"Are you talking of Mildred Arkell?" exclaimed the astonished young man. "I don't want to marry _her_. Mildred is a very nice girl as a cousin, but I never thought of her as a wife. I want Charlotte Travice!" "Charlotte Travice!" The change in the tone, the deep pain it betrayed, struck a chill on William's heart. Mr. Arkell gazed at him before he again broke the silence. "How came you to tell your mother yesterday that you wanted to marry Mildred?" "I never did tell her so, sir; I told her I wished to marry Charlotte." Mr. Arkell took another contemplative stare at his son. He then turned short away, quitted the manufactory by his own private entrance, walked across the yard, past the coach-house and stable, and went straight into the presence of his wife. "A pretty ambassador you would make at a foreign court!" he began; "to mistake your credentials in this manner!" Mrs. Arkell was seated alone, puzzling herself with a lap-fall of patchwork, and wishing Mildred was there to get it into order. Every now and then she would be taken with a sewing fit, and do about two stitches in a morning. She looked up at the strange address, the mortified tone. "You told me William wanted to marry Mildred!" "So he does." "So he does _not_," was Mr. Arkell's answer. "He wants to marry your fine lady visitor, Miss Charlotte Travice." Mrs. Arkell rose up in consternation, disregardful of the work, which fell to the ground. "You must be mistaken," she exclaimed. "No; it is you who have been mistaken. William says he did not speak to you of Mildred; never thought of her as a wife at all; he spoke to you of Charlotte Travice." "Dear, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Arkell, a feeling very like unto faintness coming over her spirit; "I hope it is not so! I hope still there may be some better elucidation." "There can be no other elucidation, so far, than this," returned Mr. Arkell, his tone one of sharp negation. "The extraordinary part of the affair is, how you could have misinterpreted his meaning, and construed Charlotte Travice into Mildred Arkell! I said we kept the girl here too long." He turned away again with the last sentence on his tongue. He was not sufficiently himself to stay and talk then. Mrs. Arkell, in those first few minutes, was as one who has just received a blow. Presently she despatched a message for her son; she was terribly vexed with him; and, like we all do, felt it might be a relief to throw off some of her annoyance upon him. "How came you to tell me yesterday you wanted to marry Mildred?" she began when he appeared, her tone quite as sharp as ever was Mr. Arkell's. "I did not tell you so. My father has been saying something of the same sort, but it is a mistake." "You must have told me so," persisted Mrs. Arkell; "how else could I have imagined it? Charlotte's name was never mentioned at all. Except--yes--I believe I said that she could be the bridesmaid."