you here."

"I am waiting," said the girl, her dark eyes lit by a fire that was not
pleasant to see--"I am waiting here for my revenge."

"Oh, Pauline!" cried Miss Hastings, in real distress. "My dear child,
you must forget such things. I do not like to hear such a word from your
lips."

Pauline smiled as she looked at her governess, but there was something
almost terrible in the calm smile.

"What do you think I am living here for--waiting here in patience for? I
tell you, nothing but the vengeance I have promised myself--and it shall
be mine!"

CHAPTER XXX.

WILL FATE AID PAULINE?

Six months had passed since Sir Oswald's death, and his widow had
already put away her cap and heavy weeds. Six months of retirement, she
considered, were a very handsome acknowledgment of all her husband's
love and kindness. She was in a state of serene and perfect
self-content--everything had gone well with her. People had expressed
their admiration of her devotion to his memory. She knew that in the
eyes of the world she was esteemed faultless. And now it seemed to Lady
Darrell that the time was come in which she might really enjoy herself,
and reap the reward of her sacrifice.

The "armed neutrality" between Pauline and herself still continued. Each
went her own way--their interests never clashed. Lady Darrell rather
preferred that Pauline should remain at the Court. She had a vague kind
of fear of her, a vague dread that made her feel safer where Pauline
was, and where she could know something of her. Whole days would pass
without their meeting; but, now that there was to be a little more
gayety at Darrell Court, the two must expect to be brought into daily
communication.

Lady Darrell was an amiable woman. It was true she had a small soul,
capable of maintaining small ideas only. She would have liked to be what
she called "comfortable" with Pauline--to live on sisterly terms with
her--to spend long hours in discussing dress, ornaments, fashionable
gossip--to feel that there was always some one at hand to listen to her
and to amuse her. She, in her turn, would have been most generous. She
would have made ample presents of dresses and jewels to such a friend;
she would have studied her comfort and interests. But to expect or to
hope for a companion of that kind in Pauline was as though some humble
little wood-blossom could hope to train itself round a grand, stately,
sad passion-flower.

Lady Darrell's worldly know