“Angry? No, Bessie. And so it was Mr. Faradeane who sent you? Yes, it was very thoughtful.” “Yes, miss,” said Bessie, with a sigh of relief. “He said that you might feel lonely when you were away on your travels abroad and when you get back to The Maples, and that you’d like to have some one you knew and loved, he said, to be near you, and--and I came at once. We all do whatever Mr. Faradeane says,” she added, with a little, suppressed sigh. “Yes, it was very thoughtful, and I am very much--obliged--to him,” said Olivia in a low voice. “And now go and get some tea; bring it up here, and--and keep near me. Yes, it was like him to think of it!” And long after Bessie had left the room, her mistress sat with her hands tightly clasped, her eyes fixed on the necklet in her lap. The following day was one of bustle and excitement. Some of the wedding guests, connections of the Vanleys, were coming from a distance, and had been asked to sleep at the Grange; Annie and Mary, who were also to stay the night, arrived soon after breakfast, and at once plunged into the business in hand with infinite gusto and enjoyment. The wedding feast was preparing in the kitchen, and upstairs the dressmaker was working frantically at the finishing of the wedding garments. In the afternoon the bishop--Aunt Amelia had insisted upon a bishop--arrived, and he and the squire wandered about the place in the aimless, shiftless manner peculiar to males on these occasions. “I’m sure I don’t know whether you’ll get any dinner to-night, my lord,” said the squire, “the whole place is in such confusion.” “I dare say we shall have something to eat,” said his lordship, with bland conviction. “You must remember that I am used to this kind of thing. Let me see! the last time I saw Miss Vanley she was in short frocks. She was very pretty then, she is beautiful now. I think this Mr.--Mr.--What’s-his-name?--Bradstone, thanks--is a very lucky young man. He is very rich, is he not?” “Yes,” said the squire. “Well,” said the courtly bishop, “he will not have in all his treasure-house a more precious gem than your sweet child. By the way, I think I have seen him before.” “Indeed!” said the squire. “Yes; I met him as I was driving in, I think. He was riding a remarkably good horse; a tall and exceedingly handsome young man, with a rather grave and pale face. The kind of man that attracts one’s attention. It was a dark chestnut horse.” “No, that was not Bradstone,” said the squire; “that was a very great friend of mine--Mr. Faradeane.” The good bishop looked puzzled. “Dear me! A tall man with a mustache, and a--er--certain distinguished bearing?” he said. “Yes, that was Mr. Faradeane,” said the squire. “Do you think you have seen him before?” His lordship stopped and knit his brows. “I could have been certain of it, if you had not mentioned his name; but I suppose I must be mistaken, for I do not remember it. And it was not your future son-in-law?”