“Why, when did you see him?” asked the squire, with some surprise.
Olivia flushed crimson, and she covered her face with her hands as she whispered, “I—I saw him, with the fieldglass, from one of the windows!”
The squire could not suppress a smile, as he put her from him.
“And I always thought you were proud,” he said.
“I’m—I’m the meanest creature in existence,” she said, piteously, as she ran out of the room.
The squire walked down to The Dell, gravely thoughtful, but serene and resigned.
He found Clydesfold walking to and fro in the little front garden, smoking his pipe.
“It has come, Clydesfold,” he said, putting the letter in his hand.
Clydesfold read it, then nodded.
“What will you do?” he asked. “What does she say?”