means.
The difficulty is to answer; for I am really doing nothing, and I do not
know how to describe 'nothing.'"

"Why did you come hither?" he asked.

"To dream," replied the musical voice. "I think the sound of falling
water is the sweetest music in the world. I came here to enjoy it, and
to dream over it."

Sir Oswald looked very uncomfortable.

"Considering, Pauline, how much you have been neglected, do you not
think you might spend your time more profitably--in educating yourself,
for example?"

"This is educating myself. I am teaching myself beautiful thoughts, and
nature just now is my singing mistress." And then the speaker's voice
suddenly changed, and a ring of passion came into it. "Who says that I
have been neglected? When you say that, you speak ill of my dear dead
father, and no one shall do that in my presence. You speak slander, and
slander ill becomes an English gentleman. If I was neglected when my
father was alive, I wish to goodness such neglect were my portion now!"

Sir Oswald shrugged his shoulders.

"Each one to his or her taste, Pauline. With very little more of such
neglect you would have been a----"

He paused; perhaps some instinct of prudence warned him.

"A what?" she demanded, scornfully. "Pray finish the sentence, Sir
Oswald."

"My dear, you are too impulsive, too hasty. You want more quietness of
manner, more dignity."

Her voice deepened in its tones as she asked:

"I should have been a what, Sir Oswald? I never begin a sentence and
leave it half finished. You surely are not afraid to finish it?"

"No, my dear," was the calm reply; "there never yet was a Darrell afraid
of anything on earth. If you particularly wish me to do so, I will
finish what I was about to say. You would have been a confirmed
Bohemian, and nothing could have made you a lady."

"I love what you call Bohemians, and I detest what you call ladies, Sir
Oswald," was the angry retort.

"Most probably; but then, you see, Pauline, the ladies of the house of
Darrell have always been ladies--high-bred, elegant women. I doubt if
any of them ever knew what the word 'Bohemian' meant."

She laughed a little scornful laugh, which yet was sweet and clear as
the sound of silver bells.

"I had almost forgotten," said Sir Oswald. "I came to speak to you about
something, Pauline; will you come into the house with me?"

They walked on together in silence for some minutes, and then Sir Oswald
began:

"I went to