but the
owner of the house. Are you ready for that, dear child?'

And Pauline answered humbly:--

'I want the very best God has to give me.'

_Chapter VII_

A GREAT SURRENDER

The beautiful summer had slipped away and the glory of October was over
the land. Pauline had crossed the borders and plunged, with all the zest
of her thirsty soul, into the fair world of knowledge which lay
stretched at her feet. Her three months of conscientious study had been
of great service as a preparatory training, and already more than one of
the professors had complimented her on her breadth of view, and the
rapidity with which she was able to grasp an idea.

A subtle sense of power stole over her. Every part of her being seemed
to expand In the congenial atmosphere. A brilliant future seemed
opening before her enraptured gaze. The world should be the better for
her life. God had endowed her with gifts. She would lay them at His
feet. She would devote herself to the up-lifting of others. She would
strive to lift them from the torpor of their common-place into a higher
life. Life was magnificent! Poor Tryphosa, in her narrow sphere of pain,
how could she be so happy!

Belle hurried along the hall and stopped at the door of the blue-draped
chamber.

'My dear Paul, do you know we are all waiting? What have you been doing?
If I could only get a snapshot at you now I should call it "The
Intoxication of Success." You would make a splendid Jeanne d'Arc, with
the light of high and holy purpose in her eyes; but as this is the last
Saturday in the year that we shall have the chance of a ride to Forest
Glen and home by moonlight, I move that we postpone our rhapsodies
until a more convenient season. The boys are waiting below with the
horses, and the servants started long ago with the hampers. Even Gwen
has been wooed by the beauty of the morning to accompany us, though I
think there are about a dozen meetings on her calendar. Here is a letter
for you, but you have no time to read it now.'

'Have I kept you? Oh, I am sorry!' and catching up her silver-mounted
riding whip Pauline threw her habit over her arm, and ran down to where
Richard Everidge held the handsome bay mare which had been her uncle's
gift. The letter she had tossed lightly on the table. It was from her
father, but it would keep. There was never any news at Sleepy Hollow.

Aunt Rutha watched the merry party as they cantered off.

'How well Pauline looks in the s