"He must be pure, or he would make immorality the fashion; honorable, because men will take their notions of honor from him; just, that justice may abound; upright, stainless. You see all that, Pauline?"
"Yes," she a.s.sented, quickly.
"No men have so much to answer for," continued Sir Oswald, "as the great ones of the land--men in whose hands power is vested--men to whom others look for example, on whose lives other lives are modeled--men who, as it were, carry the minds, if not the souls, of their fellow men in the hollows of their hands."
Pauline looked more impressed, and insensibly drew nearer to him.
"Such men, I thank Heaven," he said, standing bareheaded as he uttered the words, "have the Darrells been--loyal, upright, honest, honorable, of stainless repute, of stainless life, fitted to rule their fellow men--grand men, sprung from a grand old race. And at times women have reigned here--women whose names have lived in the annals of the land--who have been as shining lights from the purity, the refinement, the grandeur of their lives."
He spoke with a pa.s.sion of eloquence not lost on the girl by his side.
"I," he continued, humbly, "am one of the least worthy of my race. I have done nothing for its advancement; but at the same time I have done nothing to disgrace it. I have carried on the honors pa.s.sively. The time is coming when Darrell Court must pa.s.s into other hands. Now, Pauline, you have heard, you know what the ruler of Darrell Court should be. Tell me, are you fitted to take your place here?"
"I am very young," she murmured.
"It is not a question of youth. Dame Sibella Darrell reigned here when she was only eighteen; and the sons she trained to succeed her were among the greatest statesmen England has ever known. She improved and enlarged the property; she died, after living here sixty years, beloved, honored, and revered. It is not a question of age."
"I am a Darrell!" said the girl, proudly.
"Yes, you have the face and figure of a Darrell; you bear the name, too; but you have not the grace and manner of a Darrell."
"Those are mere outward matters of polish and veneer," she said, impatiently.
"Nay, not so. You would not think it right to see an unformed, untrained, uneducated, ignorant girl at the head of such a house as this. What did you do yesterday? A maid displeased you. You boxed her ears. Just imagine it. Such a proceeding on the part of the mistress of Darrell Court would fill one with horror."
A slight smile rippled over the full crimson lips.
"Queen Elizabeth boxed her courtiers" ears," said the girl, "and it seemed right to her."
"A queen, Pauline, is hedged in by her own royalty; she may do what she will. The very fact that you are capable of defending an action so violent, so unlady-like, so opposed to all one"s ideas of feminine delicacy, proves that you are unfit for the position you ought to occupy."
"I am honest, at least. I make no pretensions to be what I am not."
"So is my butler honest, but that does not fit him to be master of Darrell Court. Honesty is but one quality--a good one, st.u.r.dy and strong; it requires not one, but many qualities to hold such a position as I would fain have you occupy."
Miss Darrell"s patience was evidently at an end.
"And the upshot of all this, Sir Oswald, is----"
"Exactly so--that I am anxious to give you every chance in my power--that I have found an estimable, refined, elegant woman, who will devote her time and talents to train you and fit you for society."
A low, musical laugh broke from the perfect lips.
"Have you any idea," she asked, "what I shall be like when I am trained?"
"Like a lady, I trust--a well-bred lady. I can imagine nothing more beautiful than that."
"When is she coming, this model of yours, Sir Oswald?"
"Nay, your model, niece, not mine. She is here now, and I wish to introduce her to you. I should like you, if possible," he concluded, meekly, "to make a favorable impression on her."
There was another impatient murmur.
"I wish you to understand, Pauline," he resumed, after a short pause, "that I shall expect you to render the most implicit obedience to Miss Hastings--to follow whatever rules she may lay down for you, to attend to your studies as she directs them, to pay the greatest heed to all her corrections, to copy her style, to imitate her manners, to----"
"I hate her!" was the impetuous outburst. "I would sooner be a beggar all my life than submit to such restraint."
"Very well," returned Sir Oswald, calmly. "I know that arguing with you is time lost. The choice lies with yourself. If you decide to do as I wish--to study to become a lady in the truest sense of the word--if you will fit yourself for the position, you shall be heiress of Darrell Court; if not--if you persist in your present unlady-like, unrefined, Bohemian manner, I shall leave the whole property to some one else. I tell you the plain truth without any disguise."
"I do not want Darrell Court!" she cried, pa.s.sionately; "it is a prison to me!"
"I excuse you," rejoined Sir Oswald, coldly; "you are excited, and so not answerable for what you say."
"Uncle," said the girl, "do you see that beautiful singing bird there, giving voice to such glorious melody? Do you think you could catch it and put it in a cage?"
"I have no doubt that I could," replied Sir Oswald.
"But, if you did," she persisted; "even suppose you could make it forget its own wild melodies, could you teach it to sing formally by note and at your will?"
"I have never supposed anything of the kind," said Sir Oswald. "You are possessed of far too much of that kind of nonsense. The young ladies of the present day--properly educated girls--do not talk in that way."
"I can easily believe it," she returned, bitterly.
"Miss Hastings is in the library," said Sir Oswald, as they entered the house. "I hope to see you receive her kindly. Put away that frown, Pauline, and smile if you can. Remember, it is characteristic of the Darrells to be gracious to strangers."
With these words Sir Oswald opened the library door, and holding his niece"s hand, entered the room. Miss Hastings rose to receive them. He led Pauline to her, and in the kindest manner possible introduced them to each other.
"I will leave you together," he said. "Pauline will show you your rooms, Miss Hastings; and I hope that you will soon feel happy, and quite at home with us."
Sir Oswald quitted the library, leaving the two ladies looking in silence at each other.
CHAPTER III.
"YOUR GOOD SOCIETY IS ALL DECEIT."
Miss Hastings had been prepared to see a hoiden, an awkward, unfledged schoolgirl, one who, never having seen much of good society, had none of the little graces and charms that distinguish young ladies. She had expected to see a tall, gaunt girl, with red hands, and a general air of not knowing what to do with herself--that was the idea she had formed.
She gazed in wonder at the reality--a magnificent figure--a girl whose grand, pale, statuesque beauty was something that could never be forgotten. There was nothing of the boarding-school young lady about her; no acquired graces. She was simply magnificent--no other word could describe her. Miss Hastings, as she looked at her, thought involuntarily of the graceful lines, the beautiful curves, the grand, free grace of the world-renowned Diana of the Louvre; there was the same arched, graceful neck, the same royal symmetry, the same harmony of outline.
In one of the most celebrated art galleries of Rome Miss Hastings remembered to have seen a superb bust of Juno; as she looked at her new pupil, she could almost fancy that its head had been modeled from hers.
Pauline"s head was royal in its queenly contour; the brow low, white, and rounded at the temples; the hair, waving in lines of inexpressible beauty, was loosely gathered together and fastened behind with a gleaming silver arrow. The eyes were perhaps the most wonderful feature in that wonderful face; they were dark as night itself, somewhat in hue like a purple heartsease, rich, soft, dreamy, yet at times all fire, all brightness, filled with pa.s.sion more intense than any words, and shining then with a strange half-golden light. The brows were straight, dark, and beautiful; the lips crimson, full, and exquisitely shaped; the mouth looked like one that could persuade or contemn--that could express tenderness or scorn, love or pride, with the slightest play of the lips.
Every att.i.tude the girl a.s.sumed was full of unconscious grace. She did not appear to be in the least conscious of her wonderful beauty. She had walked to the window, and stood leaning carelessly against the frame, one beautiful arm thrown above her head, as though she were weary, and would fain rest--an att.i.tude that could not have been surpa.s.sed had she studied it for years.
"You are not at all what I expected to see," said Miss Hastings, at last. "You are, indeed, so different that I am taken by surprise."