“It appears that you know more than Mr. Pendleton does, Milly,” said he; “there is no Miss Mortimer here. I suppose you are only amusing yourself at my expense: but I really am quite in earnest. Mr. Mortimer’s house is entirely yours. He had no child but your father; you are the heir-at-law. I only wish there had been a Miss Mortimer. You may look displeased, Milly darling; but think if there had been a good old lady to take care of you while I’m away!” “Oh, Harry, you don’t know what you are saying,” cried I; “that Miss Mortimer was an old witch and beauty. Mrs. Saltoun told me that if she should turn out to be a relation of mine, she would speak to you herself, to say that I must not on any account go there.” “Go where? What Miss Mortimer are you speaking of?” said Harry, completely mystified. Then I had to confess that I knew nothing of her, and it was all imagination; and Harry shook it off quite lightly, and went on to talk of this house. As if I ever could, after all my fancies, put Miss Mortimer out of that house! As if she had not taken possession, a wonderful old ghost, always to live and reign there! And, moreover, my heart got quite chill within me as Harry spoke. This was my bad omen; this was the sign I had appointed with myself for the coming of every trouble. I got so pale, listening to him, that he was disturbed, and grew quite anxious. Was I ill? What was the matter with me? I said No, with a gasp, and let him go on. He read out of the letter all the description of this dreadful house; but I am sure I did not need any description. I saw it as clear as a picture; large rooms, to be sure, with great faded Turkey carpets on them! a low broad staircase, with myself coming down on the post-morning wringing my hands, and Miss Mortimer sitting all silent by the fire; a large old garden with mossy apple-trees, and a sun-dial somewhere about, some dozen bedrooms or so, all hushed and solemn, as if people had died there. I am not sure that I heard the words of Harry’s description; for what was she good? I saw it perfectly well in my mind, far clearer than I ever could have known it by words. “And Harry,” cried I, with a start of despair, when he came to a pause, “would you really have me go to live in such a place--a place I never was in in all my life--a place I have no kind feeling about, nor pleasant thoughts--only because it was my grandfather’s house, whom I never saw, and who never cared to see me? I did not think you could have been so cruel. Besides, it would be far too expensive. Servants would have to be kept for it; and you must make up your mind that it would kill me.”