“Oh, but I think you did, Bessie,” said Olivia.
The girl shook her head, and the color came into her pale, childlike face.
“I couldn’t thank him long enough, miss. He did save my life, though he made light of it, and put it off as nothing at all. Toby had bolted, and was racing like the wind, and the gentleman—tell me his name again, miss; it is a hard one to remember, and yet it sounds nice——”
“Faradeane,” said Olivia.
“Ah, yes, Faradeane! I shan’t forget it. Well, miss, he came out of the cottage, straight like a lion, and he leaped onto Toby. I could just see him before I fainted, and Toby knocked him down, and I thought he was killed, and then—I don’t recollect any more till he carried me in here. He said he wasn’t hurt, miss; but I saw the blood running from his forehead.” She shuddered. “Ah, miss, if I were a lady like you I could thank him as he deserves; but I’m only a poor girl that doesn’t know how to speak what she feels.”
“I think you thanked him very prettily, Bessie,” said Olivia. “But I don’t think he wanted or liked being thanked. He would not stop to speak to papa, outside, just now.”
A swift look of apprehension rose to Bessie’s eyes.
“Ah, miss, he was hurt, and was trying to hide it; he didn’t want the squire to see. Oh, Miss Olivia, what shall I do? There is no one there to see after him.”
Olivia soothed her, and returned to the squire.
“Bessie thinks Mr. Faradeane was hurt, badly perhaps—and that was the reason he did not stay, papa,” she said, with a little catch in her voice.