rity when Darrell Court should be hers.

It was not that she wished for it at once. She did not love Sir
Oswald--their natures were too antagonistic for that; but she did not
wish--indeed, she was incapable of wishing--that his life should be
shortened even for one hour. She only remembered that in the course of
time this grand inheritance must be hers. How she would help those
artist-friends of her father's! What orders she would give them, what
pictures she would buy, what encouragement she would give to art and
literature! How she would foster genius! How she would befriend the
clever and gifted poor ones of the earth!

The beautiful moonlight seemed to grow fairer, the blue, starry heavens
nearer, as the grand and gracious possibilities of her life revealed
themselves to her. Her heart grew warm, her soul trembled with delight.

And then--then there would be something dearer and fairer than all
this--something that comes to every woman--her birthright--something
that would complete her life, that would change it, that would make
music of every word, and harmony of every action. The time would come
when love would find her out, when the fairy prince would wake her from
her magic sleep. She was pure and spotless as the white lilies standing
near her; the breath of love had never passed over her. There had been
no long, idle conversations with young girls on the subject of love and
lovers; her heart was a blank page. But there came to her that night, as
she stood dreaming her maiden dreams among the flowers, an idea of how
she could love, and of what manner of man he would be who should win her
love.

Was she like Undine? Were there depths in her heart and soul which could
not be reached until love had brought them to light? She felt in herself
great capabilities that had never yet been exercised or called into
action. Love would complete her life; it would be the sun endowing the
flowers with life, warmth, and fragrance.

What manner of man must he be who would wake this soul of hers to
perfect life? She had seen no one yet capable of doing so. The mind that
mastered hers must be a master-mind; the soul that could bring her soul
into subjection must be a grand soul, a just soul, noble and generous.

Ah, well, the moonlight was fair, and the flowers were fair. Soon,
perhaps, this fair dream of hers might be realized, and then----

CHAPTER XVIII.

REJECTED.

A shadow came between Pauline and the moonli