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CHAPTER XXIX.
WAITING FOR REVENGE
There was a slight, only a very slight difference of opinion between Lady Darrell and her aunt after the reading of the will. Lady Hampton would fain have given up the Elms, and have gone to live at Darrell Court.
"Sir Oswald's will is a very just one," she said, "admirable in every respect; but I should never dream, were I in your place, Elinor, of keeping that proud girl here. Let her go. I will come and live with you. I shall make a better chaperon than that poor, faded Miss Hastings."
But Lady Darrell was eager to taste the sweets of power, and she knew how completely her aunt would take every vestige of it from her.
She declared her intention to adhere most strictly to the terms of the will.
"And, aunt," she continued, with firmness quite new to her, "it would be so much better, I think, for you to keep at the Elms. People might make strange remarks if you came here to live with me."
Lady Hampton was shrewd enough to see that she must abide by her niece's decision.
The captain was to remain only two days at Darrell Court, and Lady Darrell was anxious to spend some little time with him.
"I like the captain, aunt," she said; "he amuses me."
Lady Hampton remembered how she had spoken of him before, and it was not her intention that her beautiful niece should fling away herself and her magnificent fortune on Aubrey Langton.
"She is sure to marry again," thought the lady; "and, dowered as she is, she ought to marry a duke, at least."
She represented to her that it was hardly etiquette for her, a widow so young, and her loss being so recent, to entertain a handsome young officer.
"I do not see that the fact of his being handsome makes any difference, aunt," said Lady Darrell; "still, if you think I must remain shut up in my room while the captain is here, of course, I will remain so, though it seems very hard."
"Appearances are everything," observed Lady Hampton, sagely; "and you cannot be too careful at first."
"Does he seem to pay Pauline any attention?" asked the young widow, eagerly.
"I have never heard them exchange more than a few words – indeed the circumstance has puzzled me, Elinor. I have seen him look at her as though he worshiped her and as though he hated her. As for Miss Darrell, she seems to treat him with contemptuous indifference."
"I used to think he liked her," said Lady Darrell, musingly.
"He liked the future heiress of Darrell Court," rejoined Lady Hampton. "All his love has gone with her prospects, you may rely upon it."
Lady Darrell, brought up in a school that would sacrifice even life itself for the sake of appearances, knew there was no help for her enforced retirement. She remained in her rooms until the young officer had left the Court.
Lady Hampton was not the only one who felt puzzled at Pauline's behavior to the captain. Miss Hastings, who understood her pupil perhaps better than any one, was puzzled. There was somewhat of a calm, unutterable contempt in her manner of treating him. He could not provoke her; no matter what he said, she would not be provoked into retort. She never appeared to remember his existence; no one could have been more completely ignored; and Captain Langton himself was but too cognizant of the fact. If he could have but piqued or aroused her, have stung her into some exhibition of feeling, he would have been content; but no statue could have been colder, no queen prouder. If any little attention was required at her hands she paid it, but there was no denying the fact that it was rendered in such a manner that the omission would have been preferable.
On the evening of his departure Lady Hampton went down to wish him farewell; she conveyed to him Lady Darrell's regret at not being able to do the same.
"I am very sorry," said the captain; "though, of course, under the circumstances, I could hardly hope for the pleasure of seeing Lady Darrell. Perhaps you will tell her that in the autumn, with her permission, I shall hope to revisit the Court."
Lady Hampton said to herself that she should take no such message. The dearest wish of her heart was that the gallant captain should never be seen there again. But she made some gracious reply, and then asked, suddenly:
"Have you seen Miss Darrell? Have you said good-by to her?"
Aubrey Langton looked slightly confused.
"I have not seen her to-day," he replied.
Lady Hampton smiled very graciously.
"I will send for her," she said; and when, in answer to her summons, a servant entered, she asked that Miss Darrell might be requested to favor her with her presence in the library. It did not escape her keen observation that Captain Langton would rather have avoided the interview.
Pauline entered with the haughty grace so natural to her; her proud eyes never once glanced at the captain; he was no more to her than the very furniture in the room.
"You wished to see me, Lady Hampton," she said, curtly.
"Yes – that is, Captain Langton wishes to say good-by to you; he is leaving Darrell Court this morning."
There was the least possible curl of the short upper lip. Lady Hampton happened to catch the glance bestowed upon Pauline by their visitor. For a moment it startled her – it revealed at once such hopeless passionate love and such strong passionate hate. Pauline made no reply; the queenly young figure was drawn up to its full height, the thoughtful face was full of scorn. The captain concealed his embarrassment as he best could, and went up to her with outstretched hands.
"Good-by, Miss Darrell," he said; "this has been a very sad time for you, and I deeply sympathize with you. I hope to see you again in the autumn, looking better – more like yourself."
Lady Hampton was wont to declare that the scene was one of the finest she had ever witnessed. Pauline looked at him with that straight, clear, calm gaze of hers, so terribly searching and direct.
"Good-by," she said, gravely, and then, utterly ignoring the outstretched hands, she swept haughtily from the room.
Lady Hampton did not attempt to conceal her delight at the captain's discomfiture.
"Miss Darrell is very proud," he said, laughing to hide his confusion. "I must have been unfortunate enough to displease her."
But Lady Hampton saw his confusion, and in her own mind she wondered what there was between these two – why he should appear at the same time to love and to hate her – above all, why she should treat him with such sovereign indifference and contempt.
"It is not natural," she argued to herself; "young girls, as a rule, admire – nay, take an uncommon interest in soldiers. What reason can she have for such contemptuous indifference?"
How little she dreamed of the storm of rage – of passion – of anger – of love – of fury, that warred in the captain's soul!
He was ten thousand pounds richer, but it was as a drop in the ocean to him. If it had been ten thousand per annum he might have been grateful. Ten thousand pounds would discharge every debt he had in the world, and set him straight once more; he might even lead the life he had always meant to lead for two or three years, but then the money would be gone. On the other hand, if that girl – that proud, willful, defiant girl – would but have married him, Darrell Court, with all its rich dependencies, would have been his. The thought almost maddened him.
How he loathed her as he rode away! But for her, all this grand inheritance would have been his. Instead of riding away, he would now be taking possession and be lord and master of all. These stables with the splendid stud of horses would be his – his the magnificent grounds and gardens – the thousand luxuries that made Darrell Court an earthly paradise. All these would have been his but for the obstinacy of one girl. Curses deep and burning rose to his lips; yet, for his punishment, he loved her with a love that mastered him in spite of his hate – that made him long to throw himself at her feet, while he could have slain her for the wrong he considered that she had done him.
Lady Hampton could not refrain from a few remarks on what she had witnessed.
"Has Captain Langton been so unfortunate as to offend you, Miss Darrell?" she asked of Pauline. "I thought your adieus were of the coldest."
"Did you? I never could see the use of expressing regret that is not really felt."
"Perhaps not; but it is strange that you should not feel some little regret at losing such a visitor."
To this remark Pauline deigned nothing save an extra look of weariness, which was not lost upon Lady Hampton.
"Pauline," said Miss Hastings, one morning, "I do not think you are compelled by the terms of Sir Oswald's will to reside at Darrell Court whether you like it or not. There could be no possible objection to your going away for a change."
The beautiful, restless face was turned to her.
"I could not leave Darrell Court even if I would," she returned.
"Why not? There is really nothing to detain you here."
"I am waiting," said the girl, her dark eyes lit by a fire that was not pleasant to see – "I am waiting here for my revenge."
"Oh, Pauline!" cried Miss Hastings, in real distress. "My dear child, you must forget such things. I do not like to hear such a word from your lips."
Pauline smiled as she looked at her governess, but there was something almost terrible in the calm smile.
"What do you think I am living here for – waiting here in patience for? I tell you, nothing but the vengeance I have promised myself – and it shall be mine!"
CHAPTER XXX.
WILL FATE AID PAULINE?
Six months had passed since Sir Oswald's death, and his widow had already put away her cap and heavy weeds. Six months of retirement, she considered, were a very handsome acknowledgment of all her husband's love and kindness. She was in a state of serene and perfect self-content – everything had gone well with her. People had expressed their admiration of her devotion to his memory. She knew that in the eyes of the world she was esteemed faultless. And now it seemed to Lady Darrell that the time was come in which she might really enjoy herself, and reap the reward of her sacrifice.
The "armed neutrality" between Pauline and herself still continued. Each went her own way – their interests never clashed. Lady Darrell rather preferred that Pauline should remain at the Court. She had a vague kind of fear of her, a vague dread that made her feel safer where Pauline was, and where she could know something of her. Whole days would pass without their meeting; but, now that there was to be a little more gayety at Darrell Court, the two must expect to be brought into daily communication.
Lady Darrell was an amiable woman. It was true she had a small soul, capable of maintaining small ideas only. She would have liked to be what she called "comfortable" with Pauline – to live on sisterly terms with her – to spend long hours in discussing dress, ornaments, fashionable gossip – to feel that there was always some one at hand to listen to her and to amuse her. She, in her turn, would have been most generous. She would have made ample presents of dresses and jewels to such a friend; she would have studied her comfort and interests. But to expect or to hope for a companion of that kind in Pauline was as though some humble little wood-blossom could hope to train itself round a grand, stately, sad passion-flower.
Lady Darrell's worldly knowledge and tact were almost perfect; yet they could never reveal to her the depths of a noble nature like Pauline's. She could sooner have sounded the depths of the Atlantic than the grand deep of that young girl's heart and soul; they would always be dead letters to her – mysteries she could not solve. One morning the impulse was strong upon her to seek Pauline, to hold a friendly conversation with her as to half-mourning; but when she reached the door of the study her courage gave way, and she turned abruptly, feeling rather than knowing why the discussion of dress and mere personal appearance must prove distasteful to Miss Darrell.
Little by little Lady Darrell began to take her place in the grand world; she was too wise and wary to do it all at once. The degrees were almost imperceptible; even Lady Hampton, one of the most fastidious of critics, was obliged to own to herself that her niece's conduct was highly creditable. The gradations in Lady Darrell's spirits were as carefully regulated as the gradations of color in her dress; with deep lavender and black ribbons she was mildly sorrowful, the lighter grew the lavender the lighter grew her heart. On the first day she wore a silver gray brocade she laughed outright, and the sound of that laugh was the knell of all mourning.
Visitors began to arrive once more at Darrell Court, but Lady Darrell still exercised great restraint over herself. Her invitations were at first confined to matrons of mature age. "She did not feel equal to the society of gentlemen yet."
There was a grand chorus of admiration for the nice feeling Lady Darrell displayed. Then elderly gentlemen – husbands of the matrons – were admitted; and, after a time, "braw wooers began to appear at the hall," and then Lady Darrell's reign began in real earnest.
From these admiring matrons, enthusiastic gentlemen, ardent lovers, and flattering friends Pauline stood aloof. How she despised the whole of them was to be gathered only from her face; she never expressed it in words. She did not associate with them, and they repaid her behavior by the most hearty dislike.
It was another proof of "dear Lady Darrell's sweet temper" that she could live in peace with this haughty, abrupt, willful girl. No one guessed that the bland, amiable, suave, graceful mistress of Darrell Court stood in awe of the girl who had been disinherited to make way for her.
"Pauline," said Miss Hastings, one day, "I want you to accustom yourself to the idea of leaving Darrell Court; for I do not think there is any doubt but that sooner or later Lady Darrell will marry again."
"I expect it," she returned. "Poor Sir Oswald! His home will go to strangers, his name be extinct. How little he foresaw this when he married!"
"Let it take place when it may, the Court can be no home for you then," continued Miss Hastings.
Pauline raised her hand with a warning gesture.
"Do not say another word, Miss Hastings; I cannot listen. Just as criminals were fastened to the rack, bound to the wheel, tied to the stake, I am bound here – awaiting my revenge!"
"Oh, Pauline, if you would but forego such strange speech! This longing for vengeance is in your heart like a deadly canker in a fair flower. It will end badly."
The beautiful face with its defiant light was turned toward her.
"Do not attempt to dissuade me," she said. "Your warning is useless, and I do not like to grieve you. I acquainted Lady Darrell with my determination before she married my uncle for his money. She persisted in doing it. Let her take the consequences – bear the penalty. If she had acted a true womanly part – if she had refused him, as she ought to have done – he would have had time for reflection, he would not have disinherited me in his anger, and Darrell Court would have descended to a Darrell, as it ought to have done."
"If you could but forget the past, Pauline!"
"I cannot – it is part of my life now. I saw two lives before me once – the one made noble, grand, and gracious by this inheritance, which I should have known so well how to hold; the other darkened by disappointment and shadowed by revenge. You know how some men wait for the fair fruition of a fair hope – for the dawn of success – for the sunshine of perfect prosperity; so do I wait for my revenge. We Darrells never do things by halves; we are not even moderate. My heart, my soul, my life – which might have been, I grant, filled with high impulses – are concentrated on revenge."
Though the words she spoke were so terrible, so bitter, there was no mean, vindictive, or malign expression on that beautiful face; rather was it bright with a strange light. Mistaken though the idea might be, Pauline evidently deemed herself one chosen to administer justice.
Miss Hastings looked at her.
"But, Pauline," she said, gravely, "who made you Lady Darrell's judge?"
"Myself," she replied. "Miss Hastings, you often speak of justice; let me ask, was this matter fair? My uncle was irritated against me because I would not marry a man I detested and loathed; in his anger he formed the project of marriage to punish me. He proposed to Elinor Rocheford, and, without any love for him, she agreed to marry him. I went to her, and warned her not to come between me and my rightful inheritance. I told her that if she did I would be revenged. She laughed at my threat, married my uncle, and so disinherited me. Now, was it fair that I should have nothing, she all – that I, a Darrell, should see the home of my race go to strangers? It is not just, and I mean to take justice into my hands."
"But, Pauline," opposed Miss Hastings, "if Lady Darrell had not accepted Sir Oswald, some one else would."
"Are such women common, then?" she demanded, passionately. "I knew evil enough of your world, but I did not know this. This woman is sweet-voiced, her face is fair, her hair is golden, her hands are white and soft, her manners caressing and gentle; but you see her soul is sordid – it was not large enough to prevent her marrying an old man for his money. Something tells me that the vengeance I have promised myself is not far off."
Miss Hastings wrung her hands in silent dismay.
"Oh, for something to redeem you, Pauline – something to soften your heart, which is hardening into sin!"
"I do not know of any earthly influence that could, as you say, redeem me. I know that I am doing wrong. Do not think that I have transformed vice into virtue and have blinded myself. I know that some people can rise to a far grander height; they would, instead of seeking vengeance, pardon injuries. I cannot – I never will. There is no earthly influence that can redeem me, because there is none stronger than my own will."
The elder lady looked almost hopelessly at the younger one. How was she to cope with this strong nature – a nature that could own a fault, yet by strength of will persevere in it? She felt that she might as well try to check the angry waves of the rising tide as try to control this willful, undisciplined disposition.
How often in after years these words returned to her mind: "I know of no earthly influence stronger than my own will."
Miss Hastings sat in silence for some minutes, and then she looked at the young girl.
"What shape will your vengeance take, Pauline?" she asked, calmly.
"I do not know. Fate will shape it for me; my opportunity will come in time."
"Vengeance is a very high-sounding word," observed Miss Hastings, "but the thing itself generally assumes very prosaic forms. You would not descend to such a vulgar deed as murder, for instance; nor would you avail yourself of anything so commonplace as poison."
"No," replied Pauline, with contempt; "those are mean revenges. I will hurt her where she has hurt me – where all the love of her heart is garnered; there will I wound her as she has wounded me. Where she can feel most there I mean to strike, and strike home."
"Then you have no definite plan arranged?" questioned Miss Hastings.
"Fate will play into my hands when the time comes," replied Pauline. Nor could the governess extract aught further from her.
CHAPTER XXXI.
FATE FAVORS PAULINE
Autumn, with its golden grain, its rich fruits, and its luxuriant foliage, had come and gone; then Christmas snow lay soft and white on the ground; and still Captain Langton had not paid his promised visit to Darrell Court. He sent numerous cards, letters, books, and music, but he did not appear himself. Once more the spring flowers bloomed; Sir Oswald had been lying for twelve months in the cold, silent family vault. With the year of mourning the last of Lady Darrell's gracefully expressed sorrow vanished – the last vestige of gray and lavender, of jet beads and black trimmings, disappeared from her dresses; and then she shone forth upon the world in all the grace and delicate loveliness of her fair young beauty.
Who could number her lovers or count her admirers? Old and young, peer and commoner, there was not one who would not have given anything he had on earth to win the hand of the beautiful and wealthy young widow.
Lady Hampton favored the suit of Lord Aynsley, one of the wealthiest peers in England. He had met Lady Darrell while on a visit at the Elms, and was charmed with her. So young, fair, gifted, accomplished, so perfect a mistress of every art and grace, yet so good and amiable – Lord Aynsley thought that he had never met with so perfect a woman before.
Lady Hampton was delighted.
"I think, Elinor," she said, "that you are one of the most fortunate of women. You have a chance now of making a second and most brilliant marriage. I think you must have been born under a lucky star."
Lady Darrell laughed her soft, graceful little laugh.
"I think, auntie," she returned, "that, as I married the first time to please you, I may marry now to please myself and my own heart."
"Certainly," said her ladyship, dubiously; "but remember what I have always told you – sentiment is the ruin of everything."
And, as Lady Hampton spoke, there came before her the handsome face of Aubrey Langton. She prayed mentally that he might not appear again at Darrell Court until Lord Aynsley had proposed and had been accepted.
But Fate was not kind to her.
The next morning Lady Darrell received a letter from the captain, saying that, as the summer was drawing near, he should be very glad to pay his long-promised visit to Darrell Court. He hoped to be with them on Thursday evening.
Lady Darrell's fair face flushed as she read. He was coming, then, this man who above all others had taken her fancy captive – this man whom, with all her worldly scheming, she would have married without money if he had but asked her. He was coming, and he would see her in all the glory of her prosperity. He would be almost sure to fall in love with her; and she – well, it was not the first time that she whispered to her own heart how gladly she would love him. She was too excited by her pleasant news to be quite prudent. She must have a confidante – she must tell some one that he was coming.
She went to the study, where Miss Hastings and Pauline were busily engaged with some water-colors. She held the open letter in her hand.
"Miss Hastings, I have news for you," she said. "I know that all that interested Sir Oswald is full of interest for you. Pauline, you too will be pleased to hear that Captain Langton is coming. Sir Oswald loved him very much."
Pauline knew that, and had cause to regret it.
"I should be much pleased," continued Lady Darrell, "if, without interfering with your arrangements, you could help me to entertain him."
Miss Hastings looked up with a smile of assent.
"Anything that lies in my power," she said, "I shall be only too happy to do; but I fear I shall be rather at a loss how to amuse a handsome young officer like Captain Langton."
Lady Darrell laughed, but looked much pleased.
"You are right," she said – "he is handsome. I do not know that I have ever seen one more handsome."
Then she stopped abruptly, for she caught the gleam of Pauline's scornful smile – the dark eyes were looking straight at her. Lady Darrell blushed crimson, and the smile on Pauline's lips deepened.
"I see my way now," she said to herself. "Time, fate, and opportunity will combine at last."
"And you, Pauline," inquired Lady Darrell, in her most caressing manner – "you will help me with my visitor – will you not?"
"Pardon me, I must decline," answered Miss Darrell.
"Why, I thought Captain Langton and yourself were great friends!" cried Lady Darrell.
"I am not answerable for your thoughts, Lady Darrell," said Pauline.
"But you – you sing so beautifully! Oh, Pauline, you must help me!" persisted Lady Darrell.
She drew nearer to the girl, and was about to lay one white jeweled hand on her arm, but Pauline drew back with a haughty gesture there was no mistaking.
"Pray understand me, Lady Darrell," she said – "all arts and persuasions are, as you know, lost on me. I decline to do anything toward entertaining your visitor, and shall avoid him as much as possible."
Lady Darrell looked up, her face pale, and with a frightened look upon it.
"Why do you speak so, Pauline? You must have some reason for it. Tell me what it is."
No one had ever heard Lady Darrell speak so earnestly before.
"Tell me!" she repeated, and her very heart was in the words.
"Pardon me if I keep my counsel," said Pauline. "There is wisdom in few words."
Then Miss Hastings, always anxious to make peace, said:
"Do not be anxious, Lady Darrell; Pauline knows that some of the unpleasantness she had with Sir Oswald was owing to Captain Langton. Perhaps that fact may affect her view of his character."
Lady Darrell discreetly retired from the contest.
"I am sure you will both do all you can," she said, in her most lively manner. "We must have some charades, and a ball; we shall have plenty of time to talk this over when our guests arrive." And, anxious to go before Pauline said anything more, Lady Darrell quitted the room.
"My dear Pauline," said Miss Hastings, "if you would – "
But she paused suddenly, for Pauline was sitting with a rapt expression on her face, deaf to every word.
Such a light was in those dark eyes, proud, triumphant, and clear – such a smile on those curved lips; Pauline looked as though she could see into futurity, and as though, while the view half frightened, it pleased her.
Suddenly she rose from her seat, with her hands clasped, evidently forgetting that she was not alone.
"Nothing could be better," she said. "I could not have asked of fate or fortune anything better than this."
When Miss Hastings, wondering at her strange, excited manner, asked her a question, she looked up with the vague manner of one just aroused from deep sleep.
"What are you thing of, Pauline?" asked Miss Hastings.
"I am thinking," she replied, with a dreamy smile, "what good fortune always attends those who know how to wait. I have waited, and what I desired is come."
Thursday came at last. Certainly Lady Darrell had spared neither time nor expense in preparing for her visitor; it was something like a warrior's home-coming – the rarest of wines, the fairest of flowers, the sweetest of smiles awaiting him. Lady Darrell's dress was the perfection of good taste – plain white silk trimmed with black lace, with a few flowers in her golden hair. She knew that she was looking her best; it was the first time that the captain had seen her in her present position, so she was anxious to make the most favorable impression on him.
"Welcome once more to Darrell Court!" she said, holding out one white hand in greeting.
"It seems like a welcome to Paradise," said the captain, profanely; and then he bowed with the grace of a Chesterfield over the little hand that he still held clasped in his own.
