“I thought you might have remembered,” she said. “I will come in one moment, papa. I must just see Bessie again.”
“All right, I am in no hurry,” said the squire, and he sat down on the settle outside the door, and instantly, as it would seem, was absorbed by his own thoughts.
Olivia ran upstairs on tiptoe, and entered Bessie’s room.
The girl turned her large, innocent eyes upon the lovely face of her young mistress with eager gratitude.
“Not gone yet, miss?” she said in a low voice.
“Not yet, Bessie. Are you better?”
“I am all right now, Miss Olivia; only weak and trembling like. Has—has the gentleman gone?”
“Mr. Faradeane? Yes,” said Olivia, and she leaned down and smoothed the white coverlid.
Bessie drew a long breath.
“And I scarcely thanked him!” she said.