FAY'S DILEMMA.
Blessing she is; God made her so;
And deeds of week-day holiness
Fall from her noiseless as the snow;
Nor hath she ever chanced to know
That aught were easier than to bless.
LOWELL.
And through the windows of her eyes
We often saw her saintly soul,
Serene, and sad, and sorrowful,
Go sorrowing for lost Paradise.
GERALD MASSY.
A few days after that Fay met with a slight accident.
The snow had been falling very heavily all night, and when Fay went to
the window the next morning, she looked out on a white world, and not
a vestige of the blue ice could be seen for the drifts that lay heaped
on the little lake.
She called Hugh to look out with her. "What a pity," she said,
sorrowfully; "for we had asked the Romney girls and the Spooners to
come up and skate this afternoon. Erle is so fond of young ladies, and
he admires Dora Spooner immensely, and now I suppose there will be no
skating."
"Of course the men could sweep the snow away fast enough," returned
Hugh, with a hasty glance at the glorious prospect outside; there were
tiny bird tracks on the white surface, some brown sparrows and a robin
were hopping across the snow. Not a breath stirred the laden branches,
though they drooped under their snowy festoons. "I dare say the ice
would be right enough for a little while, but the air feels milder,
and there is danger of a thaw."
"Never mind, we will see how it is to-morrow, and Erle shall take me
for a walk instead. I suppose," a little plaintively, "you will be too
busy to come too?"
"Oh, yes, far too busy," Hugh assured her, as he seated himself at the
breakfast-table and commenced opening his letters. Fay read hers--a
few notes--and then sat silent behind her silver urn until Erle
sauntered lazily into the room, and then she brightened up and began
to talk.
"I think I will send off a note to the vicarage, and ask Dora and the
others to come all the same, and we will have a nice walk this
morning--that is, if you do not mind, Hugh," looking at the handsome
abstracted face bent over the paper; but she had to repeat her
question before it reached Hugh's ear.
"Oh, no! it does not matter to me," he answered, indifferently. "Ask
whom you like, Fay. The Spooners and Romneys, did you say? Oh! by all
means, if you want them;" but it may be doubted whether he ever heard
her thanks as he buried himself in his paper again.
The dogs were delighted at the prospect of a walk, when Fay consulted
them; so a merry party started down the avenue--Fay in her furs and
little sealskin hat, which made her look more a child than ever, and
Erle in that wonderful coat of his, lined with sable, and the two big
dogs racing on before them, and plowing with their noses in the deep
cold snow.
They had walked about two miles, and were thoroughly enjoying
themselves, when all at once Fay slipped.
How it happened neither of them had any idea. Fay was sure-footed, she
skimmed over the frozen snow as lightly as a bird. Erle never had to
offer her any assistance--he would as soon have thought of helping a
robin. It must have been orange-peel, as Fay suggested--only neither
of them saw any--but all the same, just as Erle was walking calmly
along, striking carelessly at the branches with his dandy cane, and
Fay chattering and laughing in her usual fashion, all at once she
slipped, and her foot seemed to double up under her, and she sunk down
comfortably on the snow, only with rather a pale face.
It was very awkward and embarrassing, a most unfortunate circumstance,
as they were two miles from Redmond Hall, and there was Fay protesting
that she did not think she could stand, much less walk; and when Erle
knelt down to examine the dainty little foot, and touched it lightly,
Fay turned still paler, and uttered a little cry, but the next moment
she laughed.
"I am afraid I have sprained my ankle. It was very silly and awkward
of me, and I can not think how it happened. No, it is not so very
painful, unless I try to move. What are we to do, Erle?"
"That is just what I don't know," he returned, disconsolately, looking
down the lane, while the two dogs gazed wistfully into his face, as
though they were quite aware of the dilemma, and felt very sorry for
their little mistress. "I suppose you could not ride on Pierre's back,
you are hardly small enough for that; and with all my good will I am
afraid I should not succeed in carrying you two miles--these furs are
heavy, Fay--and yet how am I to leave you sitting in the snow while I
go in search of help. I suppose," with another look, that only landed
him in plowed fields, "there is not a house near, and yet this is one
of the Sandycliffe lanes."
"I don't think we are far from the Grange--that curious old red-brick
house we passed the other day. This lane leads to the Sandycliffe
road, and I expect we are not a quarter of a mile from the village."
"All right," responded Erie, cheerfully; "I can carry you as far as
that easily."
"Oh! but we must not go to the Grange," returned Fay, in rather a
regretful voice. She was suffering a good deal of pain with her foot,
her boot hurt her so, but she would not make a fuss. "The Ferrers are
the only people who have not called on us, and Hugh would not like me
to go there."
"Nonsense," replied Erie, impatiently; "what does that matter in a
case like this. I suppose you think that good Samaritan ought to have
left his card first before he helped that poor traveler?"
Fay tried to laugh, but it was rather an effort. "You do not
understand," she said, gently; "Hugh used to know the Ferrers, and he
says they are very nice people; he is the blind vicar of Sandycliffe,
and his sister lives with him. I do not know whether they are old or
young; but Hugh said that he had had a misunderstanding with them, and
that it would be very awkward to renew the acquaintance; he does not
wish me to visit them."
"Perhaps not. I dare say the Samaritan and the unfortunate traveler
were not on visiting terms afterward, but under the present agreeable
circumstances we must certainly avail ourselves of the first shelter
that offers itself. Hugh would quite approve of my advice, and in his
absence must allow me to judge for you;" and there was a slight
peremptoriness in Erle's voice, to which Fay yielded, for she offered
no resistance when he lifted her from the ground with his old playful
smile.
Fay was very small and light, but her furs were heavy; still, Erle was
strong and wiry, and he carried her easily enough--he actually had
breath to joke too--while the two dogs bounded before him barking
joyously, and actually turning in at the Grange gates of their own
accord--at least Pierre did, and Nero followed him.
Erle looked up curiously at the old red-brick house, with its
picturesque gables and mullioned windows, and then, as he deposited
Fay on the stone seat inside the porch, and was just raising his hand
to the knocker, the door opened, and a very tall man in clerical dress
appeared suddenly on the threshold. Erle's hand fell to his side, and
he and Fay exchanged puzzled glances; it must be Mr. Ferrers, they
thought, and of course he did not know any one was there. He stood
with his face turned to the wintery sunshine, and his grand
massive-looking head bowed a little. The next moment Pierre jumped up
and licked his hands, and tried to put his huge paws on his shoulder,
whining with delight. Mr. Ferrers started slightly. "Why, Pierre, my
fine fellow, I ought to know that rough greeting of yours by this
time; it is a long time since you have called at the Grange; whom have
you brought with you, Pierre?" stroking the dog's noble head.
Erle came forward at once. "My cousin, Lady Redmond, has met with
rather an awkward accident in one of the lanes--she has sprained her
ankle, and is in great pain; may I lift her on that comfortable
oak-settle by the hall fire while I go in search of help. I am Sir
Hugh's cousin, Erle Huntingdon."
"Lady Redmond," ejaculated Mr. Ferrers; and Fay wondered at the sudden
shadow that passed over her host's fine face. "Oh, yes, bring her in,
Mr. Huntingdon, but we must find a softer couch than the oak-settle.
Margaret--where are you, Margaret?" and the next moment a clear,
pleasant voice answered, "I am here, Raby;" and a tall,
graceful-looking woman, with dead-brown hair and calm beautiful face,
crossed the long hall. Fay seemed to see her coming through a sort of
haze, and she put out her hands involuntarily; Margaret's voice
changed as she took them. "Ah, poor child, she is faint. Will you
bring her into my morning-room, Mr. Huntingdon, there is an easy couch
there, and a nice fire;" and Margaret led the way to a pleasant room
with an old-fashioned bay window overlooking the sunny lawn and
yew-tree walk; and then took off the little sealskin hat with hands
that trembled slightly, and laid the pretty head with its softly
ruffled hair on the cushions, and then put some wine to Fay's lips.
Fay roused herself and drank some obediently, and a little color came
back to her face. "It is my foot, the boot hurts it so," she said,
faintly.
"Yes, because it is so swelled," returned Miss Ferrers, in a
sympathizing voice. "Mr. Huntingdon, if you will ring the bell I will
ask my maid for some hot water. I think that will relieve Lady
Redmond; and if you will kindly join my brother, you will find him
outside. Ruth and I will soon make your cousin more comfortable;" and
Erle at once took the hint.
The dainty little boot was sadly mangled before they could get it off,
and Miss Ferrers uttered a pitying exclamation at the sight of the
inflamed and swelled ankle. The hot fomentation was deliciously
soothing, and Miss Ferrers's manipulations so soft and skillful that
Fay was not sorry that her little protest was made without success.
"Don't you think your maid could do this? I do not like to trouble you
so much," she said once, in a deprecating voice.
"It is no trouble," returned Margaret, fixing her beautiful eyes for a
moment on Fay's pale face; "I like to do it for you, Lady Redmond."
Yes, she liked to do it; it gave her a strange pleasure to minister to
her innocent rival, Hugh's wife. As Fay's little white foot rested in
her hand, all at once a scene arouse before her mind--an upper
chamber, where a mild majestic Figure rose from among His wondering
disciples and "girded Himself with a towel."
Ineffable condescension, divine humility, uniting for all ages the law
of service and kindly ministration; bidding men to do likewise, and to
wash the feet of sinners.
Margaret had stolen many a look at the pale little face resting on the
cushions. What a baby face it was, she thought, and yet wonderfully
pretty too; and then, as she bent over her work again, a quick
throbbing pain that was almost agony, and that made her look as pale
as Fay, seemed to stifle her. Hugh, her Hugh; ah, heavens! what was
she thinking? another woman's husband could be nothing to her!
"Men are all alike," she thought, sadly; "even the best of them
forget. Well, he is content with her now--with this little piece of
innocent baby-faced loveliness. Yes," interrupting herself, sternly,
"and I ought to thank God on my knees that he is content--my own Hugh,
whom I love better than myself;" and she looked so gently and kindly
at Fay that the little thing was quite pleased and grateful.
"Oh, how good you are to me," exclaimed Fay, gratefully; "and now
beautifully you have bandaged my foot. It feels so much more
comfortable. What a sweet old room this is, Miss Ferrers. I do like
that cushioned window-seat running round the bay; and oh, what lovely
work," raising herself to look at an ecclesiastical carpet that was
laid on the ground, perfectly strewn with the most beautiful colors,
like a delicate piece of mosaic work. Mr. Ferrers, who had entered the
room that moment, smiled at the sound of the enthusiastic young voice.
"What colors," cried Fay, delightedly; "what purples, and crimsons,
and violets. They look like clusters of jewels, or stars on a
deep-blue ground."
Mr. Ferrers stooped down and touched the carpet with his large white
hand.
"It is for our little church, and by all accounts it must be gorgeous.
The description makes me fancy it like the robe of office that Aaron
wore. It has a border of pomegranates, I know. Ah, color is one of my
sister's hobbies. She agrees with Ruskin in connecting brilliant
coloring with purity of mind and nobility of thought. I believe if she
had her way she would wear those same crimsons and emeralds herself."
Margaret smiled indulgently. "You must not believe my brother, Lady
Redmond. I am very simple in my tastes, but I love to see them on
others;" and she looked at Fay's ruby dress. She had removed the heavy
furred mantle, and she thought Lady Redmond looked move like a lovely
child than ever in her little closely fitting gown.
"Where is my cousin, Mr. Ferrers?" she asked, with some surprise, as
he placed himself in a carved arm-chair that stood near the couch.
"Mr. Huntingdon has started off for Redmond Hall. He was afraid your
husband might have returned and would be feeling anxious. He will come
back in the carriage to fetch you; but as it is rather a long way by
the road, and the snow is very deep, you must not look for him for
another two hours. Margaret, luncheon is ready; I am going to tell
Ruth to bring some up for Lady Redmond."
Fay was not sorry to have a little longer rest. She was very
comfortable lying in this pleasant sunny room, and she had fallen in
love with Miss Ferrers.
When they had left her to partake of the dainty little luncheon
brought to her, she thought a great deal about the beautiful face that
looked so pale and sad, and yet so kind. Had she known trouble, she
wondered; she was quite young, and yet there was no look of youth
about her. One would never speak of her as a girl, for example--she
was much too grave and staid for that; but what a sweet voice she had,
very low and harmonious, and yet so clear.
Fay had forgotten her husband for the moment. Erle would explain
everything to him, and of course he could not be vexed. What a
tiresome thing that this misunderstanding had arisen. She must coax
Hugh to put it right. She liked Miss Ferrers better than any of her
neighbors. It made her feel good only to look at her.
She wondered if she could venture to hint about the estrangement, or
to say how sorry she was that anything should keep them apart. She had
not quite made up her mind about it when the brother and sister
returned, and Mr. Ferrers asked her playfully if she meant to take a
nap, or whether they should stay and talk to her.
"Oh, I would rather talk, please," with a wistful look at Margaret,
who had taken up her work, and placed herself near the window. She
wished she would not go so far away; but perhaps she wanted more
light. But Mr. Ferrers had taken possession of the arm-chair again and
seemed quite at her service, so Fay began chatting to him in her usual
fashion.
"I have always admired this old house so," she said, brightly; "but I
was afraid I should never see the inside, because--" but here she
hesitated and hurried on. "Redmond Hall is grander and larger of
course, but this seems more homelike. I liked the hall so when the
door opened, and Erle carried me in. It seemed like church, with that
great painted window so still and solemn, and full of scented
darkness."
Margaret listened silently, but her brother answered rather sadly,
"It is always full of scented darkness to me, Lady Redmond, and a
darkness that may be felt; but of course I know what you mean, for the
whole house is full of the perfume of Margaret's flowers. Sometimes
our friends declare that they can smell them half-way down the road,
but that is nonsense. Still flowers are my sister's hobby; she can not
live without having them about her."
"A very harmless hobby, Raby!"
"Oh, it is a pretty fancy enough," he answered, smiling. "If you could
walk, Lady Redmond, Margaret would show you our winter garden; the
gallery upstairs is a perfect conservatory, and we walk up and down
there on wet days, and call it our in-door garden."
"What a nice idea, and you live together in this dear old house; how
delightful!"
Raby's smile grew perceptibly sadder.
"We were not always alone. What is it Longfellow says?
"'There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair.'
But, as you say, we live together, the old bachelor and old maiden
brother and sister."
"Miss Ferrers is not an old maid," returned Fay, indignantly, on whom
Margaret's stately presence had made a deep impression. "You ought not
to speak so of your sister."
"Do you like the name of unappropriated blessing better, as I heard an
unmarried lady called once?" he asked, in an amused voice; "but, no,
that would not be true in Margaret's case, for her brother has
appropriated her."
A gentle smile passed over Margaret's face. "I shall be here as long
as you want me, Raby," and then, as though she would turn the subject,
she asked Fay if she read much, and which were her favorite books. But
she soon saw her mistake.
"I am afraid I am very stupid," returned Fay, blushing a little, "but
I do not care to read very much. Aunt Griselda--she was the aunt with
whom I lived until I was married--did not like me to read novels, and
heavy books send me to sleep."
"I dare say you are too busy to read," interposed Raby rather hastily;
"with such a household as yours to manage, you must be sufficiently
employed."
"Oh, but I have not so much to do after all," replied Fay, frankly.
"When I married I was terribly afraid that I should never know how to
manage properly; the thoughts of accounts especially frightened me,
because I knew my sums would not ever come right if I added them up a
dozen times."
"Ladies generally hate accounts."
"Oh, but I have none to make up," returned Fay, with a merry Laugh;
"Hugh, I mean my husband, attends to them. If I have bills I just give
them to him. And Mrs. Heron manages everything else; if there are any
orders she goes to Sir Hugh. He says I am so young to be troubled
about things, and that I don't understand how to regulate a large
household. We lived in such a tiny cottage, you see, and Aunt Griselda
never taught me anything about housekeeping."
"Yes, I see," observed Raby rather absently; he was wondering what
Margaret would say to all this.
"I never thought things would be quite so easy," went on Fay, gayly.
"Now if Hugh, I mean my husband, says two or three gentlemen are
coming to dinner, I just tell Mrs. Heron so, and she tells Ellerton,
and then everything is all right. Even when things go wrong, as they
will sometimes, Sir Hugh does all the scolding; he says I am each a
little thing that they might only laugh at me; but I tell him I shall
never be taller if I live to be an old woman."
Mr. Ferrers kept his thoughts to himself, but he said kindly, "I dare
say you find plenty of little duties for yourself, Lady Redmond."
"Oh, yes, I am always busy," returned Fay, seriously; "Mrs. Heron says
that she is sure that I shall grow thin with so much running about,
but unless I am driving or riding, or Erle is talking to me, I do
believe I am never still for many minutes at a time. Oh, I do work
sometimes, only one can not work alone, and I go to the poultry-yards
and the stables. Bonnie Bess always has a feed of corn from my hand
once a day, and there are all the animals to visit, and the
greenhouses and the hot-houses, for I do like a chat with old Morison;
and there is Catharine's dear little baby at the lodge, and the
children at the Parkers' cottage; and I like to help Janet feed and
clean my birds, because the dear little things know me. Oh, yes, the
day is not half long enough for all I have to do," finished Fay,
contentedly.