"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."