Love Works Wonders: A Novel. Charlotte M. Brame
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Название: Love Works Wonders: A Novel

Автор: Charlotte M. Brame

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Зарубежная классика

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isbn: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33989

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СКАЧАТЬ I should like you, if possible," he concluded, meekly, "to make a favorable impression on her."

      There was another impatient murmur.

      "I wish you to understand, Pauline," he resumed, after a short pause, "that I shall expect you to render the most implicit obedience to Miss Hastings – to follow whatever rules she may lay down for you, to attend to your studies as she directs them, to pay the greatest heed to all her corrections, to copy her style, to imitate her manners, to – "

      "I hate her!" was the impetuous outburst. "I would sooner be a beggar all my life than submit to such restraint."

      "Very well," returned Sir Oswald, calmly. "I know that arguing with you is time lost. The choice lies with yourself. If you decide to do as I wish – to study to become a lady in the truest sense of the word – if you will fit yourself for the position, you shall be heiress of Darrell Court; if not – if you persist in your present unlady-like, unrefined, Bohemian manner, I shall leave the whole property to some one else. I tell you the plain truth without any disguise."

      "I do not want Darrell Court!" she cried, passionately; "it is a prison to me!"

      "I excuse you," rejoined Sir Oswald, coldly; "you are excited, and so not answerable for what you say."

      "Uncle," said the girl, "do you see that beautiful singing bird there, giving voice to such glorious melody? Do you think you could catch it and put it in a cage?"

      "I have no doubt that I could," replied Sir Oswald.

      "But, if you did," she persisted; "even suppose you could make it forget its own wild melodies, could you teach it to sing formally by note and at your will?"

      "I have never supposed anything of the kind," said Sir Oswald. "You are possessed of far too much of that kind of nonsense. The young ladies of the present day – properly educated girls – do not talk in that way."

      "I can easily believe it," she returned, bitterly.

      "Miss Hastings is in the library," said Sir Oswald, as they entered the house. "I hope to see you receive her kindly. Put away that frown, Pauline, and smile if you can. Remember, it is characteristic of the Darrells to be gracious to strangers."

      With these words Sir Oswald opened the library door, and holding his niece's hand, entered the room. Miss Hastings rose to receive them. He led Pauline to her, and in the kindest manner possible introduced them to each other.

      "I will leave you together," he said. "Pauline will show you your rooms, Miss Hastings; and I hope that you will soon feel happy, and quite at home with us."

      Sir Oswald quitted the library, leaving the two ladies looking in silence at each other.

      CHAPTER III.

      "YOUR GOOD SOCIETY IS ALL DECEIT."

      Miss Hastings had been prepared to see a hoiden, an awkward, unfledged schoolgirl, one who, never having seen much of good society, had none of the little graces and charms that distinguish young ladies. She had expected to see a tall, gaunt girl, with red hands, and a general air of not knowing what to do with herself – that was the idea she had formed. She gazed in wonder at the reality – a magnificent figure – a girl whose grand, pale, statuesque beauty was something that could never be forgotten. There was nothing of the boarding-school young lady about her; no acquired graces. She was simply magnificent – no other word could describe her. Miss Hastings, as she looked at her, thought involuntarily of the graceful lines, the beautiful curves, the grand, free grace of the world-renowned Diana of the Louvre; there was the same arched, graceful neck, the same royal symmetry, the same harmony of outline.

      In one of the most celebrated art galleries of Rome Miss Hastings remembered to have seen a superb bust of Juno; as she looked at her new pupil, she could almost fancy that its head had been modeled from hers. Pauline's head was royal in its queenly contour; the brow low, white, and rounded at the temples; the hair, waving in lines of inexpressible beauty, was loosely gathered together and fastened behind with a gleaming silver arrow. The eyes were perhaps the most wonderful feature in that wonderful face; they were dark as night itself, somewhat in hue like a purple heartsease, rich, soft, dreamy, yet at times all fire, all brightness, filled with passion more intense than any words, and shining then with a strange half-golden light. The brows were straight, dark, and beautiful; the lips crimson, full, and exquisitely shaped; the mouth looked like one that could persuade or contemn – that could express tenderness or scorn, love or pride, with the slightest play of the lips.

      Every attitude the girl assumed was full of unconscious grace. She did not appear to be in the least conscious of her wonderful beauty. She had walked to the window, and stood leaning carelessly against the frame, one beautiful arm thrown above her head, as though she were weary, and would fain rest – an attitude that could not have been surpassed had she studied it for years.

      "You are not at all what I expected to see," said Miss Hastings, at last. "You are, indeed, so different that I am taken by surprise."

      "Am I better or worse than you had imagined me?" she asked, with careless scorn.

      "You are different – better, perhaps, in some things. You are taller. You are so tall that it will be difficult to remember you are a pupil."

      "The Darrells are a tall race," she said, quietly. "Miss Hastings, what have you come here to teach me?"

      The elder lady rose from her seat and looked lovingly into the face of the girl; she placed her hand caressingly on the slender shoulders.

      "I know what I should like to teach you, Miss Darrell, if you will let me. I should like to teach you your duty to Heaven, your fellow-creatures, and yourself."

      "That would be dry learning, I fear," she returned. "What does my uncle wish me to learn?"

      "To be in all respects a perfectly refined, graceful lady."

      Her face flushed with a great crimson wave that rose to the white brow and the delicate shell-like ears.

      "I shall never be that," she cried, passionately. "I may just as well give up all hopes of Darrell Court. I have seen some ladies since I have been here. I could not be like them. They seem to speak by rule; they all say the same kind of things, with the same smiles, in the same tone of voice; they follow each other like sheep; they seem frightened to advance an opinion of their own, or even give utterance to an original thought. They look upon me as something horrible, because I dare to say what I think, and have read every book I could find."

      "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 СКАЧАТЬ