ings, with a
smile; "but the question is not so much what we like ourselves as what
others like in us. However, we will discuss that at another time, Miss
Darrell."

"Has my uncle told you that if I please him--if I can be molded into the
right form--I am to be heiress of Darrell Court?" she asked, quickly.

"Yes; and now that I have seen you I am persuaded that you can be
anything you wish."

"Do you think, then, that I am clever?" she asked, eagerly.

"I should imagine so," replied Miss Hastings. "Pauline--I need not call
you Miss Darrell--I hope we shall be friends; I trust we shall be happy
together."

"It is not very likely," she said, slowly, "that I can like you, Miss
Hastings."

"Why not?" asked the governess, astonished at her frankness.

"Because you are to correct me; continual correction will be a great
annoyance, and will prevent my really liking you."

Miss Hastings looked astounded.

"That may be, Pauline," she said; "but do you know that it is not
polite of you to say so? In good society one does not tell such
unpleasant truths."

"That is just it," was the eager retort; "that is why I do not like good
society, and shall never be fit for it. I am truthful by nature. In my
father's house and among his friends there was never any need to conceal
the truth; we always spoke it frankly. If we did not like each other, we
said so. But here, it seems to me, the first lesson learned to fit one
for society is to speak falsely."

"Not so, Pauline; but, when the truth is likely to hurt another's
feelings, to wound susceptibility or pride, why speak it, unless it is
called for?"

Pauline moved her white arms with a superb gesture of scorn.

"I would rather any day hear the truth and have my mind hurt," she said,
energetically, "than feel that people were smiling at me and deceiving
me. Lady Hampton visits Sir Oswald. I do not like her, and she does not
like me; but she always asks Sir Oswald how his 'dear niece' is, and she
calls me a 'sweet creature--original, but very sweet' You can see for
yourself, Miss Hastings, that I am not that."

"Indeed, you are not sweet," returned the governess, smiling; "but,
Pauline, you are a mimic, and mimicry is a dangerous gift."

She had imitated Lady Hampton's languid tones and affected accent to
perfection.

"Sir Oswald bows and smiles all the time Lady Hampton is talking to him;
he stands first upon one foot, and then upon the other. You would
think, to lis