"No, Sir; she has just had her luncheon. Mrs. Marks never stirs after her luncheon." She spoke confidently. Mr. Thornton reclined back in his chair, uttered an amazed "Ah!" but, recovering himself, he said, with great suavity: "Charlotte, be so good as to give my compliments to Mrs. Marks, and say that I shall feel indebted to her if she will favour me with her company for a few minutes, now," he added, with some stress. Charlotte shook her head sceptically; but she obeyed, and proved more successful than she had anticipated, for, ere long, the door again opened, and admitted Mrs. Marks. In dress and appearance, she looked exactly the same as seven years before. "Mrs. Marks," said Mr. Thornton, with great politeness, "will you have the kindness to show Miss Burns, my grand-daughter, to her room?" Mrs. Marks gave me a look of her cold, fishy eye, and said, "Yes, Sir," in a tone of ice. I saw she remembered me with no pleasant feelings. I followed her out of the study, determined that both she and my grandfather should learn I was no longer a child. She took me to a room on the first floor, large, but plainly furnished, and informed me "this was my apartment." "Thank you," I replied, quietly; "but it is too gloomy. I prefer the room I had formerly." Mrs. Marks did not understand. Mrs. Marks was in a state of obliviousness concerning all that had passed before this day. Mrs. Marks knew Miss Burns, the grand-daughter of Mr. Thornton; of the obstinate little girl whom she had called Burns, Mrs. Marks had no recollection, nor of anything concerning her. Without heeding this, I described to her so minutely the locality of my old apartment, that she could not feign ignorance; but when, in answer to her objection that it was "quite empty," I civilly requested her to cause the furniture around me to be removed to it as soon as possible, Mrs. Marks looked figuratively knocked down. I left her in that prostrate condition, to go down and speak to my grandfather. I could not understand why he had so suddenly claimed me, and what he wanted with me. He did not look as if he liked me a bit better than formerly; certainly not as if inclined to make me "the charm of his home, and the delight of his heart and eyes." "There is something in it," I thought. "Cornelius may fancy that every body is as fond of me as he is, and look for no other motive; but I am sure there is, and I must find it out, if it were only to help him in his mysterious design."