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
passionate 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 passion, 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 grass, 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 noble 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 fashion 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,