e Miss Hastings," she said at last, "and it is quite useless
going to the aviary without her. I do not remember the name of a single
bird; and I am sure you will not care for them."

"But," he returned, hesitatingly, "Sir Oswald seemed to wish it."

"There is the first dinner-bell," she said, with an air of great relief;
"there will only just be time to return. As you seem solicitous about
Sir Oswald's wishes we had better go in, for he dearly loves
punctuality."

"I believe," thought the captain, "that she is anxious to get away from
me. I must say that I am not accustomed to this kind of thing."

The aspect of the dining-room, with its display of fine old plate, the
brilliantly arranged tables, the mingled odor of rare wines and flowers,
restored him to good humor.

"It would be worth some little trouble," he thought, "to win all this."

He took Pauline in to dinner. The grand, pale, passionate beauty of the
girl had never shown to greater advantage than it did this evening, as
she sat with the purple and crimson fuchsias in her hair and the broken
lily in her belt. Sir Oswald did not notice the latter until dinner was
half over. Then he said:

"Why, Pauline, with gardens and hothouses full of flowers, have you
chosen a broken one?"

"To me it is exquisite," she replied.

The captain's face darkened for a moment, but he would not take offense.
The elegantly appointed table, the seductive dinner, the rare wines, all
made an impression on him. He said to himself that there was a good
thing offered to him, and that a girl's haughty temper should not stand
in his way. He made himself most agreeable, he was all animation,
vivacity, and high spirits with Sir Oswald. He was deferential and
attentive to Miss Hastings, and his manner to Pauline left no doubt in
the minds of the lookers on that he was completely fascinated by her.
She was too proudly indifferent, too haughtily careless, even to resent
it. Sir Oswald Darrell was too true a gentleman to offer his niece to
any one; but he had given the captain to understand that, if he could
woo her and win her, there would be no objection raised on his part.

For once in his life Captain Langton had spoken quite truthfully.

"I have nothing," he said; "my father left me but a very moderate
fortune, and I have lost the greater part of it. I have not been careful
or prudent, Sir Oswald."

"Care and prudence are not the virtues of youth," Sir Oswald returned.
"I may sa