A look of relief crossed the lovely face.
“Thank God!” she breathed. “I—I thought—I dreamed—ah!” and she made an effort to rise. “Where is he?”
“Hush, hush, my darling!” said the poor squire. “He is downstairs in the library.”
She sank back, and her lips quivered.
“In the library. Here, and—and safe! Ah, what a dreadful dream!”
“Bartley is safe, quite safe, of course, dear,” he said, soothingly.
She started, and her eyes dilated, as they fixed themselves on his face.
“Bartley Bradstone! Is he here? Father!” and her voice rang with an awful dread. “You will not let him take me away, you will not——”
“No, no, no, dear!” said Bessie, quick to divine her fear. “No one shall take you!”
She sank back again, but tossed her head from one side to the other, her eyes glittering feverishly.