She was bearing up wonderfully. He would waylay Bessie perhaps once a day, and get her to talk to him of her; and never was Bessie reluctant to talk of her beloved mistress, and Bessie told him how remarkably Olivia had escaped the dreaded return of her illness. “If anything had happened, my lord,” Bessie would say, and then Lord Clydesfold would silence her. He would not permit any one to speak of the past. While the world was still talking and marveling over the romantic “Hawkwood Murder,” and wondering why, now that he was free from the woman who had held him in thrall and free from the shadow of death, Lord Clydesfold did not return to the society which his rank and wealth would have so well adorned, the blow which he had been expecting fell upon the squire. A distant cousin of Bartley Bradstone’s rose up from the mists of obscurity and claimed what remained of his property; and, on examining his affairs, the mortgages on the Grange estate and the squire’s bonds were discovered. Then was the cousin jubilant; and, losing no time, swooped down like a bird of prey. The squire was prepared. It is a question whether, in the joy of having his darling restored to him, he felt any very great sorrow. “We must go, dear,” he said to Olivia, from whom he now concealed nothing, and would never again conceal anything. “You will be brave, dear? It is a cruel business for you; but----” Olivia put her arms round his neck, and drew his troubled, careworn face to hers. “Dear, if you knew how wickedly glad I feel!” she said. “Let them take everything so that they leave you and me--and auntie--in peace. Shall we take a cottage in Wales, or go abroad; one can live so cheaply abroad, can’t one?” “I--I don’t quite know yet,” said the squire, doubtfully. “I must ask Clydesfold.” Olivia’s head dropped, and a faint color flew into her cheeks. “Do you ask Lord Clydesfold’s advice as to how many pieces of toast you should eat for breakfast, dear?” she whispered, with a little pout. The old man rubbed his chin, and laughed absently. “Well, I think I do, almost. I’ll just go down to The Dell; I wish he’d come up here. But--but, I suppose----” and he looked at her. “Yes, you suppose rightly,” she said, hiding her face on his shoulder again. “Do you want me to die of shame, as I should do the moment I saw him?” “No, I don’t want you to die of anything,” he said, tenderly stroking her hand. “Why doesn’t he go back to London, to his old friends, the lords and ladies, who used to be so fond of him?” “I don’t know. I told him that it was his duty to do so; and he remarked that he was rather tired of doing his duty.” A smile crept over Olivia’s face, and her eyes grew dreamy. “That is like one of his old speeches,” she murmured. “And he looks better, and more as he used to do.” “Why, when did you see him?” asked the squire, with some surprise.