Miss Hastings had already thought the same thing; but she knew whoever won the love of such a girl as Pauline Darrell would be one of the cleverest of men.
"I am writing to him to tell him that I hope he will remain with us for a month; and during that time I hope, I fervently hope, he may fall in love with my niece. She is beautiful enough. Pardon me again, Miss Hastings, but has she ever spoken to you of love or lovers?"
"No. She is in that respect, as in many others, quite unlike the generality of girls. I have never heard an allusion to such matters from her lips--never once."
This fact seemed to Sir Oswald stranger than any other; he had an idea that girls devoted the greater part of their thoughts to such subjects.
"Do you think," he inquired, "that she cared for any one in Paris--any of those men, for instance, whom she used to meet at her father"s?"
"No," replied Miss Hastings; "I do not think so. She is strangely backward in all such respects, although she was brought up entirely among gentlemen."
"Among--pardon me, my dear madame, not gentlemen--members, we will say, of a gentlemanly profession."
Sir Oswald took from his gold snuff-box a pinch of most delicately-flavored snuff, and looked as though he thought the very existence of such people a mistake.
"Any little influence that you may possess over my niece, Miss Hastings, will you kindly use in Captain Langton"s favor? Of course, if anything should come of my plan--as I fervently hope there may--I shall stipulate that the engagement lasts two years. During that time I shall trust to the influence of love to change my niece"s character."
It was only a fresh complication--one from which Miss Hastings did not expect much.
That same day, during dinner, Sir Oswald told his niece of the expected arrival of Captain Langton.
"I have seen so few English gentlemen," she remarked, "that he will be a subject of some curiosity to me."
"You will find him--that is, if he resembles his father--a high-bred, n.o.ble gentleman," said Sir Oswald, complacently.
"Is he clever?" she asked. "What does he do?"
"Do!" repeated Sir Oswald. "I do not understand you."
"Does he paint pictures or write books?"
"Heaven forbid!" cried Sir Oswald, proudly. "He is a gentleman."
Her face flushed hotly for some minutes, and then the flush died away, leaving her paler than ever.
"I consider artists and writers gentlemen," she retorted--"gentlemen of a far higher stamp than those to whom fortune has given money and nature has denied brains."
Another time a sharp argument would have resulted from the throwing down of such a gantlet. Sir Oswald had something else in view, so he allowed the speech to pa.s.s.
"It will be a great pleasure for me to see my old friend"s son again,"
he said. "I hope, Pauline, you will help me to make his visit a pleasant one."
"What can I do?" she asked, brusquely.
"What a question!" laughed Sir Oswald. "Say, rather, what can you not do? Talk to him, sing to him. Your voice is magnificent, and would give any one the greatest pleasure. You can ride out with him."
"If he is a clever, sensible man, I can do all that you mention; if not, I shall not trouble myself about him. I never could endure either tiresome or stupid people."
"My young friend is not likely to prove either," said Sir Oswald, angrily; and Miss Hastings wondered in her heart what the result of it all would be.
That same evening Miss Darrell talked of Captain Langton, weaving many bright fancies concerning him.
"I suppose," she said, "that it is not always the most favorable specimens of the English who visit Paris. We used to see such droll caricatures. I like a good caricature above all things--do you, Miss Hastings?"
"When it is good, and pains no one," was the sensible reply.
The girl turned away with a little impatient sigh.
"Your ideas are all colorless," she said, sharply. "In England it seems to me that everybody is alike. You have no individuality, no character."
"If character means, in your sense of the word, ill-nature, so much the better," rejoined Miss Hastings. "All good-hearted people strive to save each other from pain."
"I wonder," said Pauline, thoughtfully, "if I shall like Captain Langton! We have been living here quietly enough; but I feel as though some great change were coming. You have no doubt experienced that peculiar sensation which comes over one just before a heavy thunder-storm? I have that strange, half-nervous, half-restless sensation now."
"You will try to be amiable, Pauline," put in the governess, quietly.
"You see that Sir Oswald evidently thinks a great deal of this young friend of his. You will try not to shock your uncle in any way--not to violate those little conventionalities that he respects so much."
"I will do my best; but I must be myself--always myself. I cannot a.s.sume a false character."
"Then let it be your better self," said the governess, gently; and for one minute Pauline Darrell was touched.
"That sweet creature, Lady Hampton"s niece, will be here next week," she remarked, after a short pause. "What changes will be brought into our lives, I wonder?"
Of all the changes possible, least of all she expected the tragedy that afterward happened.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE INTRODUCTION.
It was a never-to-be-forgotten evening when Captain Langton reached Darrell Court--an evening fair, bright, and calm. The sweet southern wind bore the perfume of flowers; the faint ripples of the fountains, the musical song of the birds, seemed almost to die away on the evening breeze; the sun appeared unwilling to leave the sapphire sky, the flowers unwilling to close. Pauline had lingered over her books until she could remain in-doors no longer; then, by Miss Hastings" desire, she dressed for dinner--which was delayed for an hour--and afterward went into the garden.
Most girls would have remembered, as they dressed, that a handsome young officer was coming; Miss Darrell did not make the least change in her usual toilet. The thin, fine dress of c.r.a.pe fell in statuesque folds round the splendid figure; the dark hair was drawn back from the beautiful brow, and negligently fastened with her favorite silver arrow; the white neck and fair rounded arms gleamed like white marble through the thin folds of c.r.a.pe. There was not the least attempt at ornament; yet no queen arrayed in royal robes ever looked more lovely.
Pauline was a great lover of the picturesque. With a single flower, a solitary knot of ribbon, she could produce an effect which many women would give all their jewels to achieve. Whatever she wore took a kind of royal grace from herself which no other person could impart. Though her dress might be made of the same material as that of others, it never looked the same. On her it appeared like the robes of a queen.
As Pauline was pa.s.sing through the corridor, Miss Hastings met her. The governess looked scrutinizingly at the plain evening dress; it was the same that she had worn yesterday. Evidently there was no girlish desire to attract.
"Pauline, we shall have a visitor this evening," said Miss Hastings; "you might add a few flowers to your dress."
She pa.s.sed on, with a smile of a.s.sent. Almost the first thing that caught her attention out of doors was a large and handsome fuchsia. She gathered a spray of the rich purple and crimson flowers, and placed it negligently in her hair. Many women would have stood before their mirror for an hour without producing the same superb effect. Then she placed another spray of the same gorgeous flowers in the bodice of her dress.
It was all done without effort, and she would have been the last in the world to suspect how beautiful she looked. Then she went on to the fountain, for the beautiful, calm evening had awakened all the poet"s soul within her. The grand, sensitive nature thrilled--the beautiful, poetic mind reveled in this hour of nature"s most supreme loveliness. A thousand bright fancies surged through her heart and brain; a thousand poetical ideas shaped themselves into words, and rose to her lips.
So time pa.s.sed, and she was unconscious of it, until a shadow falling over the great white lilies warned her that some one was near.
Looking up quickly, she saw a tall, fair, handsome young man gazing at her with mingled admiration and surprise. Beside him stood Sir Oswald, courtly, gracious, and evidently on the alert.