u must not, indeed, say these things; they are most
unlady-like."

"I begin to think that all truth is unlady-like," returned the girl,
with a laugh. "My favorite virtue does not wear court dress very
becomingly."

"I have never heard that it affects russet gowns either," said Miss
Hastings. "Oh, Pauline, if you would but understand social politeness,
social duties! If you would but keep your terrible ideas to yourself! If
you would but remember that the outward bearing of life must be as a
bright, shining, undisturbed surface! Do try to be more amiable to Lady
Darrell!"

"No!" exclaimed the girl, proudly. "I have warned her, and she has
chosen to disregard my warning. I shall never assume any false
appearance of amiability or friendship for her; it will be war to the
knife! I told her so, and she chose to disbelieve me. I am a Darrell,
and the Darrells never break their word."

Looking at her, the unstudied grace of her attitude, the perfect pose,
the grand face with its royal look of scorn, Miss Hastings felt that she
would rather have the girl for a friend than an enemy.

"I do hope, for your own sake, Pauline," she said, "that you will show
every respect to Lady Darrell. All your comfort will depend upon it. You
must really compromise matters."

"Compromise matters!" cried Pauline. "You had better tell the sea to
compromise with the winds which have lashed it into fury. There can be
no compromise with me."

The words had scarcely issued from her lips when the dinner-bell
sounded, and Lady Darrell entered in a beautiful evening dress of white
and silver. Certainly Sir Oswald's choice did him great credit. She was
one of the most delicate, the most graceful of women, fair, caressing,
insinuating--one of those women who would never dream of uttering
barbarous truth when elegant fiction so much better served their
purpose--who loved fine clothes, sweet perfumes, costly jewels--who
preferred their own comfort in a graceful, languid way to anything else
on earth--who expected to be waited upon and to receive all homage--who
deferred to men with a graceful, sweet submission that made them feel
the deference a compliment--who placed entire reliance upon others--whom
men felt a secret delight in ministering to, because they appeared so
weak--one of those who moved cautiously and graciously with subtle
harmonious action, whose hands were always soft and jeweled, whose touch
was light and gentle--a woman born to find