"I HAVE HAD MY REVENGE!"
It was a warm, beautiful morning, with a dull haze lying over the fair
summer earth; and Pauline Darrell, finding even the large, airy rooms
too warm, went out to seek her favorite shade--the shelter of the great
cedar tree. As she sat with her book in her hand--of which she never
turned a page--Miss Hastings watched her, wondering at the dark shadow
that had fallen over her beauty, wondering at the concentration of
thought in her face, wondering whether this shadow of disappointment
would darken all her life or if it would pass away, wondering if the
vengeance to which she had vowed herself was planned yet; and to them,
so silent and absorbed, came the pretty, bright vision of Lady Darrell,
wearing a white morning dress with blue ribbons in her golden hair. The
brightness and freshness of the morning seemed to linger on her fair
face, as she drew near them with a smile on her lips, and a look of
half-proud shyness in her eyes.
"I am glad you are both here," she said; "I have something to tell you."
The blush and the smile deepened. "Perhaps you can guess what it is.
Miss Hastings, you are smiling--Pauline, you do not look at me. Captain
Langton has asked me to be his wife, and I have consented."
Then she paused. Miss Hastings congratulated her, and wished her much
happiness. Pauline started at first, clasping her hands while her face
grew white, and then she recovered herself and kept perfect silence.
"Pauline," said Lady Darrell, "I am very happy; do not shadow my
happiness. Will you not wish me joy?"
"I cannot," replied the girl, in a trembling voice; "you will have no
joy."
Then, seeing Lady Darrell's wondering face, she seemed to recover
herself more completely.
"I will wish you," she said, bitterly, "as much happiness as you
deserve."
"That would be but little," returned Lady Darrell, with a faint laugh;
"I do not hold myself a particularly deserving person."
Then Miss Hastings, thinking they might come to a better understanding
alone, went away, leaving them together.
Lady Darrell went up to the girl. She laid her hands on her arm
appealingly, and raised her face with a pleading expression.
"Pauline," she said, her lips trembling with emotion, "after all, I was
your uncle's wife; for his sake you might show me a little kindness.
Marriage is a tie for life, not a bond for one day. Oh, Pauline,
Pauline, if there is any reason why I should not marry Aubrey Langton,
tell it--for Heaven's sake, tell it! Your manner is always so strange
to him; if you know anything against him, tell me now before it is too
late--tell me!"
There fell over them a profound silence, broken only by the sweet,
cheery music of a bird singing in the cedar tree, and the faint sighing
of the wind among the leaves.
"Tell me, for Heaven's sake!" repeated Lady Darrell, her grasp
tightening on Pauline's arm.
"I have nothing to tell," was the curt reply. "Pray do not hold my arm
so tightly, Lady Darrell; I have nothing to tell."
"Do not deceive me--there must be some reason for your strange manner.
Tell it to me now, before it is too late."
There was almost an agony of pleading in her face and voice, but Pauline
turned resolutely away, leaving her beneath the cedar alone.
"I must be mistaken," Lady Darrell thought. "What can she know of him? I
must be wrong to doubt him; surely if I doubt him I shall doubt Heaven
itself. It is her manner--her awkward manner--nothing more."
And she tried her best to dismiss all thoughts of Pauline from her mind,
and give herself to her newly-found happiness.
"Pauline," said Miss Hastings, sorrowfully, when she rejoined the girl,
"I cannot understand you."
"I do not quite understand myself," returned Miss Darrell. "I did not
think I had any weakness or pity in my heart, but I find it is there."
"You frighten me," said Miss Hastings. "What makes you so strange? O,
Pauline, throw it off, this black shadow that envelopes you, and forget
this idea of vengeance which has so completely changed you!"
She looked up with a smile--a hard, bitter smile.
"I shall have had my revenge," she said, gloomily, "when she has married
him."
Nor could any entreaties, any prayers of the kind-hearted woman move her
to say more.
Whether the mysterious and uncertain aspect of things preyed upon Miss
Hastings' mind, whether she grieved over her pupil and allowed that
grief to disturb her, was never revealed, but in the month of August she
became seriously ill--not ill enough to be obliged to keep her room, but
her health and her strength failed her, and day by day she became weaker
and less able to make any exertion.
Lady Darrell sent for Doctor Helmstone, and he advised Miss Hastings to
go to the sea-side at once, and to remain there during the autumn. At
her earnest request Pauline consented to accompany her.
"The change will do you good as well as myself," said the anxious lady;
and Miss Darrell saw that she was thinking how much better it would be
that she should leave Darrell Court.
"I will go," she said. "I know what you are thinking of. My vengeance is
nearly accomplished. There is no reason now why I should remain here."
After many consultations it was agreed that they should go to the pretty
little watering-place called Omberleigh. Many things recommended it; the
coast was sheltered, the scenery beautiful, the little town itself very
quiet, the visitors were few and of the higher class. It was not
possible to find a prettier spot than Omberleigh.
Lady Darrell was generosity itself! In her quiet, amiable way she liked
Miss Hastings as well as she was capable of liking any one. She insisted
upon making all kinds of arrangements for the governess--she was to have
every comfort, every luxury.
"And you must do nothing," she said, in her most caressing manner, "but
try to get well. I shall expect to see you looking quite young and
blooming when you return."
Lady Darrell had already written to Omberleigh, and, through an agent
there, had secured beautiful apartments. When Miss Hastings half
remonstrated with her, she laughed.
"I have nothing to do," she said, "but make every one happy; and it is
my duty to find you always a comfortable home."
Lady Darrell looked, as she was in those days, a most happy woman. She
seemed to have grown younger and fairer. The height of her ambition, the
height of her happiness, was reached at last. She was rich in the
world's goods, and it was in her power to make the man she loved rich
and powerful too. She was, for the first time in her life, pleasing her
own heart; and happiness made her more tender, more amiable, more
considerate and thoughtful for others.
Lady Hampton mourned over the great mistake her niece was making. She
had whispered in confidence to all her dear friends that Elinor was
really going to throw herself away on the captain after all. It was
such a pity, she said, when Lord Aynsley was so deeply in love with her.
"But then," she concluded, with a sigh, "it is a matter in which I
cannot interfere."
Yet, looking at Lady Darrell's bright, happy face, she could not quite
regret the captain's existence.
"You will not be lonely, Lady Darrell," said Miss Hastings, the evening
before her journey.
She never forgot the light that spread over the fair young face--the
intense happiness that shone in the blue eyes.
"No," she returned, with a sigh of unutterable content, "I shall never
be lonely again. I have thoughts and memories that keep my heart
warm--all loneliness or sorrow is over for me."
On the morrow Miss Darrell and the governess were to go to Omberleigh,
but the same night Lady Darrell went to Pauline's room.
"I hope you will excuse me," she said, when the girl looked up in
haughty surprise. "I want to say a few words to you before you go."
The cool, formal terms on which they lived were set aside, and for the
first time Lady Darrell visited Pauline in her room.
"I want to ask you one great favor," continued Lady Darrell. "Will you
promise me that Miss Hastings shall not want for anything? She is far
from strong."
"I shall consider Miss Hastings my own especial charge," said Pauline.
"But you must allow me to help you. I have a very great affection for
her, and desire nothing better than to prove it by kind actions."
"Miss Hastings would be very grateful to you if she knew it," said
Pauline.
"But I do not want her to be grateful. I do not want her to know
anything about it. With all her gentleness, Miss Hastings has an
independence quite her own--an independence that I respect greatly; but
it is quite possible, you know, Pauline, to manage an invalid--to
provide good wine and little delicacies."
"I will do all that myself," observed the young girl.
Lady Darrell went nearer to her.
"Pauline," she said, gently, "you have always repelled every effort of
mine; you would not be friends with me. But now, dear--now that I am so
much happier, that I have no cloud in my sky save the shadow of your
averted face--be a little kinder to me. Say that you forgive me, if I
have wronged you."
"You have wronged me, Lady Darrell, and you know it. For me to talk of
forgiveness is only a farce; it is too late for that. I have had my
revenge!"
Lady Darrell looked up at her with a startled face.
"What is that you say, Pauline?"
"I repeat it," said the girl, huskily--"I have had my revenge!"
"What can you mean? Nothing of moment has happened to me. You are
jesting, Pauline."
"It would be well for you if I were," said the girl; "but I tell you in
all truth I have had my revenge!"
And those words sounded in Lady Darrell's ears long after Pauline had
left Darrell Court.