een found.

It was very shocking, very terrible. Society was distressed. The body
lay at the "Darrell Arms" until all arrangements had been made for the
funeral. Such a funeral had never been seen in Audleigh Royal. Rich and
poor, every one attended.

Captain Langton was buried in the pretty little cemetery at Audleigh;
and people, as they stood round the grave, whispered to each other that,
although the horse that killed him had cost over a hundred pounds, Sir
Peter Glynn had ordered it to be shot.

Then, when the autumn had faded into winter, the accident was forgotten.
Something else happened which drove it from people's minds, and the
tragedy of Audleigh Royal became a thing of the past.

Pauline did not return to Omberleigh. Miss Hastings was dreadfully
shocked when she received a letter telling her of Captain Langton's
death and of Lady Darrell's serious illness. No persuasions could induce
her to remain longer away. She returned that same day to the Court, and
insisted upon taking her share in the nursing of Lady Darrell.

Lady Hampton looked upon the captain's accident as the direct
interposition of Providence. Of course such a death was very shocking,
very terrible; but certainly it had never been a match she approved;
and, after all, say what one would, everything had happened for the
best.

Lady Hampton went over to Darrell Court, and assisted in attending to
the invalid; but her thoughts ran more on Lord Aynsley, and the chances
of his renewing his offer, than on anything else. Elinor would soon
recover, there was no fear; the shock to her nerves had been great, but
people never died of nervousness; and, when she did get well, Lady
Hampton intended to propose a season in London.

But Lady Darrell did not get well as soon as Lady Hampton had
anticipated. Indeed, more than one clever doctor, on leaving her
presence, shook his head gravely, and said it was doubtful whether Lady
Darrell would ever recover at all; the shock to her nerves had been
terrible.

But there was something to be said also of a blighted life and a broken
heart.

Autumn had drifted into winter; and one morning Lady Darrell, who had
been sleeping more soundly than usual, suddenly turned to Pauline, who
seldom left her.

"Pauline," she whispered, "you have not told any one, have you?"

"Told what?" she inquired.

"About poor Aubrey's faults. I know now that he was guilty. Strange,
solemn thoughts, strange revelations, come to