"I don't think you need civilising," said Isabel; "but perhaps in our different ways we may do each other good. I do hope your people will let you come to stay with us when we go home."
"I should love it of all things," I said. "I have scarcely ever paid any visits, and I have seen very little of England except quite near our own home. Is it very pretty where you live?"
"Not so much pretty as picturesque," Isabel replied. "To begin with, it is very, very out of the way; we are six miles from a railway station of any kind, and sixteen from an important one. But papa's people have lived there for so long, that it doesn't seem out of the way to us. It is a place that changes very little."
"Then it is to be hoped that you have some nice and interesting neighbours," I said. "Near us there are so few young people."
"And there are not many near Millflowers either," said Isabel; "at least not within a good long drive. I hope you would not find it dull. There are interesting walks, if you care for wild, rugged scenery. The village itself is quite tiny. There is only one house of any importance besides the vicarage and ours, and that is--no good," she added, rather abruptly.
"Why not?" I inquired. "Is it uninhabited?"
"No," she replied. "The same people have lived in it for a great many years. They were there before father came into possession, on my uncle's death. But--" and again she paused.
"Well, yes, I don't see why I shouldn't," answered Isabel. "Father always tells us not to gossip about the Grim House, but you are sure to notice it when you come, so I may as well prepare you beforehand."
"The Grim House!" I exclaimed. "Is that the real name? Do tell me all about it. Is it haunted? It _must_ be."
"No," said Isabel, shaking her hood. "It _isn't_ haunted. At least I have never heard that it _was_. The real name is `Grimsthorpe'-- Grimsthorpe House or Hall, I am not sure which; but it _is_ always called `The Grim House,' and has been, papa says, ever since he can remember. And it seems to suit the present inhabitants and the strange mystery there is about them."
I was all ears by this time, and scarcely dared to speak for fear of interrupting Isabel.
"There is so little to tell," she said; "that _is_ the mystery. These people came there about twenty years ago. The house had been uninhabited for some time before that. It belonged to some one whose affairs had gone wrong, and there was some difficulty about letting it. And it was a good deal out of repair. Still there was no prejudice against it except that it was and is an extraordinarily dreary-looking place. Perhaps that was the attraction to the strange people who did take it. Our old gardener has told us about their coming. One day a gentleman arrived by train and drove out to our village. He went over the Grim House all by himself--there was only an old woman at the lodge who kept the keys, and he wouldn't let her go through the house with him. He was only about an hour there altogether, and then he drove back to the station as fast as he could."