Olivia looked round thoughtfully.
“You saw him——”
“At the window. Yes; and he told his servant to say that he was not at home. I must say I was much annoyed. I am not used to rebuffs of that kind, especially from strangers. I was so irritated that I felt inclined to tell the man that I had seen his master, but I thought better of it, and left a card. I think this young fellow is acting in a very extraordinary fashion.”
Olivia seemed to ponder for a moment. “Why, dear?” she asked, in a low voice.
“Why?” repeated the squire, with the nearest approach to impatience he ever permitted himself toward his darling. “Well, first by buying The Dell in the strange way he did, and then shunning all intercourse with his neighbors in the mysterious fashion he adopts. I hate mysteries! In my opinion, there is always something shady and shameful at the bottom of them.”
“Mr. Faradeane does not look as if he had anything to be ashamed of,” she said, in the same low, thoughtful voice.
“No,” assented the squire, impatiently; “that is what puzzles me. I never saw a more gentleman-like man, or one with a more prepossessing face. But his manners and conduct——” He pulled up. “However,” he continued, “if he prefers to live a secluded and isolated life, why that is his business, not mine. I shall not call again, of course.”
“No,” said Olivia; “yet Bertie likes him.”
“Likes him? How do you know that? Oh, because he spoke up for him yesterday. I don’t know why you should say that he ‘likes’ him.”
“I watched Bertie’s face,” said Olivia, quietly.