“And neither are we,” said Agnes, following shyly the step which this strange girl took away from them. “We never were in a house like this before. We do not belong to great people. Mrs Edgerley asked us to come, because we met her at Mr Burlington’s, and she has been very kind, but we know no one. Pray, do not go away.” The thoughtful eyes brightened into a sudden gleam. “We are called Atheling,” said Marian, interposing in her turn. “My sister is Agnes, and I am Marian--and you Miss----” “My name is Rachel,” said their new friend, with a sudden and violent blush, making all her face crimson. “I have no other--call me so, and I will like it. You think I am of your age; but I am not like you--you do not know half so much as I know.” “No--that is very likely,” said Agnes, somewhat puzzled; “but I think you do not mean education,” said the young author immediately, seeing Marian somewhat disposed to resent on her behalf this broad assertion. “You mean distress and sorrow. But we have had a great deal of grief at home. We have lost dear little children, one after another. We are not ignorant of grief.” Rachel looked at them with strange observation, wonder, and uncertainty. “But you are ignorant of me--and I am ignorant of you,” she said slowly, pausing between her words. “I suppose you mean just what you say, do you? and I am not much used to that. Do you know what I am here for?--only to sing and amuse the people--and you still want to make friends with me!” “Mrs Edgerley said you were to be a singer, but you did not like it,” said Marian; “and I think you are very right.” “Did she say so?--and what more?” said Rachel, smiling faintly. “I want to hear now, though I did not when I heard your voices first.” “She said you were a connection of the family,” said Agnes. The blood rushed again to the young stranger’s brow. “Ah! I understand,” she said; “she implied--yes. I know how she would do. And you will still be friends with _me_?” At that moment it suddenly flashed upon the recollection of both the girls that Mamma had disapproved of this prospective acquaintance. They both blushed with instant consciousness, and neither of them spoke. In an instant Rachel became frozen into a haughtiness far exceeding anything within the power of Mrs Edgerley. Little and slight as she was, her girlish frame rose to the dignity of a young queen. Before Agnes could say a word, she had left them with a slight and lofty bow. Without haste, but with singular rapidity, she crossed the dewy lawn, and went into the house, acknowledging, with a stately inclination of her head, some one who passed her. The girls were so entirely absorbed, watching her progress, that they did not perceive who this other person was. CHAPTER II. AN EMBARRASSING COMPANION.