ELINOR ROCHEFORD.
It was a morning in August, when a gray mist hung over the earth, a mist
that resulted from the intense heat, and through which trees, flowers,
and fountains loomed faintly like shadows. The sun showed his bright
face at intervals, but, though he withheld his gracious presence, the
heat and warmth were great; the air was laden with perfume, and the
birds were all singing as though they knew that the sun would soon
reappear.
One glance at her pupil's face showed Miss Hastings there was not much
to be done in the way of study. Pauline wanted to watch the mist rise
from the hills and trees. She wanted to see the sunbeams grow bright and
golden.
"Let us read under the lime trees, Miss Hastings," she said, and Captain
Langton smiled approval. For the time was come when he followed her like
her shadow; when he could not exist out of her presence; when his
passionate love mastered him, and brought him, a very slave, to her
feet; when the hope of winning her was dearer to him than life itself;
when he would have sacrificed even Darrell Court for the hope of
calling her his wife.
If she knew of his passion, she made no sign; she never relaxed from her
haughty, careless indifference; she never tried in the least to make
herself agreeable to him.
Sir Oswald watched her with keen eyes, and Miss Hastings trembled lest
misfortune should come upon the girl she was learning to love so dearly.
She saw and understood that the baronet was slowly but surely making up
his mind; if Pauline married the captain, he would make her his heiress;
if not, she would never inherit Darrell Court.
On this August morning they formed a pretty group under the shadowy,
graceful limes. Miss Hastings held in her hands some of the fine fancy
work which delights ladies; the captain reclined on a tiger-skin rug on
the grass, looking very handsome, for, whatever might be his faults of
mind, he was one of the handsomest men in England. Pauline, as usual,
was beautiful, graceful, and piquant, wearing a plain morning dress of
some gray material--a dress which on any one else would have looked
plain, but which she had made picturesque and artistic by a dash of
scarlet--and a pomegranate blossom in her hair. Her lovely face looked
more than usually noble under the influence of the words she was
reading.
"Tennyson again!" said the captain, as she opened the book. "It is to be
regretted that the poet cannot see you, Miss Darrell, and know how
highly you appreciate his works."
She never smiled nor blushed at his compliments, as she had seen other
girls do. She had a fashion of fixing her bright eyes on him, and after
one glance he generally was overcome with confusion before his
compliment was ended. .
"I should not imagine that anything I could say would flatter a poet,"
she replied, thoughtfully. "Indeed he is, I should say, as far above
blame as praise."
Then, without noticing him further, she went on reading. Captain
Langton's eyes never left her face; its pale, grand beauty glowed and
changed, the dark eyes grew radiant, the beautiful lips quivered with
emotion. He thought to himself that a man might lay down his life and
every hope in it to win such love as hers.
Suddenly she heard the sound of voices, and looking up saw Sir Oswald
escorting two ladies.
"What a tiresome thing!" grumbled the captain. "We can never be alone a
single hour."
"I thought you enjoyed society so much!" she said.
"I am beginning to care for no society on earth but yours," he
whispered, his face flushing, while she turned haughtily away.
"You are proud," murmured the captain to himself--"you are as haughty as
you are beautiful; but I will win you yet."
Then Sir Oswald, with his visitors, advanced. It was Pauline's aversion,
Lady Hampton, with her niece, Miss Rocheford.
Lady Hampton advanced in her usual grave, artificial manner.
"Sir Oswald wanted to send for you, but I said 'no.' What can be more
charming than such a group under the trees? I am so anxious to
introduce my niece to you, Miss Darrell--she arrived only yesterday.
Elinor, let me introduce you to Miss Darrell, Miss Hastings, and Captain
Langton."
Pauline's dark eyes glanced at the blushing, sweet face, and the
shrinking graceful figure. Miss Hastings made her welcome; and the
captain, stroking his mustache, thought himself in luck for knowing two
such pretty girls.
There could not have been a greater contrast than Pauline Darrell and
Elinor Rocheford. Pauline was dark, proud, beautiful, passionate,
haughty, and willful, yet with a poet's soul and a grand mind above all
worldliness, all meanness, all artifice. Elinor was timid, shrinking,
graceful, lovely, with a delicate, fairy-like beauty, yet withal keenly
alive to the main chance, and never forgetting her aunt's great
maxim--to make the best of everything for herself.
On this warm August morning Miss Rocheford wore a charming gossamer
costume of lilac and white, with the daintiest of Parisian hats on her
golden head. Her gloves, shoes, laces, parasol, were perfection--not a
fold was out of place, not a ribbon awry--contrasting most forcibly with
the grand, picturesque girl near her.
Lady Hampton seated herself, and Miss Rocheford did the same. Sir Oswald
suggesting how very refreshing grapes and peaches would be on so warm a
morning, Captain Langton volunteered to go and order some. Lady Hampton
watched him as he walked away.
"What a magnificent man, Sir Oswald! What a fine clever face! It is
easy to see that he is a military man--he is so upright, so easy; there
is nothing like a military training for giving a man an easy, dignified
carriage. I think I understood that he was the son of a very old friend
of yours?"
"The son of the dearest friend I ever had in the world," was the reply;
"and I love him as though he were my own--indeed I wish he were."
Lady Hampton sighed and looked sympathetic.
"Langton," she continued, in a musing tone--"is he one of the Langtons
of Orde?"
"No," replied Sir Oswald; "my dear old friend was of a good family, but
not greatly blessed by fortune."
It was wonderful to see how Lady Hampton's interest in the captain at
once died out; there was no more praise, no more admiration for him. If
she had discovered that he was heir to an earldom, how different it
would have been! Before long the captain returned, and then a rustic
table was spread under the lime trees, with purple grapes, peaches,
crimson and gold apricots, and ruby plums.
"It's quite picturesque," Lady Hampton declared, with a smile; "and
Elinor, dear child, enjoys fruit so much."
In spite of Lady Hampton's wish, there did not appear to be much
cordiality between the two girls. Occasionally Elinor would look at the
captain, who was not slow to return her glances with interest. His eyes
said plainly that he thought her very lovely.
Miss Rocheford was in every respect the model of a well brought up
young lady. She knew that the grand end and aim of her existence was to
marry well--she never forgot that. She was well-born, well-bred,
beautiful, accomplished, but without fortune. From her earliest girlhood
Lady Hampton had impressed upon her the duty of marrying money.
"You have everything else, Elinor," she was accustomed to say. "You must
marry for title and money."
Miss Rocheford knew it. She had no objection to her fate--she was quite
passive over it--but she did hope at times that the man who had the
title and money would be young, handsome, and agreeable. If he were not,
she could not help it, but she hoped he would be.
Lady Hampton had recently become a widow. In her youth she had felt some
little hope of being mistress of Darrell Court; but that hope had soon
died. Now, however, that a niece was thrown upon her hands, she took
heart of grace in another respect; for Sir Oswald was not an old man. It
was true his hair was white, but he was erect, dignified, and, in Lady
Hampton's opinion, more interesting than a handsome young man, who would
think of nothing but himself. If he would be but sensible, and, instead
of adopting that proud, unformed girl, marry, how much better it would
be!
She knew that her niece was precisely the style that he
admired--elegant, delicate, utterly incapable of any originality, ready
at any moment to yield her opinions and ideas, ready to do implicitly as
she was told, to believe in the superiority of her husband--a model
woman, in short, after Sir Oswald's own heart. She saw that the baronet
was much struck with Elinor; she knew that in his own mind he was
contrasting the two girls--the graceful timidity of the one, her perfect
polish of manner, with the brusque independence and terribly
plain-spoken fashion of the other.
"It would be ten thousand pities," said Lady Hampton to herself, "to see
that girl mistress of Darrell Court. She would make a good queen for the
Sandwich Islands. Before I go, I must open Sir Oswald's eyes, and give
him a few useful hints."