"Dolly, when we all go back to America, the house I speak of will not be 'far off.'"
"No," said Dolly faintly.
"Look here," said he, taking one of her hands. "It is a house I hope you will like. I like it, though it has no pretension whatever. It is an old house; and the ground belonging to it has been in the possession of my family for a hundred years; the house itself is not quite so old. But the trees about it are. The old house stands shut up and empty. I told you, I have no one very near of kin left to me; so even when I am at home I do not go there. I have never lived there since my mother left it."
Dolly was silent.
"Now, how soon do you think I may have the house opened and put in order for living in?"
There came up a lovely rose colour in the cheeks he was looking at; however Dolly answered with praiseworthy steadiness——
"That is a matter for you to consider."
"Is it?"
"Certainly."
"But you know it would be no use to open it, until somebody is ready to live there."