on his face, walked away.

"So you have an aviary at the Court, Miss Darrell. It seems to me there
is nothing wanting here. You do not seem interested; you do not like
birds?"

"Not caged ones," she replied. "I love birds almost as though they were
living friends, but not bright-plumaged birds in golden cages. They
should be free and wild in the woods and forests, filling the summer air
with joyous song. I love them well then."

"You like unrestricted freedom?" he observed.

"I do not merely like it, I deem it an absolute necessity. I should not
care for life without it."

The captain looked more attentively at her. It was the Darrell face,
surely enough--features of perfect beauty, with a soul of fire shining
through them.

"Yet," he said, musingly, cautiously feeling his way, "there is but
little freedom--true freedom--for women. They are bound down by a
thousand narrow laws and observances--caged by a thousand restraints."

"There is no power on earth," she returned, hastily, "that can control
thoughts or cage souls; while they are free, it is untrue to say that
there is no freedom."

A breath of fragrant wind came and stirred the great white lilies. The
gallant captain saw at once that he should only lose in arguments with
her.

"Shall we visit the aviary?" he asked.

And she walked slowly down the path, he following.

"She is like an empress," he thought. "It will be all the more glory for
me if I can win such a wife for my own."

CHAPTER IX.

THE BROKEN LILY.

Pauline Darrell was a keen, shrewd observer of character. She judged
more by small actions than by great ones; it was a characteristic of
hers. When women have that gift, it is more to be dreaded than the cool,
calm, matured judgment of men. Men err sometimes in their estimate of
character, but it is very seldom that a woman makes a similar mistake.

The garden path widened where the tall white lilies grew in rich
profusion, and there Pauline and Captain Langton walked side by side.
The rich, sweet perfume seemed to gather round them, and the dainty
flowers, with their shining leaves and golden bracts, looked like great
white stars.

Captain Langton carried a small cane in his hand. He had begun to talk
to Pauline with great animation. Her proud indifference piqued him. He
was accustomed to something more like rapture when he devoted himself to
any fair lady. He vowed to himself that he would vanquish her pride,
that he would m