall get Doctor Martin to come up and see your foot, and then, perhaps, he will give you a lecture.”
“Oh, no,” she returned, charmed at this change of tone, for his anger had frightened her; “there is no need for that, dear, it is only a sprained ankle, and Miss Ferrers has bandaged it so beautifully, a day or two’s rest will put it all right.”
“But all the same, I should like to have Doctor Martin’s opinion,” he answered, quickly. “I am afraid you must have found it very awkward, Fay, being cast on the compassion of strangers.”
“Oh, no, indeed,” was the eager answer; “they were so good and kind to me, Hugh; they welcomed me just as though I were an old friend. I was a little faint at first, my foot hurt me so; but when I opened my eyes, I found myself in such a lovely old room, on such an easy couch, and Miss Ferrers gave me some wine, and actually bathed my foot and bound it up herself.”
“What sort of a room was it, Wee Wifie?”
Fay thought there was something odd in her husband’s voice, but she had her head on his shoulder, and could not see his face, the winter dusk was creeping over the room, and only the fire-light illumined it. Hugh felt himself safe to put that question, but he could not quite control his voice.
“Oh, it was Miss Ferrers’s morning-room, she told me so, and it had a bay window with a cushioned seat overlooking the garden. Oh, how lovely Miss Ferrers is, Hugh. I have never seen any one like her, never. I am sure she is as sweet and good as an angel, only I wish she did not look so sad: there were tears in her eyes once when we were talking; let me see, what were we talking about? oh, about those cottages you are building, she did look so interested—did you speak, dear?”
“No—go on,” he said, huskily; but if only Fay could have seen his face.
“I feel I should love her so if I could only see more of her. I could not help kissing her when I came away, but she did not seem at all surprised. Mr. Ferrers wished me God-speed in such a nice way, too. Oh, they are dear people; I do wish you would let me know them, Hugh.”
“My dear child, it is impossible,” but Hugh spoke fast and nervously; “have I not already explained to you that there can be no intimacy between Redmond Hall and the Grange. When old friends quarrel as we have, it is a fatal blow to all friendship.”