Olivia flushed crimson, and she covered her face with her hands as she whispered, “I--I saw him, with the fieldglass, from one of the windows!” The squire could not suppress a smile, as he put her from him. “And I always thought you were proud,” he said. “I’m--I’m the meanest creature in existence,” she said, piteously, as she ran out of the room. The squire walked down to The Dell, gravely thoughtful, but serene and resigned. He found Clydesfold walking to and fro in the little front garden, smoking his pipe. “It has come, Clydesfold,” he said, putting the letter in his hand. Clydesfold read it, then nodded. “What will you do?” he asked. “What does she say?” There was never any occasion for him to say Olivia; there was only one “she” in the world for him. “She bears it wonderfully; one would almost think she welcomes it. She suggests a cottage in Wales or an exile on the Continent. I told her I should come to you.” Clydesfold nodded again. “Better take her on the Continent,” he said. “The change will work a miracle in her. This trouble of yours will lead her to forget her own, and all that has passed. Yes, take her to Paris,” he concluded. “Very well,” assented the squire, as if he was a father taking a wise son’s advice. “And what are you going to do? You will not live in this place any longer, Clydesfold?” “No, not much longer. I shall leave it when you are gone.” “That is right,” said the squire. “I am glad; but for your sake, and not for my own,” and he sighed. “It will be hard to think of the old place having gone forever, and still harder to think of your having left it too. A double loss, Clydesfold. Where will you live? You have two or three places in England, have you not?” “Yes; but I am going to live at Hawkwood Grange,” he said, quietly. The squire started and stared at him. “At--at--the Grange?” he faltered. Clydesfold nodded, and drew the old man’s arm within his. “Yes; I have already written instructions to my solicitor to secure the place. And”--he added, slowly and distinctly, for the squire had begun to wince and draw his arm away as if he feared Clydesfold was going to offer to give it back to him--“and I am not going to part with it. I always liked it. I have learned to love and covet it. You don’t mind my buying it, do you, sir? I shall treat it reverently, be sure.” “No, no, no!” said the squire, the tears starting to his eyes. “I would rather you had the old place than any man in the world. If you had been my son----” He stopped. “We shan’t keep you waiting long, Clydesfold,” he said. “Don’t, please,” said Lord Clydesfold, quite calmly. “The sooner you go the better I shall be pleased, for, you see, I want to do it up, and--and take her away at once, sir!” he broke off, rather inconsequently. “Come inside and let us talk over your plans. I wish”--the color rose to his face--“I wish I were going with you.” The squire returned to the Grange in about an hour.