"Yes," was the quiet reply, "but there is no objection. The owner and I are on the most intimate terms. I admire the place very much, and want you to see it, so we will drive all around the grounds." And he gave the order to the coachman.
Molly looked and admired. "Charming! almost if not quite equal to Viamede."
His eyes shone. "Your taste agrees with mine," he said. "Look this way. We have a good view of the house from here. What do you think of it?"
"That it is just suited to its surroundings, and must be a delightful residence."
"So it is; and I want to show you the inside too. There's no objection," as he read hesitation and disapproval in her face; "the master and mistress are not there, and—in fact I have charge of the place just now, and am quite at liberty to show it to strangers."
The next moment they drew up before the front entrance. Mr. Embury hastily alighted and lifted out the little ones, saying in a low tone something which Molly did not hear as he set them down.
They ran in at the open door, and turning to her again he took her in his strong arms and bore her into a lordly entrance hall; then on through, one spacious, elegantly furnished room after another—parlors, library, dining and drawing-rooms—moving slowly that she might have time so gaze and admire, and now and then setting her down for a few moments in an easy chair or on a luxurious sofa, usually before a rare painting or some other beautiful work of art which he thought she would particularly enjoy.
The children had disappeared, and they were quite alone.
He had reserved a charming boudoir for the last. Open doors gave tempting glimpses of dressing and bedrooms beyond.
"These," he said, placing her in a delightfully easy, velvet cushioned chair, and standing by her side, "are the apartments of the mistress of the mansion, as you have doubtless already conjectured. What do you think of them?"