t the least attempt at ornament;
yet no queen arrayed in royal robes ever looked more lovely.

Pauline was a great lover of the picturesque. With a single flower, a
solitary knot of ribbon, she could produce an effect which many women
would give all their jewels to achieve. Whatever she wore took a kind of
royal grace from herself which no other person could impart. Though her
dress might be made of the same material as that of others, it never
looked the same. On her it appeared like the robes of a queen.

As Pauline was passing through the corridor, Miss Hastings met her. The
governess looked scrutinizingly at the plain evening dress; it was the
same that she had worn yesterday. Evidently there was no girlish desire
to attract.

"Pauline, we shall have a visitor this evening," said Miss Hastings;
"you might add a few flowers to your dress."

She passed on, with a smile of assent. Almost the first thing that
caught her attention out of doors was a large and handsome fuchsia. She
gathered a spray of the rich purple and crimson flowers, and placed it
negligently in her hair. Many women would have stood before their mirror
for an hour without producing the same superb effect. Then she placed
another spray of the same gorgeous flowers in the bodice of her dress.
It was all done without effort, and she would have been the last in the
world to suspect how beautiful she looked. Then she went on to the
fountain, for the beautiful, calm evening had awakened all the poet's
soul within her. The grand, sensitive nature thrilled--the beautiful,
poetic mind reveled in this hour of nature's most supreme loveliness. A
thousand bright fancies surged through her heart and brain; a thousand
poetical ideas shaped themselves into words, and rose to her lips.

So time passed, and she was unconscious of it, until a shadow falling
over the great white lilies warned her that some one was near.

Looking up quickly, she saw a tall, fair, handsome young man gazing at
her with mingled admiration and surprise. Beside him stood Sir Oswald,
courtly, gracious, and evidently on the alert.

"Captain Langton," he said, "let me introduce you to my niece, Miss
Darrell."

Not one feature of the girl's proud, beautiful face moved, but there was
some little curiosity in her dark eyes. They rested for a minute on the
captain's face, and then, with a dreamy look, she glanced over the heads
of the white lilies behind him. He was not her ideal, not her he