"It is not always best to put our thoughts in speech; and the chances are, Miss Darrell, that, if you have read every book you could find, you have read many that would have been better left alone. You are giving a very one-sided, prejudiced view after all." She raised her beautiful head with a gesture of superb disdain. "There is the same difference between them and myself as between a mechanical singing bird made to sing three tunes and a wild, sweet bird of the woods. I like my own self best." "There is not the least doubt of that," observed Miss Hastings, with a smile; "but the question is not so much what we like ourselves as what others like in us. However, we will discuss that at another time, Miss Darrell." "Has my uncle told you that if I please him--if I can be molded into the right form--I am to be heiress of Darrell Court?" she asked, quickly. "Yes; and now that I have seen you I am persuaded that you can be anything you wish." "Do you think, then, that I am clever?" she asked, eagerly. "I should imagine so," replied Miss Hastings. "Pauline--I need not call you Miss Darrell--I hope we shall be friends; I trust we shall be happy together." "It is not very likely," she said, slowly, "that I can like you, Miss Hastings." "Why not?" asked the governess, astonished at her frankness. "Because you are to correct me; continual correction will be a great annoyance, and will prevent my really liking you." Miss Hastings looked astounded. "That may be, Pauline," she said; "but do you know that it is not polite of you to say so? In good society one does not tell such unpleasant truths." "That is just it," was the eager retort; "that is why I do not like good society, and shall never be fit for it. I am truthful by nature. In my father's house and among his friends there was never any need to conceal the truth; we always spoke it frankly. If we did not like each other, we said so. But here, it seems to me, the first lesson learned to fit one for society is to speak falsely." "Not so, Pauline; but, when the truth is likely to hurt another's feelings, to wound susceptibility or pride, why speak it, unless it is called for?" Pauline moved her white arms with a superb gesture of scorn. "I would rather any day hear the truth and have my mind hurt," she said, energetically, "than feel that people were smiling at me and deceiving me. Lady Hampton visits Sir Oswald. I do not like her, and she does not like me; but she always asks Sir Oswald how his 'dear niece' is, and she calls me a 'sweet creature--original, but very sweet' You can see for yourself, Miss Hastings, that I am not that." "Indeed, you are not sweet," returned the governess, smiling; "but, Pauline, you are a mimic, and mimicry is a dangerous gift." She had imitated Lady Hampton's languid tones and affected accent to perfection.