d alike to
her; she would look at her hands, and say:

"Oh! Elinor, I wish I could give you one-half my strength--one-half my
life!"

"Do you? Pauline, if you could give me half your life, would you do
so?"

"As willingly as I am now speaking to you," she would answer.

They dressed the poor lady, whose delicate beauty had faded like some
summer flower. She sat at the window in a soft nest of cushions which
Pauline had prepared for her, her wasted hands folded, her worn face
brightened with the summer sunshine. She was very silent and thoughtful
for some time, and then Pauline, fearing that she was dull, knelt in the
fashion that was usual to her at Lady Darrell's feet, and held the
wasted hands in hers.

"What are you thinking about, Elinor?" Pauline asked. "Something as
bright as the sunshine?"

Lady Darrell smiled.

"I was just fancying to myself that every blossom of that white magnolia
seemed like a finger beckoning me away," she said; "and I was thinking
also how full of mistakes life is, and how plainly they can be seen when
we come to die."

Pauline kissed the thin fingers. Lady Darrell went on.

"I can see my own great mistake, Pauline. I should not have married Sir
Oswald. I had no love for him--not the least in the world; I married him
only for position and fortune. I should have taken your warning, and not
have come between your uncle and you. His resentment would have died
away, for I am quite sure that in his heart he loved you; he would have
forgiven you, and I should have had a happier, longer life. That was my
mistake--my one great mistake. Another was that I had a certain kind of
doubt about poor Aubrey. I cannot explain it; but I know that I doubted
him even when I loved him, and I should have waited some time before
placing the whole happiness of my life in his hands. Yet it seems hard
to pay for those mistakes with my life, does it not?"

And Pauline, to whom all sweet and womanly tenderness seemed to come by
instinct, soothed Lady Darrell with loving words until she smiled again.

"Pauline," she said, suddenly, "I wish to communicate something to you.
I wish to tell you that I have made my will, and have left Darrell Court
to you, together with all the fortune Sir Oswald left me. I took your
inheritance from you once, dear; now I restore it to you. I have left my
aunt, Lady Hampton, a thousand a year; you will not mind that--it comes
back to you at her death."

"I do not deserve you