“But is it like what one reads of?”

“Exactly — the very same.”

“But now really — are there towers and long galleries?”

“By dozens.”

“Then I should like to see it; but I cannot — I cannot go.”

“Not go!

My beloved creature, what do you mean?”

“I cannot go, because” — looking down as she spoke, fearful of Isabella's smile — ”I expect Miss Tilney and her brother to call on me to take a country walk. They promised to come at twelve, only it rained; but now, as it is so fine, I dare say they will be here soon.”