rtainly not. I often contrast him with a Captain Lafosse, who used to
visit us in the Rue d'Orme, a grand man with a brown, rugged face, and
great brown hands. Captain Langton is a coxcomb--neither more nor less,
Miss Hastings."

"But he is polished, refined, elegant in his manner and address, which,
perhaps, your friend with the brown, rugged face was not."

"We shall not agree, Miss Hastings, we shall not agree. I do not like
Captain Langton."

The governess, remembering all that Sir Oswald wished, tried in vain to
represent their visitor in a more favorable light. Miss Darrell simply
looked haughty and unconvinced.

"I am years younger than you," she said, at last, "and have seen nothing
of what you call 'life'; but the instinct of my own heart tells me that
he is false in heart, in mind, in soul; he has a false, flattering
tongue, false lips, false principles--we will not speak of him."

Miss Hastings looked at her sadly.

"Do you not think that in time, perhaps, you may like him better?"

"No," was the blunt reply, "I do not. I told him that I did not like
him, but that I would take some time to consider whether he was to be a
friend of mine or not; and the conclusion I have arrived at is, that I
could not endure his friendship."

"When did you tell him that you did not like him?" asked Miss Hastings,
gravely.

"I think it was the first night he came," she replied.

Miss Hastings looked relieved.

"Did he say anything else to you, Pauline?" she asked, gently.

"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 passionately 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