Wee Wifie

eneath her

mice, stol

y feared

e dances s

pon an E

so fine

ck

walked through the narrow winding lanes t

edmond of late; his broken engagement with Margaret Ferrers had been followed by Sir Wilfred's death. Hugh's heart had been very bitter against his father, but before Sir Wilfred died there had been a few words of reconciliation. "You must not be angry with me, Hugh," the old man had said; "I did it for the best. We were both right, both she and I,-ah, she was a fine creature; but when one remembered her poor mother's end-well, we will not speak of that," and then looking wistfully at his son's moody face, he continued plaintively,

rd spoken by a friend brought

ld college friends, when one of them mentioned Daintr

"the other fellows are going back to London; it will

o escape the misery of his own thoughts. Yes, he would see the young heiress whom his father had always wished him to marry; he remembered her as a pretty child some seven or eigh

artially or wholly cured-perhaps to love again, this time more happily. But with Hugh the time had not yet come. He was terribly tenacious in his attachments, but just then anger against Margaret had for a little time swallowed up love. He said to himself that he would forget her yet-that he would not let an

ight of the little Gothic cottage with its circul

autumn would be rich with waving corn, closed in by dark woods, beyond which lay the winding invisible river. As Hugh came up

wn, Nero! down, good dog!" exclaimed a fresh young voice; "now we must race fairly," and the next moment t

en turn in the shrubberies brought th

k off his hat suddenly in some surprise, for it was no child, but an exceedin

ature she was; no wonder he had taken her at first sight for a child; her stature was hardly more than that a well-g

h a beautifully proportioned figure, as graceful a

t all startled; but of course Nero and I would hardly have had that race if we had known any one was in the shrubbery. Have you los

am afraid he is rather rough sometimes; he nearly knocked you down just now in his play. I see you

went away. It must be very lonely for you at the Hall," and she glanced at his deep mourning, and then at the handsome face that was looking so kindly at her. What a grand-looking man he was, she thought; it must ha

him with daisy chains and driven him up and down the bowling-green, while her father laughed at them from the terrace-what a merry little child she used to be-and Hugh Redmond had been a splendid playfellow;

red in the porch, and seemed much surprised at Hugh's apparition. "Auntie, Sir Hugh Redmond has come to see us,"

appearance with some anxiety, as he sa

ot expect her to grow bigger; girls seldom grew after sixteen, and Fay was more than sixteen. Colonel Mordaunt had left very few instructions in his will about his little daughter. His sister was appointed her personal guardian until she came of age or married; there was a liberal allowance for maintenance and education; but Colonel Mordaunt was a man of simple habits, and Fay had never been accustomed to either ostentation or luxury; one day she

their rambles in the highest spirits; the basket of wild flowers that graced the breakfast-table had been all gathered and arranged by Fay's pretty fingers. After breakfast there were all her pets to visit-to feed the doves and chickens and canaries-to give Fairy her corn, and to look after the brindled cow and th

in her way, but she never sought it of her own accord. Neither she nor Aunt Griselda were intellectual women. Fay played a little, sung charmingly, filled her sketchbook

tive riches, her secluded nun-like life surrounded her with a certain mystery of attraction. Miss Mordaunt had been much exercised of late by the fact that one or two families in the environs of Daintree had tried to force themselves into intimacy with the ladies of the cottage; sundry young men, too, had made their appearance in the little church at Daintree, as it seemed with the express intention of staring at Fay. One of these, Frank Lumsden, had gone further-he had

about her lovely little niece. Miss Mordaunt could be garrulous on the subject of Fay's perfections-she looked upon Hugh Redmond as the suitor whom her brother would have chosen. Before long Hugh heard all about Frank Lumsden

boy," Aunt Griselda observed, plaintively;

ad all these impertinent fellows to be staring at Fay in church? He should like to send them all about their ow

them in the porch, and had sat down demurely by Aunt Griselda, and had busied hersel

red with soft curly brown hair, that waved naturally over the temples. It was coiled gr

ek. It was the prettiest dimple he had ever seen, and he caught himself trying to say something that would bring it again. Hugh paid a long visit, and in a few days he came

, and Fay looked shyly pleased; and so it

y in her canters through the lanes, and found fault with Fairy, much to her little mistress's dismay; but Fay blushed very prettily when

airy is not half good enough for you;" and Fay was obliged to own that she had never had such a ride before;

know," Hugh said, as he lifted Fay to the ground; but Fay had only tried

her. The girl's innocent beauty-her sweet face and fresh ripple of talk-came soothingly to the jaded man. He began to feel an interest in the gentle unsophisticated

d dissatisfied, and miserable; perhaps, after all, she might rest and comfort him. He was already very fond of her; by and by, when h

to demand from the man who offers himself as her husband; but he put away the thought from him. He was a Redmond, and it was his duty to marry; he had grown very fond of th

little child! she hardly knew how to answer him; but Hugh, who had caught a glimpse of the happy blushing face, was very gentle and patient with her shyness, and presently won from her the answer he wanted. She did li

m that Fay adored him from the depths of her innocent heart; he could read

ittle imprisoned princess ever watched her knight more proudly than Fay did when Hugh rode away on his big black mare. He was like a king, sh

ere married in the little church at Daintree, and as Hugh looked down on his child-wife, something like compunction seized him, and from th