"Send the telegram, father," she said.
"That's right, Olive," said John Castlemaine as he left the room.
"I can't realise it, I can't realise it," she said when he was gone. "It is all so strange, so terribly strange. Even now I can't feel that he is dead."
Later, however, her doubts were removed. Papers came containing the reports of the inquest, and then of the funeral. Radford Leicester was dead, and thus gone out of her life for ever.
"I am glad I've been able to buy that place," said John Castlemaine to himself as he watched her face. "She'll be able to forget him amidst new scenes; besides, she's eager to work among the poor in the village."
A few days later they started for their new home.
CHAPTER XVIII
OLIVE'S LIFE IN DEVONSHIRE
By the middle of May John Castlemaine and his daughter had settled at Vale Linden, an old family mansion situated amidst beautiful and romantic scenery. Even Devonshire, the garden of England, had no more attractive place to offer. From the front of the house Olive could see a wide panorama of beautiful country. Immediately beyond the lawns stretched the park, dotted with giant trees, such as can be seen only in the southern and western counties of England. Beyond the park was a fine undulating country of wooded dells and rich pasture land. Here and there she could see the farmsteads nestling amongst the trees, while still beyond was the vast stretch of the moors, fast becoming a great blaze of golden and purple glory. Everywhere the birds sang gaily, while the air was filled with the perfume of flowers.