Fay’s cheeks were quite pink when she bade Erle goodnight; her eyes shining like stars. Oh, these dear people, she thought, how strange and sad it all was, and yet how interesting; she had made Erle describe this Crystal over and over again. She must be an odd girl, she thought—so passionate and so undisciplined, and to think she was living with the other one, with the fair hair and the pretty smile; but when she had said this there had been no answering smile on Erle’s face.
“Yes,” he had returned, seriously, “I have often wondered to see them such friends; they are so utterly dissimilar. Fern—Miss Trafford, I mean—is gentle and yielding—more like you, Fay; and Miss Ferrers—as I suppose I ought to call her—is so high-spirited and proud. I often wonder how Percy dares to make love to her, but he seems to dare anything.”
Well, Fay thought about it all when she went to bed; she had got used to her big shadowy room by this time; she lay wide awake watching the fire-light flicker and dance on the walls; how odd that people who loved each other so much should misunderstand each other so strangely; of course Crystal loved this grand-looking Raby, and yet of her own accord she was hiding from him; and Fay thrilled with pity and affectionate sympathy, as she pondered over the sad story. She tried to tell Hugh when he returned the next day, but he was too busy or else unwilling to listen to her.
“Yes, I know all about it—I never cared very much for the girl,” he said, hastily; and then, as Fay looked intensely surprised, he added rather irritably:
“I told you we were old friends once, and of course I saw Miss Crystal when I visited at the Grange; she was never my taste—handsome, of course, but one could see she had a bit of the devil in her—she had a temper of her own if you like; and Mr. Ferrers spoiled her; he was terribly infatuated—I dare say he is still—men will be fools sometimes. There, don’t keep me talking, Fay; of course every one in Sandycliffe and Singleton knows the story. I am not so sure that it was not wise of the girl to run away, after all.”
“Hugh must have been very intimate with them all,” thought Fay when she was left alone. “How I wish he were not always too busy to talk to me. Erle says he is sure he is killing himself rushing about as he does, and he does look terribly ill. I wish he would see Dr. Martin, but of course my asking him to do so would only make him angry. It is very wrong of me, I am afraid; but I can not help longing to know why Hugh has quarreled with them so. I don’t like to vex him, but it seems to me as though I have a right to know all that concerns my husband”— and Fay’s throat swelled and her eyes grew a little dim. “Perhaps when something happens he will think me older and talk to me more,” she said; and though she was alone a rosy flush came over her face.
Fay was very sorry when the time came for Erle to go back to Belgrave House; she would miss him sadly she knew. They had resumed their old walks and drives, and Fay paid visits to Bonnie Bess in her stable, and taught the pretty creature to follow her over the place like a dog.
Erle was sorry to go too; he had grown very much attached to his new cousin. Mr. Ferrers was to join him a little later at Belgrave House, and he promised to write and give her full particulars of their visit to Beulah Place. In his heart he had a secret longing to feel Fern’s hand in his again, and to see her bright welcoming smile. “I have been here a whole month,” he grumbled; “no wonder Hugh is tired of me by this time.”
Fay was rather surprised then to receive a letter from him two or three days afterward telling her that Mr. Ferrers’s visit was indefinitely postponed.
“Everything has gone wrong,” he wrote; “and the fates, those mischievous cross-grained old women with the one eye between them, are dead against us.