ed man! Was ever so splendid a chance lost? It drove him mad to
think of it! All was due to the willful caprice of a willful girl.

Then he remembered that time was passing, and that he must tell Sir
Oswald that he had failed--utterly, ignominiously failed. He went back
to the ball-room and saw the baronet standing in the center of a group
of gentlemen. He looked anxiously at the captain, and at his approach
the little group fell back, leaving them alone.

"What news, Aubrey?" asked Sir Oswald.

"The worst that I can possibly bring. She would not even hear of it."

"And you think there is no hope either now or at any future time?"

"I am, unfortunately, sure of it. She told me in plain words that she
would rather die than marry me, and she laughed at your threats."

Sir Oswald's face flushed; he turned away haughtily.

"The consequence be on her own head!" he said, as he moved away. "I
shall make Elinor Rocheford an offer to-night," he added to himself.

The captain was in no mood for dancing; the music and light had lost all
their charms. The strains of a beautiful German waltz filled the
ball-room. Looking round, he saw Pauline Darrell, in all the sheen of
her jewels and the splendor of her golden-hued dress, waltzing with Lord
Lorrimer. Her beautiful face was radiant; she had evidently forgotten
all about him and the threat that was to disinherit her.

Sir Oswald saw her too as he was searching for Elinor--saw her radiant,
triumphant, and queenly--and almost hated her for the grand dower of
loveliness that would never now enhance the grandeur of the Darrells. He
found Elinor Rocheford with Lady Hampton. She had been hoping that the
captain would ask her to dance again. She looked toward him with a feint
smile, but was recalled to order by a gesture from Lady Hampton.

Sir Oswald, with a low bow, asked if Miss Rocheford would like a
promenade through the rooms. She would fain have said "No," but one look
from her aunt was sufficient. She rose in her quiet, graceful way, and
accompanied him.

They walked to what was called the white drawing-room, and there,
standing before a magnificent Murillo, the gem of the Darrell
collection, Sir Oswald Darrell made Elinor Rocheford a quiet offer of
his hand and fortune.

Just as quietly she accepted it; there was no blushing, no trembling, no
shrinking. He asked her to be Lady Darrell, and she consented. There was
very little said of love, although his wooing was chiva