Love Works Wonders: A Novel. Charlotte M. Brame
of the house of Darrell have always been ladies – high-bred, elegant women. I doubt if any of them ever knew what the word 'Bohemian' meant."
She laughed a little scornful laugh, which yet was sweet and clear as the sound of silver bells.
"I had almost forgotten," said Sir Oswald. "I came to speak to you about something, Pauline; will you come into the house with me?"
They walked on together in silence for some minutes, and then Sir Oswald began:
"I went to London, as you know, last week, Pauline, and my errand was on your behalf."
She raised her eyebrows, but did not deign to ask any questions.
"I have engaged a lady to live with us here at Darrell Court, whose duties will be to finish your education, or, rather, I may truthfully say, to begin it, to train you in the habits of refined society, to – to – make you presentable, in fact, Pauline, which I am sorry, really sorry to say, you are not at present."
She made him a low bow – a bow full of defiance and rebellion.
"I am indeed indebted to you, Sir Oswald."
"No trifling," said the stately baronet, "no sarcasm, Pauline, but listen to me! You are not without sense or reason – pray attend. Look around you," he continued; "remember that the broad fair lands of Darrell Court form one of the grandest domains in England. It is an inheritance almost royal in its extent and magnificence. Whoso reigns here is king or queen of half a county, is looked up to, respected, honored, admired, and imitated. The owner of Darrell Court is a power even in this powerful land of ours; men and women look up to such a one for guidance and example. Judge then what the owner of the inheritance should be."
The baronet's grand old face was flushed with emotion.
"He must be pure, or he would make immorality the fashion; honorable, because men will take their notions of honor from him; just, that justice may abound; upright, stainless. You see all that, Pauline?"
"Yes," she assented, quickly.
"No men have so much to answer for," continued Sir Oswald, "as the great ones of the land – men in whose hands power is vested – men to whom others look for example, on whose lives other lives are modeled – men who, as it were, carry the minds, if not the souls, of their fellow men in the hollows of their hands."
Pauline looked more impressed, and insensibly drew nearer to him.
"Such men, I thank Heaven," he said, standing bareheaded as he uttered the words, "have the Darrells been – loyal, upright, honest, honorable, of stainless repute, of stainless life, fitted to rule their fellow men – grand men, sprung from a grand old race. And at times women have reigned here – women whose names have lived in the annals of the land – who have been as shining lights from the purity, the refinement, the grandeur of their lives."
He spoke with a passion of eloquence not lost on the girl by his side.
"I," he continued, humbly, "am one of the least worthy of my race. I have done nothing for its advancement; but at the same time I have done nothing to disgrace it. I have carried on the honors passively. The time is coming when Darrell Court must pass into other hands. Now, Pauline, you have heard, you know what the ruler of Darrell Court should be. Tell me, are you fitted to take your place here?"
"I am very young," she murmured.
"It is not a question of youth. Dame Sibella Darrell reigned here when she was only eighteen; and the sons she trained to succeed her were among the greatest statesmen England has ever known. She improved and enlarged the property; she died, after living here sixty years, beloved, honored, and revered. It is not a question of age."
"I am a Darrell!" said the girl, proudly.
"Yes, you have the face and figure of a Darrell; you bear the name, too; but you have not the grace and manner of a Darrell."
"Those are mere outward matters of polish and veneer," she said, impatiently.
"Nay, not so. You would not think it right to see an unformed, untrained, uneducated, ignorant girl at the head of such a house as this. What did you do yesterday? A maid displeased you. You boxed her ears. Just imagine it. Such a proceeding on the part of the mistress of Darrell Court would fill one with horror."
A slight smile rippled over the full crimson lips.
"Queen Elizabeth boxed her courtiers' ears," said the girl, "and it seemed right to her."
"A queen, Pauline, is hedged in by her own royalty; she may do what she will. The very fact that you are capable of defending an action so violent, so unlady-like, so opposed to all one's ideas of feminine delicacy, proves that you are unfit for the position you ought to occupy."
"I am honest, at least. I make no pretensions to be what I am not."
"So is my butler honest, but that does not fit him to be master of Darrell Court. Honesty is but one quality – a good one, sturdy and strong; it requires not one, but many qualities to hold such a position as I would fain have you occupy."
Miss Darrell's patience was evidently at an end.
"And the upshot of all this, Sir Oswald, is – "
"Exactly so – that I am anxious to give you every chance in my power – that I have found an estimable, refined, elegant woman, who will devote her time and talents to train you and fit you for society."
A low, musical laugh broke from the perfect lips.
"Have you any idea," she asked, "what I shall be like when I am trained?"
"Like a lady, I trust – a well-bred lady. I can imagine nothing more beautiful than that."
"When is she coming, this model of yours, Sir Oswald?"
"Nay, your model, niece, not mine. She is here now, and I wish to introduce her to you. I should like you, if possible," he concluded, meekly, "to make a favorable impression on her."
There was another impatient murmur.
"I wish you to understand, Pauline," he resumed, after a short pause, "that I shall expect you to render the most implicit obedience to Miss Hastings – to follow whatever rules she may lay down for you, to attend to your studies as she directs them, to pay the greatest heed to all her corrections, to copy her style, to imitate her manners, to – "
"I hate her!" was the impetuous outburst. "I would sooner be a beggar all my life than submit to such restraint."
"Very well," returned Sir Oswald, calmly. "I know that arguing with you is time lost. The choice lies with yourself. If you decide to do as I wish – to study to become a lady in the truest sense of the word – if you will fit yourself for the position, you shall be heiress of Darrell Court; if not – if you persist in your present unlady-like, unrefined, Bohemian manner, I shall leave the whole property to some one else. I tell you the plain truth without any disguise."
"I do not want Darrell Court!" she cried, passionately; "it is a prison to me!"
"I excuse you," rejoined Sir Oswald, coldly; "you are excited, and so not answerable for what you say."
"Uncle," said the girl, "do you see that beautiful singing bird there, giving voice to such glorious melody? Do you think you could catch it and put it in a cage?"
"I have no doubt that I could," replied Sir Oswald.
"But, if you did," she persisted; "even suppose you could make it forget its own wild melodies, could you teach it to sing formally by note and at your will?"
"I have never supposed anything of the kind," said Sir Oswald. "You are possessed of far too much of that kind of nonsense. The young ladies of the present day – properly educated girls – do not talk in that way."
"I can easily believe it," she returned, bitterly.
"Miss Hastings is in the library," said Sir Oswald, as they entered the house. "I hope to see you receive her kindly. Put away that frown, Pauline, and smile if you can. Remember, it is characteristic of the Darrells to be gracious to strangers."
With these words Sir Oswald opened the library door, and holding his niece's hand, entered