But Olivia remained as firm over this point as she did upon the question of her trousseau. Aunt Amelia had looked forward to a visit to town, resulting in an extensive outfit, in which costly lace, and still more costly furs and tailor-made dresses should figure largely, and was proportionately disgusted when Olivia announced that she intended buying her things at Wainford, and evidently meant to confine her purchases to very narrow limits. “Really, my dear Olivia,” said Aunt Amelia, “one would think your father hadn’t a penny to bless himself with! I call it ridiculous. If you have no proper pride in your own appearance you might at least show some regard for him.” And Olivia, with an aching heart, had to meet the old lady’s reproaches with a smile. On one thing at least she was resolved--that she would not spend one single sovereign more than was absolutely necessary of the money which she knew her father could so ill spare; and perhaps the sharpest pang she endured was felt by her on the morning when he called her into the study and gave her a handsome set of pearls. “This is my present, dear,” he said, his eyes dwelling on her with tender love and pride. “Your mother’s jewels are yours by right, and I shall give them to you on the morning of your marriage; but this is my present. It is not”--he faltered for a moment--“it is not so rich as I should like, but----” She stopped him by putting her arms round his neck and drawing his worn face to hers. “Why did you buy me anything, dear?” she murmured. “I only want what I have got--your love!” and she strained him to her with an almost protecting embrace. But though the squire’s eyes filled with tears as he bent over her, hers were dry and hot, and wore a restless, feverish expression. Restless would indeed best describe her state of mind since the day had been fixed for the wedding. As Aunt Amelia said, reproachfully, it seemed as if she could not remain in one place for five minutes together, or settle to any one occupation. She wandered about the house and grounds during the day, and paced her room at night, her eyes fixed with a restless unquiet upon vacancy. But she wore the mask before the world so well that not even Faradeane could read the anguish and misery which tortured her; and if at times the ordeal through which she must pass seemed too terrible to be endured, the thought of her father and the peace she would purchase for him nerved her for the sacrifice. Meanwhile, Bartley Bradstone had filled The Maples with an army of upholsterers, and new and luxurious as the place was already, it was to be made still more gorgeous for the reception of his bride. Two days before the wedding, which was to take place on the Wednesday, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not yet got a best man; and, promoted by a malicious desire to make the most of his triumph, he proposed that Faradeane should occupy that position.