'Oh, I've nothing to do; but if it is about business, Julia will
attend----'

'I think you had better be present, Miss Watson.'

Mr. Grandly was a tall, massive man with benevolent features; his bald,
pink skull was partly covered with one lock of white hair. There was an
anxious look in his pale, deep-set eyes which impressed Julia, and she
said: 'I hope this communication you have to make to us is not of a painful
nature. We have----'

'Yes, Mrs. Bentley, I know that you have been severely tried lately, but
there is no help for it. I cannot keep you in ignorance any longer of
certain facts relating to Mr. Burnett's will.' The words 'will' and 'facts'
struck on Emily's ear. She had been thinking about her fortune. The very
ground she was walking on was hers. She was the owner of this beautiful
park; it seemed like a fairy tale. And that house, that dear, old-fashioned
house, that rambling, funny old place of all sizes and shapes, full of deep
staircases and pictures, was hers. Her eyes wandered along the smooth wide
drive, down to the placid water crossed by the great ornamental bridge, the
island where she had watched the swans floating last night--all these
things were hers. So the words 'will' and 'facts' and 'ignorance of them'
jarred her clutching little dream, and she turned her eyes--they wore an
anxious look--towards Mr. Grandly, and said with an authoritative air:
'Yes, let us go into the drawing-room; I want to hear what Mr. Grandly has
to say about----Let us go into the drawing-room at once.'

Julia took the chair nearest to her. Emily stood at the window, waiting
impatiently for Mr. Grandly to begin. He laid his hat on the parquet, wiped