“Yes,” said Helen, “very, indeed; they have lived in this part of the country since the Revolution.” As Mr. Harrison went on to tell her the story of the sale she found herself vividly reminded of what her aunt had told her of the difference between having a good deal of money and all the money one wanted. Perhaps, also, her companion was not without some such vaguely felt purpose in the telling. At any rate, the girl was trembling inwardly more and more at the prospect which was unfolding itself before her; as excitement always acted upon her as a stimulant, she was at her very best during the rest of the drive. She and her companion were conversing very merrily indeed when Fairview was reached.
The very beginning of the place was imposing, for there was a high wall along the roadway for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then two massive iron gates set in great stone pillars; they were opened by the gate-keeper in response to Mr. Harrison's call. Once inside the two had a drive of some distance through what had once been a handsome park, though it was a semi-wilderness then. The road ascended somewhat all the way, until the end of the forest was reached, and the first view of the house was gained; Helen could scarcely restrain a cry of pleasure as she saw it, for it was really a magnificent old mansion, built of weather-beaten gray stone, and standing upon a high plateau, surrounded by a lawn and shaded by half a dozen great oaks; below it the lawn sloped in a broad terrace, and in the valley thus formed gleamed a little trout-pond, set off at the back by a thickly-wooded hillside.
“Isn't it splendid!” the girl exclaimed, gazing about her.
“I thought it was rather good,” said Mr. Harrison, deprecatingly. “It can be made much finer, of course.”
“When you take your last year's hay crop from the lawn, for one thing,” laughed she. “But I had no idea there was anything so beautiful near our little Oakdale. Just look at that tremendous entrance!”
“It's all built in royal style,” said Mr. Harrison. “The family must have been wealthy in the old days.”
“Probably slave-dealers, or something of that kind,” observed Helen. “Is the house all furnished inside?”
“Yes,” said the other, “but I expect to do most of it over. Wouldn't you like to look?” He asked the question as he saw the gate-keeper coming up the road, presumably with the keys.
The girl gazed about her dubiously; she would have liked to go in, except that she was certain it would be improper. Helen had never had much respect for the proprieties, however, being accustomed to rely upon her own opinions of things; and in the present case, besides, she reflected that no one would ever know anything about it.
“We'd not have time to do more than glance around,” continued the other, “but we might do that, if you like.”