“Why, Faradeane, this is--isn’t this rather too big a present for my little girl?” he said, with a smile, but a grateful and affectionate light in his eyes. “If she had been a princess, instead of the daughter of a country squire, you could not have been more generous.” “Miss Olivia is a princess to all of us, sir,” he said in the half-sad and melodious voice which rendered even his commonplaces significant. “It is an old relic I have had by me for some time, and I thought that Miss Vanley would forgive its old-fashionedness.” “Which I expect increases its value; and that must be great, apart from the antiquity of the thing. These stones are very large and very lustrous. Look at this, Bradstone!” “Yes?” said Faradeane, carelessly. “I am no judge of gems. None could be too pure for Miss Vanley.” “Yes, very jolly,” said Bartley Bradstone. “Put it on and let Faradeane see how you look in it.” She did not offer to comply, but stood with the necklet in her hands; and he took it from her and put it round her neck, and struck an attitude. “What do you think of it, Faradeane?” he exclaimed. Faradeane looked at her for a moment and smiled. “The old gems were never so honored before,” he said; and, though he tried to speak lightly, there was a perceptible quiver in his voice. “They are very beautiful,” said the squire. “Take care of them, my dear. I am sure they are extremely valuable, although Mr. Faradeane treats them so cavalierly.” Olivia put up her hands to unfasten the necklet, but could not do so. “Let me try,” said Bradstone. “They like you so well that they don’t care about parting from you. I can’t do it! Where’s the spring, Faradeane, do you know? Just come and see, will you?” Faradeane came slowly forward, and as he did so Olivia put up her hands again. “I--I think I can do it,” she said, with a strange tremor in her voice. “Don’t you try,” said Bradstone, with a malicious enjoyment of her embarrassment. “Let Faradeane do it; he knows the trick of the fastening, I dare say.” “It is very simple,” said Faradeane; “will you allow me?” and he forced his voice into a tone of ordinary politeness. She bent her head, and he touched the hidden spring lightly; but, as the necklet parted, his fingers touched her, and her face and neck grew crimson as she raised her eyes to his face. Then she took the necklet from his hand, and without waiting to put it in its case, left the room. Bartley Bradstone thrust his hands into his pockets, and looked after her, and then at Faradeane’s pale, set face. “What ingratitude!” he said, half-mockingly and with a loud laugh. “She didn’t even say ‘Thank you!’” Olivia went up to her own room, her heart beating, her neck still burning where Faradeane’s fingers had touched, and as she opened the door she started and uttered an exclamation. But it was only Bessie who rose to meet her. “Bessie!” she exclaimed. “How you startled me!” and she sank into a chair, panting.