CAPTAIN LANGTON.
June, with its roses and lilies, passed on, the laburnums had all
fallen, the lilies had vanished, and still the state of affairs at
Darrell Court remained doubtful. Pauline, in many of those respects in
which her uncle would fain have seen her changed, remained
unaltered--indeed it was not easy to unlearn the teachings of a
life-time.
Miss Hastings, more patient and hopeful than Sir Oswald, persevered,
with infinite tact and discretion. But there were certain peculiarities
of which Pauline could not be broken. One was a habit of calling
everything by its right name. She had no notion of using any of those
polite little fictions society delights in; no matter how harsh, how
ugly the word, she did not hesitate to use it. Another peculiarity was
that of telling the blunt, plain, abrupt truth, no matter what the cost,
no matter who was pained. She tore aside the flimsy vail of society with
zest; she spared no one in her almost ruthless denunciations. Her
intense scorn for all kinds of polite fiction was somewhat annoying.
"You need not say that I am engaged, James," she said, one day, when a
lady called whom she disliked. "I am not engaged, but I do not care to
see Mrs. Camden."
Even that bland functionary looked annoyed. Miss Hastings tried to make
some compromise.
"You cannot send such a message as that, Miss Darrell. Pray listen to
reason."
"Sir Oswald and yourself agreed that she was----"
"Never mind that," hastily interrupted Miss Hastings. "You must not hurt
any one's feelings by such a blunt message as that; it is neither polite
nor well-bred."
"I shall never cultivate either politeness or good breeding at the
expense of truth; therefore you had better send the message yourself,
Miss Hastings."
"I will do so," said the governess, quietly. "I will manage it in such a
way as to show Mrs. Camden that she is not expected to call again, yet
so as not to humiliate her before the servants; but, remember, not at
any sacrifice of truth."
Such contests were of daily, almost hourly, occurrence. Whether the
result would be such a degree of training as to fit the young lady for
taking the position she wished to occupy, remained doubtful.
"This is really very satisfactory," said Sir Oswald, abruptly, one
morning, as he entered the library, where Miss Hastings awaited him.
"But," he continued, "before I explain myself, let me ask you how are
you getting on--what progress are you making with your tiresome pupil?"
The gentle heart of the governess was grieved to think that she could
not give a more satisfactory reply. Little real progress had been made
in study; less in manner.
"There is a mass of splendid material, Sir Oswald," she said; "but the
difficulty lies in putting it into shape."
"I am afraid," he observed, "people will make remarks; and I have heard
more than one doubt expressed as to what kind of hands Darrell Court is
likely to fall into should I make Pauline my heiress. You see she is
capable of almost anything. She would turn the place into an asylum; she
would transform it into a college for philosophers, a home for needy
artists--in fact, anything that might occur to her--without the least
hesitation."
Miss Hastings could not deny it. They were not speaking of a manageable
nineteenth century young lady, but of one to whom no ordinary rules
applied, whom no customary measures fitted.
"I have a letter here," continued Sir Oswald, "from Captain Aubrey
Langton, the son of one of my oldest and dearest friends. He proposes to
pay me a visit, and--pray, Miss Hastings, pardon me for suggesting such
a thing, but I should be so glad if he would fall in love with Pauline.
I have an idea that love might educate and develop her more quickly than
anything else."
Miss Hastings had already thought the same thing; but she knew whoever
won the love of such a girl as Pauline Darrell would be one of the
cleverest of men.
"I am writing to him to tell him that I hope he will remain with us for
a month; and during that time I hope, I fervently hope, he may fall in
love with my niece. She is beautiful enough. Pardon me again, Miss
Hastings, but has she ever spoken to you of love or lovers?"
"No. She is in that respect, as in many others, quite unlike the
generality of girls. I have never heard an allusion to such matters from
her lips--never once."
This fact seemed to Sir Oswald stranger than any other; he had an idea
that girls devoted the greater part of their thoughts to such subjects.
"Do you think," he inquired, "that she cared for any one in Paris--any
of those men, for instance, whom she used to meet at her father's?"
"No," replied Miss Hastings; "I do not think so. She is strangely
backward in all such respects, although she was brought up entirely
among gentlemen."
"Among--pardon me, my dear madame, not gentlemen--members, we will say,
of a gentlemanly profession."
Sir Oswald took from his gold snuff-box a pinch of most
delicately-flavored snuff, and looked as though he thought the very
existence of such people a mistake.
"Any little influence that you may possess over my niece, Miss Hastings,
will you kindly use in Captain Langton's favor? Of course, if anything
should come of my plan--as I fervently hope there may--I shall stipulate
that the engagement lasts two years. During that time I shall trust to
the influence of love to change my niece's character."
It was only a fresh complication--one from which Miss Hastings did not
expect much.
That same day, during dinner, Sir Oswald told his niece of the expected
arrival of Captain Langton.
"I have seen so few English gentlemen," she remarked, "that he will be a
subject of some curiosity to me."
"You will find him--that is, if he resembles his father--a high-bred,
noble gentleman," said Sir Oswald, complacently.
"Is he clever?" she asked. "What does he do?"
"Do!" repeated Sir Oswald. "I do not understand you."
"Does he paint pictures or write books?"
"Heaven forbid!" cried Sir Oswald, proudly. "He is a gentleman."
Her face flushed hotly for some minutes, and then the flush died away,
leaving her paler than ever.
"I consider artists and writers gentlemen," she retorted--"gentlemen of
a far higher stamp than those to whom fortune has given money and nature
has denied brains."
Another time a sharp argument would have resulted from the throwing down
of such a gantlet. Sir Oswald had something else in view, so he allowed
the speech to pass.
"It will be a great pleasure for me to see my old friend's son again,"
he said. "I hope, Pauline, you will help me to make his visit a pleasant
one."
"What can I do?" she asked, brusquely.
"What a question!" laughed Sir Oswald. "Say, rather, what can you not
do? Talk to him, sing to him. Your voice is magnificent, and would give
any one the greatest pleasure. You can ride out with him."
"If he is a clever, sensible man, I can do all that you mention; if not,
I shall not trouble myself about him. I never could endure either
tiresome or stupid people."
"My young friend is not likely to prove either," said Sir Oswald,
angrily; and Miss Hastings wondered in her heart what the result of it
all would be.
That same evening Miss Darrell talked of Captain Langton, weaving many
bright fancies concerning him.
"I suppose," she said, "that it is not always the most favorable
specimens of the English who visit Paris. We used to see such droll
caricatures. I like a good caricature above all things--do you, Miss
Hastings?"
"When it is good, and pains no one," was the sensible reply.
The girl turned away with a little impatient sigh.
"Your ideas are all colorless," she said, sharply. "In England it seems
to me that everybody is alike. You have no individuality, no character."
"If character means, in your sense of the word, ill-nature, so much the
better," rejoined Miss Hastings. "All good-hearted people strive to save
each other from pain."
"I wonder," said Pauline, thoughtfully, "if I shall like Captain
Langton! We have been living here quietly enough; but I feel as though
some great change were coming. You have no doubt experienced that
peculiar sensation which comes over one just before a heavy
thunder-storm? I have that strange, half-nervous, half-restless
sensation now."
"You will try to be amiable, Pauline," put in the governess, quietly.
"You see that Sir Oswald evidently thinks a great deal of this young
friend of his. You will try not to shock your uncle in any way--not to
violate those little conventionalities that he respects so much."
"I will do my best; but I must be myself--always myself. I cannot assume
a false character."
"Then let it be your better self," said the governess, gently; and for
one minute Pauline Darrell was touched.
"That sweet creature, Lady Hampton's niece, will be here next week," she
remarked, after a short pause. "What changes will be brought into our
lives, I wonder?"
Of all the changes possible, least of all she expected the tragedy that
afterward happened.