Thus talking she led them in to a large low room, with great beams across the roof, and a multiplicity of small windows, deeply recessed in the thick old wall. There was a great open fireplace, with a few logs of wood burning on the hearth, and a little white-covered table with tea, standing before it; this table, and the easy chair, and a number of books, were the only modern things in the room. It was panelled with dark oak, and had, consequently, nothing of the brightness of the modern English rooms which Innocent knew; neither was it like the spare and lofty magnificence of those Italian apartments which had once been familiar to her. There were some small but rare pictures on the walls, and some portraits. Vane looked round it with the familiar satisfaction of one who returns to an old home. “Thank heaven, whatever you have done to the rest of the house, Letty,” he said, “you have spared my mother’s old room.” “Yes,” said Miss Vane, “I am far from perfection yet, if I ever attain to it. I don’t expect I shall. It is not the drawing-room now, it is only the parlour; but beyond that sacrifice I can’t go any further, which is contemptible. So this is Gilbert Vane’s daughter? Innocent, my dear, you are very welcome. I like you for your name. Reginald and I had a sister Innocent. You must try to like me and be happy here as long as your aunt will let you stay. Sit down and pour out some tea for yourself and him;--I must go off to chapel. You are excused to-day, as your train is late. Take care of the child, Reginald, and see she has some tea. I must be off or else I shall be late as well. Very glad to see you both. _Au revoir_ in half an hour.” She went on talking till she reached the door, when she disappeared, still talking and waving her hand. Her brother followed her with his kind eyes. “Dear old Letty!” he said, “I told you we should see her in all her glory. Sit down, Innocent, and warm your poor little hands, and take your tea.”