“He has disgrace enough already, poor boy,” said Rachel. “We are nobody’s children; or we are Lord Winterbourne’s; and he who might be a king’s son--and he has not even a name! Yes, he is my brother, my poor Louis: we are twins; and we have nobody but each other in the whole world.” “If he is as old as you,” said Agnes, who was only accustomed to the usages of humble houses, and knew nothing of the traditions of a noble race, “you should not stay at Winterbourne: a man can always work--you ought not to stay.” “Do you think so?” cried Rachel eagerly. “Louis says so always, and I beg and plead with him. When he was only eighteen he ran away: he went and enlisted for a soldier--a common man--and was away a year, and then they bought him off, and promised to get him a commission; and I made him promise to me--perhaps it was selfish, for I could not live when he was gone--I made him promise not to go away again. And there he is at Winterbourne. I know you never saw any one like him; and now all these heartless people are going there, and Lord Winterbourne is afraid of him, and never will have him seen, and the whole time I will be sick to the very heart lest he should go away.” “But I think he ought to go away,” said Agnes gravely. Her new friend looked up in her face with an earnest and trembling scrutiny. This poor girl had a great deal more passion and vehemence in her character than had ever been called for in Agnes, but, an uninstructed and ill-trained child, knew nothing of the primitive independence, and had never been taught to think of right and wrong. “We have a little house there,” said Agnes, with a sudden thought. “Do you know the Old Wood Lodge? Papa’s old aunt left it to him, and they say it is very near the Hall.” At the name Rachel started suddenly, rose up at once with one of her quick inconsiderate movements, and, throwing her arms round Agnes, kissed her cheek. “I knew I ought to know you,” said Rachel, “and yet I did not think of the name. Dear old Miss Bridget, she loved Louis. I am sure she loved him; and we know every room in the house, and every leaf on the trees. If you come there, we will see you every day.” “We are coming there--and my mother,” said Agnes. “I know you will be pleased to see mamma,” said the good girl, her face brightening, and her eyes filling in spite of herself; “every one thinks she is like their own mother--and when you come to us you will think you are at home.” “We never had any mother,” said Rachel, sadly; “we never had any home; we do not know what it is. Look, this is my home here.”