"It was very pleasant," said Lady Darrell, with a dreamy little sigh. "You have been very quiet, I suppose? We must try to create a little more gayety for you." She looked anxiously across the room at Pauline; but that young lady's attention was entirely engrossed by the crimson flowers of the beautiful plant. Not one line of the superb figure, not one expression of the proud face, was lost upon Lady Darrell. "I have been saying to Sir Oswald," she continued, looking intently at the costly rings shining on her fingers, "that youth likes gayety--we must have a series of parties and balls." "Is she beginning to patronize me?" thought Pauline. She smiled to herself--a peculiar smile which Lady Darrell happened to catch, and which made her feel very uncomfortable; and then an awkward silence fell over them, only broken by the entrance of Sir Oswald, and the announcement that dinner was served. CHAPTER XXIV. A RICH GIFT DECLINED. The bride's first dinner at home was over, and had been a great success. Lady Darrell had not evinced the least emotion; she had married for her present social position--for a fine house, troops of servants, beautiful, warm, fragrant rooms, choice wines, and luxurious living; it was only part and parcel of what she expected, and intended to have. She took the chair of state provided for her, and by the perfect ease and grace of her manner proved that she was well fitted for it. Sir Oswald watched her with keen delight, only regretting that years ago he had not taken unto himself a wife. He was most courtly, most deferential, most attractive. If Lady Darrell did occasionally feel weary, and the memory of Aubrey Langton's face rose between her and her husband, she made no sign. When the three ladies withdrew, she made no further efforts to conciliate Pauline. She looked at her, but seemed almost afraid to speak. Then she opened a conversation with Miss Hastings, and the two persevered in their amiable small talk until Pauline rose and went to the piano, the scornful glance on her face deepening. "This is making one's self amiable!" she thought. "What a blessing it would be if people would speak only when they had something sensible to say!" She sat down before the piano, but suddenly remembered that she had not been asked to do so, and that she was no longer mistress of the house--a reflection sufficiently galling to make her rise quickly, and go to the other end of the room. "Pauline," said Lady Darrell, "pray sing for us. Miss Hastings tells me you have a magnificent voice." "Have I? Miss Hastings is not so complimentary when she speaks to me alone."