Part 12 (1/2)

”No; what should he say? He seemed very much surprised, I suppose, as he says most people like him. But I do not, and never shall.”

One thing was certain, the captain was falling most pa.s.sionately in love with Miss Darrell. Her grand beauty, her pride, her originality, all seemed to have an irresistible charm for him.

CHAPTER XII.

ELINOR ROCHEFORD.

It was a morning in August, when a gray mist hung over the earth, a mist that resulted from the intense heat, and through which trees, flowers, and fountains loomed faintly like shadows. The sun showed his bright face at intervals, but, though he withheld his gracious presence, the heat and warmth were great; the air was laden with perfume, and the birds were all singing as though they knew that the sun would soon reappear.

One glance at her pupil's face showed Miss Hastings there was not much to be done in the way of study. Pauline wanted to watch the mist rise from the hills and trees. She wanted to see the sunbeams grow bright and golden.

”Let us read under the lime trees, Miss Hastings,” she said, and Captain Langton smiled approval. For the time was come when he followed her like her shadow; when he could not exist out of her presence; when his pa.s.sionate love mastered him, and brought him, a very slave, to her feet; when the hope of winning her was dearer to him than life itself; when he would have sacrificed even Darrell Court for the hope of calling her his wife.

If she knew of his pa.s.sion, she made no sign; she never relaxed from her haughty, careless indifference; she never tried in the least to make herself agreeable to him.

Sir Oswald watched her with keen eyes, and Miss Hastings trembled lest misfortune should come upon the girl she was learning to love so dearly.

She saw and understood that the baronet was slowly but surely making up his mind; if Pauline married the captain, he would make her his heiress; if not, she would never inherit Darrell Court.

On this August morning they formed a pretty group under the shadowy, graceful limes. Miss Hastings held in her hands some of the fine fancy work which delights ladies; the captain reclined on a tiger-skin rug on the gra.s.s, looking very handsome, for, whatever might be his faults of mind, he was one of the handsomest men in England. Pauline, as usual, was beautiful, graceful, and piquant, wearing a plain morning dress of some gray material--a dress which on any one else would have looked plain, but which she had made picturesque and artistic by a dash of scarlet--and a pomegranate blossom in her hair. Her lovely face looked more than usually n.o.ble under the influence of the words she was reading.

”Tennyson again!” said the captain, as she opened the book. ”It is to be regretted that the poet cannot see you, Miss Darrell, and know how highly you appreciate his works.”

She never smiled nor blushed at his compliments, as she had seen other girls do. She had a fas.h.i.+on of fixing her bright eyes on him, and after one glance he generally was overcome with confusion before his compliment was ended. .

”I should not imagine that anything I could say would flatter a poet,”

she replied, thoughtfully. ”Indeed he is, I should say, as far above blame as praise.”

Then, without noticing him further, she went on reading. Captain Langton's eyes never left her face; its pale, grand beauty glowed and changed, the dark eyes grew radiant, the beautiful lips quivered with emotion. He thought to himself that a man might lay down his life and every hope in it to win such love as hers.

Suddenly she heard the sound of voices, and looking up saw Sir Oswald escorting two ladies.

”What a tiresome thing!” grumbled the captain. ”We can never be alone a single hour.”

”I thought you enjoyed society so much!” she said.

”I am beginning to care for no society on earth but yours,” he whispered, his face flus.h.i.+ng, while she turned haughtily away.

”You are proud,” murmured the captain to himself--”you are as haughty as you are beautiful; but I will win you yet.”

Then Sir Oswald, with his visitors, advanced. It was Pauline's aversion, Lady Hampton, with her niece, Miss Rocheford.

Lady Hampton advanced in her usual grave, artificial manner.

”Sir Oswald wanted to send for you, but I said 'no.' What can be more charming than such a group under the trees? I am so anxious to introduce my niece to you, Miss Darrell--she arrived only yesterday.