She flung up her arms with a wild cry of despair. None ever suffered more than did Pauline Darrell then. "Oh, my sin," she moaned, "my grievous sin!" She tried to soothe the unhappy woman, but Lady Darrell turned from her with all the energy of despair. "I cannot believe you," she cried; "it is an infamous plot to destroy my happiness and to destroy me. Hark! There is Aubrey Langton's voice; come with me and say before him what you have said to me." CHAPTER XXXIX. FACE TO FACE. Captain Langton looked up in surprise not altogether unfounded, the sight that met his eyes was so unusual. Before him stood Lady Darrell, her face white as death, her lips quivering with excitement, her superb dress of pink brocade all disarranged, her golden hair falling over her beautiful shoulders--a sight not to be forgotten; she held Pauline by the hand, and in all her life Lady Darrell had never looked so agitated as now. "Captain Langton," said Lady Darrell, "will you come here? I want you most particularly." It was by pure chance that she opened the library door--it was the one nearest to her. "Will you follow me?" she said. He looked from one to the other with somewhat of confusion in his face. "Miss Darrell!" he cried. "Why, I thought you were at Omberleigh!" Pauline made no reply. Lady Darrell held the library door open while they entered, and then she closed it, and turned the key. Captain Langton looked at her in wonder. "Elinor," he said, "what does this mean? Are you going to play a tragedy or a farce?" "That will depend upon you," she answered; "I am glad and thankful to have brought you and Miss Darrell face to face. Now I shall know the truth." The surprise on his face deepened into an angry scowl. "What do you mean?" he demanded, sharply. "I do not understand." It was a scene never to be forgotten. The library was dim with the shadows of the autumn evening, and in the gloom Lady Darrell's pale pink dress, golden hair, and white arms bare to the shoulder, seemed to attract all the light; her face was changed from its great agitation--the calm, fair beauty, the gentle, caressing manner were gone. Near her stood Pauline, whose countenance was softened with compassion and pity unutterable, the dark eyes shining as through a mist of tears. Before them, as a criminal before his judges, stood Aubrey Langton, with an angry scowl on his handsome face, and yet something like fear in his eyes. "What is it?" he cried, impatiently. "I cannot understand this at all." Lady Darrell turned her pale face to him. "Captain Langton," she said, gravely, "Miss Darrell brings a terrible accusation against you. She tells me that you stole the roll of notes that Sir Oswald missed, and that at the price of her life you extorted an oath from her not to betray you; is it true?" She looked at him bravely, fearlessly. "It is a lie!" he said. Lady Darrell continued: