rless," she said, sharply. "In England it seems
to me that everybody is alike. You have no individuality, no character."

"If character means, in your sense of the word, ill-nature, so much the
better," rejoined Miss Hastings. "All good-hearted people strive to save
each other from pain."

"I wonder," said Pauline, thoughtfully, "if I shall like Captain
Langton! We have been living here quietly enough; but I feel as though
some great change were coming. You have no doubt experienced that
peculiar sensation which comes over one just before a heavy
thunder-storm? I have that strange, half-nervous, half-restless
sensation now."

"You will try to be amiable, Pauline," put in the governess, quietly.
"You see that Sir Oswald evidently thinks a great deal of this young
friend of his. You will try not to shock your uncle in any way--not to
violate those little conventionalities that he respects so much."

"I will do my best; but I must be myself--always myself. I cannot assume
a false character."

"Then let it be your better self," said the governess, gently; and for
one minute Pauline Darrell was touched.

"That sweet creature, Lady Hampton's niece, will be here next week," she
remarked, after a short pause. "What changes will be brought into our
lives, I wonder?"

Of all the changes possible, least of all she expected the tragedy that
afterward happened.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE INTRODUCTION.

It was a never-to-be-forgotten evening when Captain Langton reached
Darrell Court--an evening fair, bright, and calm. The sweet southern
wind bore the perfume of flowers; the faint ripples of the fountains,
the musical song of the birds, seemed almost to die away on the evening
breeze; the sun appeared unwilling to leave the sapphire sky, the
flowers unwilling to close. Pauline had lingered over her books until
she could remain in-doors no longer; then, by Miss Hastings' desire, she
dressed for dinner--which was delayed for an hour--and afterward went
into the garden.

Most girls would have remembered, as they dressed, that a handsome young
officer was coming; Miss Darrell did not make the least change in her
usual toilet. The thin, fine dress of crape fell in statuesque folds
round the splendid figure; the dark hair was drawn back from the
beautiful brow, and negligently fastened with her favorite silver arrow;
the white neck and fair rounded arms gleamed like white marble through
the thin folds of crape. There was no