I saw the likeness at once. It might have been that of the young man whose face had struck me some little while before as so familiar. I stood for a few moments, and then exclaimed aloud: "How like he is to the picture! He must be a Dene!" "You have guessed rightly, Mildred," said Aunt Milly's voice. "This is my dear husband's nephew and namesake, William Dene. And this girl, William, who recognised a sort of kinsman in you, is the child of my only sister. She is my namesake, too, and adopted daughter, Mildred Corsor." In my haste and anxiety to look at the portrait, I had not noticed Aunt Milly and her companion, who were entering the gallery by a door which led to it from the library. I was quite confused for a few moments; but dear Aunt Milly soon made me feel at ease again. I shook hands with William Dene, and told him most heartily how glad I was to see him. I knew what pleasure it would give my dear father and mother, for mamma had told me of her conversation with my aunt on Christmas night, and what she hoped might be the result of it. "You know my secret, now," said Aunt Milly, "or at least you can guess who was my mysterious correspondent. Here he stands, Mildred. And now, to make amends for my seeming want of trust, you shall write to your father and mother and tell them that I have taken their advice. I hope, for the future, only peace and goodwill may be known amongst us Denes." CHAPTER VII A PLEASANT ENDING MY task was a very pleasant one. I had to tell my parents that Aunt Milly, acting on their advice, had made many inquiries respecting her late husband's nephews; and that all she had heard confirmed my father's account, especially of William, who, everybody said, was a kinsman to be proud of. So then Aunt Milly had written to him, just in her own brave, frank way, alluding to past differences between the elder people only so far as was needful, and expressing her hope that they would agree with her in forgetting them, and beginning a new life of friendship. When my father and mother heard this they were delighted. "Time will do the rest," exclaimed papa. "All will work right now, and there will soon be no question about the inheritance of Denesfield. Aunt Milly will find a son in William Dene." And so, in the end, it proved. William's mother and brothers also came to visit my aunt. The widowed mother had no longer to pinch and contrive for the education of her children, for Aunt Milly did nothing by halves. She at once made an ample provision for her sister-in-law and the younger boys, but "William," she said, "I must look after myself. He is so like what my dear husband was when I first knew him."