Rachel turned very red, then very pale, and looked at them with considerable dismay. “Write!” she said, with a falter in her voice; “I--I never thought of that--I never wrote to any one; I daresay I should do it very badly. Oh no; I shall be sure to find out whenever you come to the Old Wood Lodge.” “But we shall hear nothing of you,” said Agnes. “Why should you not write to us? I am sure you do to your brother at home.” “I do _not_,” said Rachel, once more drawing herself up, and with flashing eyes. “No one can write letters to us, who have no name.” She was not to be moved from this point; she repeated the same words again and again, though with a very wistful and yielding look in her face. All for Louis! Her companions were obliged to give up the question, after all. So there was another weeping, sobbing, vehement embrace, and Rachel disappeared without a word into the big bare room down stairs--disappeared to fall again, without a struggle, into her former forlorn life--to yield on her own account, and to struggle with fierce haughtiness for the credit of Louis--leaving the two sisters very thoughtful and compassionate, and full of a sudden eager generous impulse to run away with and take her home. “Home--to mamma! It would be like heaven to Rachel,” said Agnes, in a little enthusiasm, with tears in her eyes. “Ay, but it would not be like the Willows,” said the most practical Marian; and they both looked out with a smile and a sigh upon the beautiful sunshiny lawn, the river in an ecstasy of light and brightness, the little island with all its ruffled willow-leaves, and bethought themselves, finding some amusement in the contrast, of Laurel House, and Myrtle Cottage, and the close secluded walls of Bellevue. Mrs Atheling had sent the Fly for her daughters--the old Islingtonian fly, with the old white horse, and the coachman with his shiny hat. This vehicle, which had once been a chariot of the gods, looked somewhat shabby as it stood in the broad sunshine before the door of the Willows, accustomed to the fairy coach of Mrs Edgerley. They laughed to themselves very quietly when they caught their first glimpse of it, yet in a momentary weakness were half ashamed; for even Agnes’s honest determination to let everybody know their true “rank in life” was not troubled by any fear lest this respectable vehicle should be taken for their own carriage _now_.