“Have you seen--Mr. Faradeane lately?” she said, coldly. Bessie looked up quickly; no tone or accent of her mistress’ beloved voice could escape her. “No, miss; not here at the lodge--that is, I’ve seen him at a distance riding and walking. He’s been ill, miss--very ill, I’m afraid.” “What has been the matter with him?” asked Olivia, in a constrained voice, as she drew the shawl round her. Bessie got up and knelt beside her, and fastened it. “I don’t know--nobody seems to know. He didn’t leave the cottage for some days, and nobody saw him. Father called, but the servant wouldn’t let him see him, and simply said his master was ill and he had instructions to let no one in. Father would have taken upon himself to send for the doctor, but he knew it would be no use. Mr. Faradeane is like iron, miss, when he says a thing.” “Well?” said Olivia, with suppressed anxiety. “Well, then he came out and I saw him riding. He wasn’t like the same man, miss, so pale and worn-like he looked. Father says he has had some great trouble, he’s sure; but I can’t think what it can be, can you?” “No; how should I know, Bessie?” responded Olivia, almost sternly. Bessie sighed. “No, miss,” she assented, meekly. “I suppose nothing can be done--I mean to help him, if he is ill or in trouble. I’d”--her pretty face flushed, and her voice quivered--“I’d walk a hundred miles barefoot to serve him----” She stopped and restrained herself. “But I’m only a poor, ignorant girl, miss, and can’t do anything. What seems so dreadful is his loneliness. From week’s end to week’s end no one goes near him, now that Lord Bertie has gone away. He was the only friend he had, father says.” Olivia rose and put on her hat. “Mr. Faradeane does not wish for any friends, Bessie,” she said, speaking with an air of indifference. “I am sorry he has been ill, and glad that he is better. As for any trouble, I don’t know----” She stopped. “I must go now, Bessie. You must come up to the Grange; there are some dresses I want you to look over.” “Yes, miss,” said Bessie, obediently, and, taking up her hat, followed her to the gate. “Where are you going, Bessie?” asked Olivia. “With you to the Grange, miss,” replied Bessie, firmly. “Indeed you shall not,” said Olivia. “But I mean to, miss,” retorted Bessie, steadily. “You’ve been frightened already to-night, and that’s quite enough. I am coming to take care of you.” Olivia regarded the slim, girlish figure with a laugh. “Why, you silly child, and who is to take care of you coming back alone?” “I can take care of myself, miss,” said Bessie, firmly. “Go in at once,” commanded Olivia. “Do you think I am afraid to run up our own drive? Why, what a coward you must think me.” “I mean to go----” began Bessie, more firmly than before, when both girls were startled into silence by the sound of a third voice. “I will go with Miss Olivia, if she will let me, Bessie,” it said.