“I understand; of course you’d like to be alone--after all this. I’ll go and tell the squire----” he said, smothering a sigh of disappointment. She turned on him quickly. “You will not tell him----” “About our bargain? No, trust me,” he said, with a sharp smile and a gleam of cunning in his small eyes. “Good-by, then, till----” He waited for her to fix a time, but she merely murmured “Good-by,” and with a wistful glance at her, he left the room. She stood looking out at the bright flowers, her face pale, and wearing the rapt, preoccupied expression it had borne all through the interview. Then, as she heard the door open, she forced a smile to her lips, and turned with her back to the window to receive her father. “Olivia!” he said, coming to her quietly. “Is this true?” “That I am engaged to Mr. Bradstone, papa?” she said, with an unnatural cheerfulness. “Quite true. Has he told you?” “Yes; the poor fellow is half mad with joy; I never saw him so--but let me look at you!” And he took her in his arms and looked at her searchingly. She bore it for a moment or two, then hid her face on his shoulder. “Are you pleased, papa?” she said, in a low voice. “Pleased?” he echoed, and there was a strange ring in his grave voice, a vague anxiety. “Yes, yes--that is, if you are pleased. It is for you to decide, my child. I have said all along, I have told him repeatedly, that not by word or look would I seek to influence you. If I have, it has been unconsciously.” “No, dear,” she murmured. “And you have not. It is of my own free will--and you are pleased? Tell me, papa.” She seemed to crave a word of approval or satisfaction from him. “Of course I am pleased,” he said, gravely. “Bartley--by the way, you must not call him Mr. Bradstone any more--Bartley is a good fellow. I have always said so, and though you might have done better, as the cant of the world goes, he is a wealthy man, a very wealthy man, I think, and that means so much now, Olivia.” And he stifled a sigh. “Yes,” she said, softly. “I know that, and Mr. Brad--Bartley”--the name seemed to leave her lips awkwardly--“is generous.” “I think so, I think so, I have always said so,” he assented, as if he were eager to emphasize the good points of his future son-in-law. “Did he speak to you of money?” he said, after a moment’s pause. “Yes,” she replied. “He told me that I could have as much as I wanted. That was generous, papa!” “Very. It bears out my estimate of his character,” he said, his brow knitting itself. “He--he told you that?” “Yes,” she said, in a low voice. He drew a breath of relief. “Heaven grant you have done wisely!” he said. “Of one thing there can be no doubt; he loves you very deeply, Olivia.” “Yes,” she assented. “And you?” She kept the brave smile on her face. “I shall make him as good a wife as I can, dear,” she said. “I--I think he will be very happy.” He drew her to him and kissed her.