tting it into shape."

"I am afraid," he observed, "people will make remarks; and I have heard
more than one doubt expressed as to what kind of hands Darrell Court is
likely to fall into should I make Pauline my heiress. You see she is
capable of almost anything. She would turn the place into an asylum; she
would transform it into a college for philosophers, a home for needy
artists--in fact, anything that might occur to her--without the least
hesitation."

Miss Hastings could not deny it. They were not speaking of a manageable
nineteenth century young lady, but of one to whom no ordinary rules
applied, whom no customary measures fitted.

"I have a letter here," continued Sir Oswald, "from Captain Aubrey
Langton, the son of one of my oldest and dearest friends. He proposes to
pay me a visit, and--pray, Miss Hastings, pardon me for suggesting such
a thing, but I should be so glad if he would fall in love with Pauline.
I have an idea that love might educate and develop her more quickly than
anything else."

Miss Hastings had already thought the same thing; but she knew whoever
won the love of such a girl as Pauline Darrell would be one of the
cleverest of men.

"I am writing to him to tell him that I hope he will remain with us for
a month; and during that time I hope, I fervently hope, he may fall in
love with my niece. She is beautiful enough. Pardon me again, Miss
Hastings, but has she ever spoken to you of love or lovers?"

"No. She is in that respect, as in many others, quite unlike the
generality of girls. I have never heard an allusion to such matters from
her lips--never once."

This fact seemed to Sir Oswald stranger than any other; he had an idea
that girls devoted the greater part of their thoughts to such subjects.

"Do you think," he inquired, "that she cared for any one in Paris--any
of those men, for instance, whom she used to meet at her father's?"

"No," replied Miss Hastings; "I do not think so. She is strangely
backward in all such respects, although she was brought up entirely
among gentlemen."

"Among--pardon me, my dear madame, not gentlemen--members, we will say,
of a gentlemanly profession."

Sir Oswald took from his gold snuff-box a pinch of most
delicately-flavored snuff, and looked as though he thought the very
existence of such people a mistake.

"Any little influence that you may possess over my niece, Miss Hastings,
will you kindly use in Captain Langton's favor? Of course, if