her place in the lap of
luxury, who shuddered at poverty or care.

Such was Elinor Darrell; and she entered the drawing-room now with that
soft, gliding movement that seemed always to irritate Pauline. She drew
a costly white lace shawl over her fair shoulders--the rich dress of
silver and white was studded with pearls. She looked like a fairy
vision.

"I think," she said to Miss Hastings, in her quiet, calm way, "that the
evening is cold."

"You have just left a warm country, Lady Darrell," was the gentle reply.
"The South of France is blessed with one of the most beautiful climates
in the world."

"It was very pleasant," said Lady Darrell, with a dreamy little sigh.
"You have been very quiet, I suppose? We must try to create a little
more gayety for you."

She looked anxiously across the room at Pauline; but that young lady's
attention was entirely engrossed by the crimson flowers of the beautiful
plant. Not one line of the superb figure, not one expression of the
proud face, was lost upon Lady Darrell.

"I have been saying to Sir Oswald," she continued, looking intently at
the costly rings shining on her fingers, "that youth likes gayety--we
must have a series of parties and balls."

"Is she beginning to patronize me?" thought Pauline.

She smiled to herself--a peculiar smile which Lady Darrell happened to
catch, and which made her feel very uncomfortable; and then an awkward
silence fell over them, only broken by the entrance of Sir Oswald, and
the announcement that dinner was served.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A RICH GIFT DECLINED.

The bride's first dinner at home was over, and had been a great success.
Lady Darrell had not evinced the least emotion; she had married for her
present social position--for a fine house, troops of servants,
beautiful, warm, fragrant rooms, choice wines, and luxurious living; it
was only part and parcel of what she expected, and intended to have. She
took the chair of state provided for her, and by the perfect ease and
grace of her manner proved that she was well fitted for it.

Sir Oswald watched her with keen delight, only regretting that years ago
he had not taken unto himself a wife. He was most courtly, most
deferential, most attractive. If Lady Darrell did occasionally feel
weary, and the memory of Aubrey Langton's face rose between her and her
husband, she made no sign.

When the three ladies withdrew, she made no further efforts to
conciliate Pauline. She looked a