Lady Hampton had given way; her old dislike of Pauline had changed into deep admiration of her sweet, womanly virtues, her graceful humility. "If any one had ever told me," she said, "that Pauline Darrell would have turned out as she has, I could not have believed it. The way in which she devoted herself to my niece was wonderful. I can only say that in my opinion she deserves Darrell Court." The legacy made Lady Hampton very happy; it increased her income so handsomely that she resolved to live no longer at the Elms, but to return to London, where the happiest part of her life had been spent. "I shall come to Darrell Court occasionally," she said, "so that you may not quite forget me;" and Pauline was surprised to find that she felt nothing save regret at parting with one whom she had disliked with all the injustice of youth. A few months afterward came a still greater surprise. The lover from whom Miss Hastings had been parted in her early youth--who had left England for Russia long years ago, and whom she had believed dead--returned to England, and never rested until he had found his lost love. In vain the gentle, kind-hearted lady protested that she was too old to marry--that she had given up all thoughts of love. Mr. Bereton would not hear of it, and Pauline added her entreaties to his. "But I cannot leave you, my dear," said Miss Hastings. "You cannot live all by yourself." "I shall most probably have to spend my life alone," she replied, "and I will not have your happiness sacrificed to mine." Between her lover and her pupil Miss Hastings found all resistance hopeless. Pauline took a positive delight and pleasure in the preparations for the marriage, and, in spite of all that Miss Hastings could say to the contrary, she insisted upon settling a very handsome income upon her. There was a tone of sadness in all that Pauline said with reference to her future which struck Miss Hastings with wonder. "You never speak of your own marriage," she said, "or your own future--why is it, Pauline?" The beautiful face was overshadowed for a moment, and then she replied: "It is because I have no hope. I had a presentiment when Vane went away, that I should not see him again. There are some strange thoughts always haunting me. If I reap as I have sowed, what then?" "My dear child, no one could do more than you have done. You repented of your fault, and atoned for it in the best way you were able." But the lovely face only grew more sad. "I was so willful, so proud, so scornful. I did not deserve a happy life. I am trying to forget all the romance and the love, all the poetry of my youth, and to live only for my duty." "But Sir Vane will come back," said Miss Hastings. "I do not know--all hope seemed to die in my heart when he went away. But let us talk of you and your future without reference to mine." * * * * *