“You--you did the best for him, your friend,” she said, faintly. “Yes, I can believe that.” “Yes, I did the best,” he said, gravely, “and he has gone, I think, wisely. Before he went he exacted a promise from me. May I tell you what it was?” “Yes,” she said, simply, her eyes fixed on the ground, her heart beating in sad harmony with every word of his grave, musical voice. “It was this: Bertie’s--Lord Granville’s love for you was of that order which loves still though it can never profit by its love. Though you are lost to him, you are still the one being in the world for him, and it is not saying too much to say that he would lay down his life for you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “If he could have trusted himself he would have stayed near you to be ready at any moment, at any cost, to do you service; but he was not strong enough, his love made him weak. Miss Vanley, Bertie asked me to promise that I would, as it were, take his place--that I would be ready, should the occasion present itself, to lay my services at your feet. You smile.” “Smile!” “It sounds absurd that I should presume to tell you of such a promise, that it should be thought probable by either of us men that you, who are so fully protected--you, the daughter of the lord of the manor, should ever need any assistance. Yes, it is absurd, but I have given my promise, and now I ask you, for Bertie’s sake, to humor this farewell wish of his and permit me to remain your--friend.” She was silent. “Do not imagine that I shall think you hard or unforgiving if you refuse. I shall understand; I do understand. But if you can do so, let me consider that you permit me to keep my promise to Bertie. He would give his life for you, and I----” He stopped abruptly. “I shall never be required to prove how gladly I would do anything for you; but will you let me think that if at any time you needed me, improbable as it sounds, you would remember Bertie’s compact with me?” They had reached the terrace by this time, and the light fell full upon his face, eloquent with an expression which made its sad resignation almost noble. She turned her eyes to his, and held out her hand. “For Bertie’s sake,” she said, in a low voice. He held her hand in his firmly, not pressing it. “It is a compact,” he said, gravely. “Believe me, I will keep it. If ever the time should come----” He stopped abruptly, for the window was flung open, and Bartley Bradstone came out hurriedly. “It’s--it’s thoughtless and--and cruel of her,” they heard him say, angrily. “Out at this time of night and alone----” “My dear Bartley,” said the squire’s quiet voice, “Olivia has been so accustomed to wandering about the place since she was a child.” “Oh, ah, yes, that’s all very well; but it’s different now,” retorted Bartley Bradstone; “things are altered. She ought to remember that she’s going to be my wife, and----”