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The Secret of Haverly House — Carolyn Bauman
The breakers moaned…the gulls cried…then a young girl's piteous scream rest the silence of the dark night…
Heather Lane came to Haverly House at the request of its young owner to be the paid companion of the old Mulvina Haverly. But when she saw that huge mansion perched in solitude on top of the rugged cliffs, she sensed that there was another reason for her coming... Something buried deep in the dark recesses of her past... Something she had to discover or she would become the next victim of the curse of Haverly House.
REMEMBER
There is a house that I know I have never seen before. Yet there are times when I remember having gazed from it's small-paned windows. On a sea summer-green and a fierce wild tide.
Climbing stern gray crags to November. There is a portrait, age-umbered, that I love, like a breath on a darkening ember, there breathes on the echoing theme, of soft footfalls, dark floors that gleam, the voices, almost familiar, that seem to be calling me back from some likeness.
“Remember…remember…remember…
Heather Lane came to Haverly House at the request of its young owner to be the paid companion of the old Mulvina Haverly. But when she saw that huge mansion perched in solitude on top of the rugged cliffs, she sensed that there was another reason for her coming... Something buried deep in the dark recesses of her past... Something she had to discover or she would become the next victim of the curse of Haverly House.
REMEMBER
There is a house that I know I have never seen before. Yet there are times when I remember having gazed from it's small-paned windows. On a sea summer-green and a fierce wild tide.
Climbing stern gray crags to November. There is a portrait, age-umbered, that I love, like a breath on a darkening ember, there breathes on the echoing theme, of soft footfalls, dark floors that gleam, the voices, almost familiar, that seem to be calling me back from some likeness.
“Remember…remember…remember…