There had been a mill attached to the place
once. The old building was there still, indeed, converted into a primitive
kind of stable; hence its name of Mill Cottage. The stream still ran
noisily a little way behind the house, and made the boundary which divided
the orchard from the lands of the lord of Arden. Mill Cottage was on the
very edge of Arden Court. Clarissa wondered that her father could have
pitched his tent on the borders of his lost heritage.
"I think I would have gone to the other end of the world, had I been in his
place," she said to herself.
An elderly woman-servant came out, in answer to the flyman's summons; and
at her call, a rough-looking young man emerged from the wooden gate opening
into a rustic-looking stable-yard, where the lower half of the old mill
stood, half-hidden by ivy and other greenery, and where there were
dovecotes and a dog-kennel.
Mr. Oliver superintended the removal of his niece's trunks, and then
stepped back into the fly.
"There's not the slightest use in my stopping to see your father, Clary,"
he said; "he won't show for a couple of hours at least. Good-bye, my dear;
make yourself as comfortable as you can. And come and see your aunt as soon
as you've recovered from your long journey, and keep up your spirits, my
dear.--Martha, be sure you give Miss Lovel a good breakfast.--Drive back to
the Rectory, coachman.--Good-bye, Clarissa;" and feeling that he had shown
his niece every kindness that the occasion required, Mr.
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