A sudden shyness came over Mildred. The warm greeting and the words were both new to her. She returned a courteous word of welcome, drew a little apart, and glanced at William. He seemed to have enough to do gazing at the visitor. Philip was coming in with the luggage. Mrs. Arkell took her hand. "I will show you your room, Miss Travice; and if----" "Oh, pray don't call me 'Miss Travice,' or anything so formal," was the young lady's interruption. "Begin with 'Charlotte' at once, or I shall fear you are not glad to see me." Mrs. Arkell smiled; her young visitor was winning upon her greatly. She led her to a very nice room on the first floor. "This will be your chamber, my dear; it is over our usual sitting-room. My room and Mr. Arkell's is on the opposite side the corridor, over the drawing-room. You face the street, you see; and across there to the right are the cathedral towers." "What a charming house you have, Mrs. Arkell! So large and nice." "It is larger than we require. Let me look at you, my dear, and see what resemblance I can trace. I remember your father and mother." She held the young lady before her. A very pretty face, certainly--especially now, for Charlotte laughed and blushed. "Oh, Mrs. Arkell, I am not fit to be seen; I feel as dusty as can be. You cannot think how dusty the roads were; I shall look better to-morrow." "You have the bright dark eyes and the clear complexion of your father; but I don't see that you are like him in features--yours are prettier. But now, my dear, tell me--in writing to me, did you not think you were writing to Mrs. Daniel Arkell?" "Mrs. Daniel Arkell! No, I did not. Who is she? I don't remember anything about her." "But Mrs. Daniel was your mother's friend--far more intimate with her than I was. I am delighted at the mistake, if it was one; for Mrs. Dan might otherwise have gained the pleasure of your visit, instead of me." "I don't _think_ I made a mistake," said Charlotte, more dubiously than she had just spoken; "I used to hear poor mamma speak of the Arkells of Westerbury; and one day lately, in looking over some of her old letters and papers, I found your address. The thought came into my mind at once to write to you, and ask if you could help me to a situation. I believe papa was respected in Westerbury; and it struck me that somebody here might want a teacher, or governess, and engage me for his sake. You know we are of gentle blood, Mrs. Arkell, though we have been so poor of late years." "I will do anything to help you that I can," was the kind answer. "Have you lost both father and mother?" "Why yes," returned Charlotte, with a surprised air, as if she had thought all the world knew that. "Papa has been dead several months--twelve, I think, nearly; mamma has been dead five or six." "And--I suppose--your poor papa did not leave much money?"