“Shan’t I ask the colonel to come to you, miss?” asked Bessie, who was white with anxiety. Olivia shook her head. “No,” she said. “It would be easier for him to refuse while I am sitting here; it will be more difficult--oh, I will make it impossible for him to do so, once I am inside his office,” and her voice seemed suddenly to have got back something of its old ring and firmness. They got out, and, without knocking, Olivia opened the office door. The colonel looked up from the desk at which he was writing, and stared speechlessly for a moment at the vision of fragile loveliness. Then he sprang to his feet and came round to her. “Great Heaven, Miss Olivia! I beg pardon--Mrs. Bradstone. You here! What is the matter? Where is the squire?” and as he held her hand he tried to lead her gently to a chair; but Olivia stood firm, and with her thin fingers twining round his, looked at him steadily, though her heart was beating wildly, and the color coming and going in her face. “Nothing has happened, dear Colonel Summerford, and my father is not here. I am alone, excepting for my maid. I have come to ask a great favor of you. You will not refuse me?” “A favor?” echoed the colonel; “my dear young lady! Come out of the draught, for Heaven’s sake!” he broke off, for she looked so wan and slight that it seemed to him as if a breath of air would waft her away. “I did not know you were well enough to be out. Are you? And to come here! What is it you want me to do? Of course I will not refuse you; you know that.” “Yes, I know that,” she murmured, in the sweet voice which had never failed yet to reach men’s hearts. “I want you to let me see Mr. Faradeane.” The colonel literally gasped for breath. “To--to see the prisoner--Mr. Faradeane!” he exclaimed under his breath. “My dear, dear girl, you cannot be serious.” She forced a smile. “Do not be alarmed, Colonel Summerford. I am quite sensible now, and not delirious. And I do want to see Mr. Faradeane.” “To see Mr. Faradeane!” he repeated, as if he could not quite realize it even yet. “But what for, in the name of Heaven?” “Must I tell you that?” she asked, still looking at him steadily, though her lips quivered. “I want to tell him that I know he did not commit this--that he is charged with, and that----” She stopped. “It’s quite impossible!” he said, gravely. “Quite--quite! Don’t ask me, I beg of you!” “But I do ask you,” she murmured, her eyes melting with entreaty. “Why is it impossible? You are governor, and can do what you like”--the colonel was too much troubled to smile--“and you said you would not refuse me.” “But,” he retorted, soothingly, with a look of relief, “fortunately, it isn’t for me to grant or refuse. It is for Mr. Faradeane, and he has informed me that he will see no one.” “I do not care for that,” she said, in the tone which only a woman knows how to use. “He will see me, because I shall not wait to ask him!” The poor colonel tugged at his mustache.