tive in her face; which perplexed, disappointed, and
even shocked me, though I hardy knew why. Mr. Garthwaite, who had been
walking along thoughtfully, with his eyes on the ground, turned back
when he found me lingering behind him; looked up where I was looking;
started a little, I thought; then took my arm, whispered rather
impatiently, "Don't say anything about having seen that poor child when
you are introduced to Miss Welwyn; I'll tell you why afterward," and led
me round hastily to the front of the building.

It was a very dreary old house, with a lawn in front thickly sprinkled
with flower-beds, and creepers of all sorts climbing in profusion about
the heavy stone porch and the mullions of the lower windows. In spite
of these prettiest of all ornaments clustering brightly round the
building--in spite of the perfect repair in which it was kept from top
to bottom--there was something repellent to me in the aspect of the
whole place: a deathly stillness hung over it, which fell oppressively
on my spirits. When my companion rang the loud, deep-toned bell, the
sound startled me as if we had been committing a crime in disturbing the
silence. And when the door was opened by an old female servant (while
the hollow echo of the bell was still vibrating in the air), I could
hardly imagine it possible that we should be let in. We were admitted,
however, without the slightest demur. I remarked that there was the
same atmosphere of dreary repose inside the house which I had already
observed, or rather felt, outside it. No dogs barked at our approach--no
doors banged in the servants' offices--no heads peeped over the
banisters--not one of the ordinary domestic consequences of an
unexpected visit in the country met either eye or ear. The large
shadowy apartment, half library, half breakfast-room, into which we were
ushered, was as solitary as the hall of entrance; unless I except such
drowsy evidences of life as were here presented to us in the shape of
an Angola cat and a gray parrot--the first lying asleep in a chair, the
second sitting ancient, solemn, and voiceless, in a large cage.

Mr. Garthwaite walked to the window when we entered, without saying a
word. Determining to let his taciturn humor have its way, I asked him no
questions, but looked around the room to see what information it would
give me (and rooms often do give such information) about the character
and habits of the owner of the house.

Two tables covered wit