vely, sometimes with bitter tears and with sobs that came
from the depths of her heart, Pauline told her story--how the captain
had loved her, how ill he had taken her repulse, how she had discovered
his vile worthlessness, but for the sake of her revenge had said
nothing.

Lady Darrell listened as to her death-knell.

"Is this true, Pauline?" she cried. "You vowed vengeance against me--is
this your vengeance, to try to part me from the man I love, and to take
from me the only chance of happiness that my wretched life holds?"

Her fair face had grown deadly pale; all the light and the happiness had
fled from it; the pearls lay unheeded, the blue eyes grew dim with
tears.

"Is it possible, Pauline?" she cried again. "Have I given my love to one
dishonored? I cannot believe it--I will not believe it! It is part of
your vengeance against me. What have I done that you should hate me so?"

The dark eyes and the beautiful face were raised to hers.

"Dear Lady Darrell," said the girl, "I have never spoken a loving word
to you before; but I tell you now that, if I could give my life to save
you from this sorrow, I would do so."

"Aubrey Langton a thief!" cried Lady Darrell. "It is not true--I will
swear that it is not true! I love him, and you want to take him from me.
How could you dare to invent such a falsehood of him, a soldier and a
gentleman? You are cruel and wicked."

Yet through all her passionate denials, through all her bitter anger,
there ran a shudder of deadly fear--a doubt that chilled her with the
coldness of death--a voice that would be heard, crying out that here was
no wrong, no falsehood, but the bare, unvarnished truth. She cast it
from her--she trampled it under foot; and the girl kneeling at her feet
suffered as much as she did herself while she watched that struggle.

"You say that he would have murdered you--that he held a pistol to your
forehead, and made you take that oath--he, Aubrey Langton, did that?"

"He did!" said Pauline. "Would to Heaven I had told you before."

"Would to Heaven you had!" she cried. "It is too late now. I love him--I
love him, and I cannot lose him. You might have saved me from this, and
you would not. Oh, cruel and false!"

"Dearest Lady Darrell," said the girl, "I would wash out my fault with
my heart's blood if I could. There is no humiliation that I would not
undergo, no pain that I would not suffer, to save you."

"You might have saved me. I had a doubt, and