Pansy thought of Juliette Ives and the scorn she had displayed toward her, and answered bitterly: “Many have thought the same, Mrs. Beach; but in the three years I spent in a tobacco factory I met many girls as beautiful, as refined, and as good as are met with in the highest circles of what is called good society. I cannot believe that nobility is only to be met with in the ranks of the rich and well-born. The good and bad are met with in all classes.” “That is quite true, my child,” said the lady, to whom Pansy had not confided the story of her cruel experience among the aristocrats of her native city. She gazed admiringly at the flushed face of the excited girl, and added: “I do not wish to flatter you, my dear girl, but I will say frankly that both your mind and person fit you to adorn the highest society. It would be an injustice to you to lower you to the position of my personal attendant; therefore you shall remain with me as my companion, and as soon as we reach San Diego, my destination, I will try to secure some elderly woman as my maid.” Pansy’s tears of gratitude amply thanked the noble woman for her generous words, and she sighed to think that she dared not confide to her the whole story of her life. But she could not bring herself to repeat to a stranger, however kindly, the sorrows of her unfortunate love affair. “And, then, I dare not, for she would perhaps spurn me from her presence, deeming me wicked where I was only unfortunate,” she thought shrinkingly. She had told Mrs. Beach that her name was Pansy Wilcox, and that she had left home because her mother had married a man who was unkind to his stepchildren. Mrs. Beach thought the reason was a fair one, and did not blame the young girl much. She had some reason for knowing how unpleasant a girl’s home could be made under such circumstances. They safely reached San Diego, one of the most beautiful and romantic places in California, and for a while Pansy was so enchanted with her new home and its Italian-like surroundings that she ceased to grieve for her native Richmond and the dear ones left behind. A new life opened before her: one of comparative ease and luxury, compared to what she had known, for with the gentle invalid lady her duties as companion were usually light and pleasant. Mrs. Beach had soon found a clever maid, and, as she rented a small furnished cottage near the beautiful bay of San Diego, and hired two Chinese servants, life began to flow on very smoothly and fairly to those who made up her household. She had told Pansy very little about herself, save that she was a widow with a fair income that would cease at her death. “I have no relatives save a distant one of my husband, who will, perhaps, be glad when I die, as he will then inherit the property,” she said, adding: “But I mean to live as long as I can, and this charming climate makes me feel almost as if I am going to get well again.”