A TRUE DARRELL.
The way in which the girl supported her disappointment was lofty in the
extreme. She bore her defeat as proudly as some would have borne a
victory. No one could have told from her face or her manner that she had
suffered a grievous defeat. When she alluded to the change in her
position, it was with a certain proud humility that had in it nothing
approaching meanness or envy.
It did not seem that she felt the money-loss; it was not the
disappointment about mere wealth and luxury. It was rather an unbounded
distress that she had been set aside as unworthy to represent the race
of the Darrells--that she, a "real" Darrell, had been forced to make way
for what, in her own mind, she called a "baby-faced stranger"--that her
training and education, on which her dear father had prided himself,
should be cast in her face as unworthy and deserving of reproach. He and
his artist-friends had thought her perfection; that very "perfection" on
which they had prided themselves, and for which they had so praised and
flattered her, was the barrier that had stood between her and her
inheritance.
It was a painful position, but her manner of bearing it was exalted. She
had not been a favorite--the pride, the truth, the independence of her
nature had forbidden that. She had not sought the liking of strangers,
nor courted their esteem; she had not been sweet and womanly, weeping
with those who wept, and rejoicing with those who rejoiced; she had
looked around her with a scorn for conventionalities that had not sat
well upon one so young--and now she was to pay the penalties for all
this. She knew that people talked about her--that they said she was
rightly punished, justly treated--that it was a blessing for the whole
county to have a proper Lady Darrell at Darrell Court She knew that
among all the crowds who came to the Court there was not one who
sympathized with her, or who cared in the least for her disappointment.
No Darrell ever showed greater bravery than she did in her manner of
bearing up under disappointment. Whatever she felt or thought was most
adroitly concealed. The Spartan boy was not braver; she gave no sign. No
humiliation seemed to touch her, she carried herself loftily; nor could
any one humiliate her when she did not humiliate herself. Even Sir
Oswald admired her.
"She is a true Darrell," he said to Miss Hastings; "what a grand spirit
the girl has, to be sure!"
The Court was soon one scene of gayety. Lady Darrell seemed determined
to enjoy her position. There were garden-parties at which she appeared
radiant in the most charming costumes, balls where her elegance and
delicate beauty, her thoroughbred grace, made her the queen; and of all
this gayety she took the lead. Sir Oswald lavished every luxury upon
her--her wishes were gratified almost before they were expressed.
Lady Hampton, calling rather earlier than usual one day, found her in
her luxurious dressing-room, surrounded by such treasures of silk,
velvet, lace, jewels, ornaments of every description of the most costly
and valuable kind, that her ladyship looked round in astonishment.
"My dearest Elinor," she said, "what are you doing? What beautiful
confusion!"
Lady Darrell raised her fair face, with a delicate flush and a half-shy
glance.
"Look, aunt," she said, "I am really overwhelmed."
"What does it mean?" asked Lady Hampton.
"It means that Sir Oswald is too generous. These large boxes have just
arrived from Paris; he told me they were a surprise for me--a present
from him. Look at the contents--dresses of all kinds, lace, ornaments,
fans, slippers, gloves, and such _articles of luxury_ as can be bought
only in Paris. I am really ashamed."
"Sir Oswald is indeed generous," said Lady Hampton; then she looked
round the room to see if they were quite alone.
The maid had disappeared.
"Ah, Elinor," remarked Lady Hampton, "you are indeed a fortunate woman;
your lines have fallen in pleasant places. You might have looked all
England over and not have found such a husband. I am quite sure of one
thing--you have everything a woman's heart can desire."
"I make no complaint," said Lady Darrell.
"My dear child, I should imagine not; there are few women in England
whose position equals yours."
"I know it," was the calm reply.
"And you may really thank me for it; I certainly worked hard for you,
Elinor. I believe that if I had not interfered you would have thrown
yourself away on that Captain Langton."
"Captain Langton never gave me the chance, aunt; so we will not discuss
the question."
"It was a very good thing for you that he never did," remarked her
ladyship. "Mrs. Bretherton was saying to me the other day what a very
fortunate girl you were--how few of us have our heart's desire."
"You forget one thing, aunt. Even if I have everything I want, still my
heart is empty," said the girl, wearily.
Lady Hampton smiled.
"You must have your little bit of sentiment, Elinor, but you are too
sensible to let it interfere with your happiness. How are you getting on
with that terrible Pauline? I do dislike that girl from the very depths
of my heart."
Lady Darrell shrugged her delicate shoulders.
"There is a kind of armed neutrality between us at present," she said.
"Of course, I have nothing to fear from her, but I cannot help feeling a
little in dread of her, aunt."
"How is that?" asked Lady Hampton, contemptuously. "She is a girl I
should really delight to thwart and contradict; but, as for being afraid
of her, I consider Frampton, the butler, a far more formidable person.
Why do you say that, Elinor?"
"She has a way with her--I cannot describe it--of making every one else
feel small. I cannot tell how she does it, but she makes me very
uncomfortable."
"You have more influence over Sir Oswald than any one else in the world;
if she troubles you, why not persuade him to send her away?"
"I dare not," said Lady Darrell; "besides, I do not think he would ever
care to do that."
"Then you should be mistress of her, Elinor--keep her in her place."
Lady Darrell laughed aloud.
"I do not think even your skill could avail here, aunt. She is not one
of those girls you can extinguish with a frown."
"How does she treat you, Elinor? Tell me honestly," said Lady Hampton.
"I can hardly describe it. She is never rude or insolent; if she were,
appeal to Sir Oswald would be very easy. She has a grand, lofty way with
her--an imperious carriage and bearing that I really think he admires.
She ignores me, overlooks me, and there is a scornful gleam in her eyes
at times, when she does look at me, which says more plainly than words,
'You married for money.'"
"And you did a very sensible thing, too, my dear. I wish, I only wish I
had the management of Miss Darrell; I would break her spirit, if it is
to be broken."
"I do not think it is," said Lady Darrell, rising as though she were
weary of the discussion. "There is nothing in her conduct that any one
could find fault with, yet I feel she is my enemy."
"Wait a while," returned Lady Hampton; "her turn will come."
And from that day the worthy lady tried her best to prejudice Sir Oswald
against his proud, beautiful, wayward niece.