Dr. Martin listened to Mrs. Heron’s account with a very grave face the next morning, but he chose to make light of the whole affair to Fay.
“You hardly deserve to be told that this escapade of yours, Lady Redmond, has done our patient no harm,” he observed, in a half-joking voice. “Sir Hugh is quieter to-day—much quieter. I should not be surprised if there be decided improvement in a few hours, but,” as Fay’s eyes filled with tears of thankfulness, “it was a very risky thing to do, and as you deserve to be punished for it, I must insist that these ponies of yours, who are eating their heads off with idleness, shall be put in harness at once, and you will please take a long drive that will not bring you within sight of Redmond Hall for the next two hours.”
Fay laughed at the doctor’s grim face, but she was ready to promise him obedience if Hugh were better; she was quite willing to take the drive; she rang and ordered the ponies at once, and took the reins in her own hands. The fresh spring sunshine was delicious; the soft breezes seemed laden with messages of hope. Dr. Martin was right when he ordered that drive. Fay’s little pale face looked less miserable as she restrained her ponies’ frolics. She found herself listening to the birds and noticing the young spring foliage with her old interest as they drove through the leafy lanes. Fay had just turned her ponies’ heads toward the winding road that led straight to the shore, when the frisky little animals shied playfully at a lady in a gray cloak who was standing by the hedge looking at a nest of young linnets. As she turned Fay saw that it was Miss Ferrers, and involuntarily checked her ponies, and at the same moment Miss Ferrers stepped into the road.
“Oh, Lady Redmond,” she said, and Fay wondered why she was so pale. Had she been ill too? “This is a most unexpected pleasure. May I—may I”—hesitating for a moment, “ask you to stop and speak to me?”
“Certainly,” returned Fay; and with quick impulse she handed the reins to the groom, and sprung into the road. “Take the ponies up and down, Ford; I shall not be long. I was just going down on the beach for a breath of sea-air,” she continued, turning to Margaret, “and I am so glad I have met you, because we can go together,” for she thought Hugh would certainly not mind her exchanging a few courteous words with Miss Ferrers when they met face to face; besides Miss Ferrers had asked to speak to her.
“I wanted to know—but of course I see by your face—that Sir Hugh is better,” began Margaret, but her dry lips would hardly fashion the words.
“Oh, yes,” returned Fay, eagerly. “Doctor Martin says he is quieter, much quieter, this morning, and he hopes to find decided improvement in a few hours; oh, Miss Ferrers, it has been such a terrible time, I do not know how I have lived through it.”
“It must have been dreadful for you, and you are looking ill yourself, Lady Redmond,” with a pitying glance at the small white face that looked smaller and thinner since she saw it last.
“I do not know how I have been,” returned Fay, simply. “I seemed to have no feeling, the time passed somehow, it was always meal-time, and one could not eat, and then night came, but it was not always possible to sleep. I was always wandering about, and it did not seem easy to pray, and then they came and told me it was wrong to grieve so, but how could I help it?”
“Was there no one to come to you, to be with you, I mean?” but Fay shook her head.