"To waste one's whole heart in loving a face," she thought, "would be absurd. Yet the sweetest of all heroines--Elaine--did so." A great calm, one that lulled her brooding discontent, that stilled her angry despair, that seemed to raise her above the earth, that refined and beautified every thought, was upon her. She reached home, and Miss Hastings, looking at the beautiful face on which she had never seen so sweet an expression, so tender a light before, wondered what had come over her. So, too, like Elaine-- All night his face before her lived, and the face was Dark, splendid, sparkling in the silence, full Of noble things. All unconsciously, all unknowingly, the love had come to her that was to work wonders--the love that was to be her redemption. CHAPTER XXXV. THE STORY OF ELAINE. Miss Hastings laid down the newspaper, with a quick glance of pleased surprise. "I am glad that I came to Omberleigh," she said. "Imagine, Pauline, who is here. You have heard me speak of the St. Lawrences. I educated Laura St. Lawrence, and she married well and went to India. Her husband holds a very high appointment there. Lady St. Lawrence is here with her son, Sir Vane. I am so pleased." "And I am pleased for you," responded Pauline, with the new gentleness that sat so well upon her. "I must go and see them," continued Miss Hastings. "They are staying at Sea View. We can soon find out where Sea View is." "St. Lawrence!" said Pauline, musingly; "I like the name; it has a pleasant sound." "They are noble people who bear it," observed Miss Hastings. "Lady St. Lawrence was always my ideal of a thoroughbred English gentlewoman. I never heard how it was, but the greater part of their fortune was lost when Sir Arthur died. He left but this one son, Vane; and, although he has the title, he has but little to support it with. I know their family estates were all sold. Lady St. Lawrence has a small fortune of her own; but it is not much." Again Pauline repeated the name to herself--"Vane St. Lawrence!"--thinking there was a sound as of half-forgotten music in it. That was a name that would have suited the face she had watched on the sands. "Vane St. Lawrence!" Unconsciously to herself she had said the words aloud. Miss Hastings looked up quickly. "Did you speak, my dear?" she asked; and Pauline wondered to find her face suddenly grow warm with a burning blush. "I think," said Miss Hastings, presently, "that I should like to visit them at once. Lady St. Lawrence may not be staying long, and I should never forgive myself if I were to miss her. Will you come with me, Pauline?" "Yes, willingly." She was ready to go anywhere, to do anything, with that great, wonderful love, that great, grand calm, filling her heart and soul. For the first time the sight of her own magnificent loveliness pleased her. "I may see him again," she thought to herself with almost child-like simplicity, "and I should like him to think of me."