Love Works Wonders: A Novel. Charlotte M. Brame

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СКАЧАТЬ over again. You have never had any settled plan of study, I should imagine."

      "No. I learned drawing from Jules Lacroix. Talk of talent, Miss Hastings. You should have known him – he was the handsomest artist I ever saw. There was something so picturesque about him."

      "Doubtless," was the dry response; "but I think 'picturesque' is not the word to use in such a case. Music, I presume, you taught yourself?"

      The girl's whole face brightened – her manner changed.

      "Yes, I taught myself; poor papa could not afford to pay for my lessons. Shall I play to you, Miss Hastings?"

      There was a piano in the study, a beautiful and valuable instrument, which Sir Oswald had ordered for his niece.

      "I shall be much pleased to hear you," said Miss Hastings.

      Pauline Darrell rose and went to the piano. Her face then was as the face of one inspired. She sat down and played a few chords, full, beautiful, and harmonious.

      "I will sing to you," she said. "We often went to the opera – papa, Jules, Louis, and myself. I used to sing everything I heard. This is from 'Il Puritani.'"

      And she sang one of the most beautiful solos in the opera.

      Her voice was magnificent, full, ringing, vibrating with passion – a voice that, like her face, could hardly be forgotten; but she played and sang entirely after a fashion of her own.

      "Now, Miss Hastings," she said, "I will imitate Adelina Patti."

      Face, voice, manner, all changed; she began one of the far-famed prima-donna's most admired songs, and Miss Hastings owned to herself that if she had closed her eyes she might have believed Madame Patti present.

      "This is a la Christine Nilsson," continued Pauline; and again the imitation was brilliant and perfect.

      The magnificent voice did not seem to tire, though she sang song after song, and imitated in the most marvelous manner some of the grandest singers of the day. Miss Hasting left her seat and went up to her.

      "You have a splendid voice, my dear, and great musical genius. Now tell me, do you know a single note of music?"

      "Not one," was the quick reply.

      "You know nothing of the keys, time, or anything else?"

      "Why should I trouble myself when I could play without learning anything of the kind?"

      "But that kind of playing, Pauline, although it is very clever, would not do for educated people."

      "Is it not good enough for them?" she asked, serenely.

      "No; one cannot help admiring it, but any educated person hearing you would detect directly that you did not know your notes."

      "Would they think much less of me on that account?" she asked, with the same serenity.

      "Yes; every one would think it sad to see so much talent wasted. You must begin to study hard; you must learn to play by note, not by ear, and then all will be well. You love music, Pauline?"

      How the beautiful face glowed and the dark eyes shone.

      "I love it," she said, "because I can put my whole soul into it – there is room for one's soul in it. You will be shocked, I know, but that is why I liked Comte's theories – because they filled my mind, and gave me so much to think of."

      "Were I in your place I should try to forget them, Pauline."

      "You should have seen Sir Oswald's face when I told him I had read Comte and Darwin. He positively groaned aloud."

      And she laughed as she remembered his misery.

      "I feel very much inclined to groan myself," said Miss Hastings. "You shall have theories, or facts, higher, more beautiful, nobler, grander far than any Comte ever dreamed. And now we must begin to work in real earnest."

      But Pauline Darrell did not move; her dark eyes were shadowed, her beautiful face grew sullen and determined.

      "You are going to spoil my life," she said. "Hitherto it has been a glorious life – free, gladsome, and bright; now you are going to parcel it out. There will be no more sunshiny hours; you are going to reduce me to a kind of machine, to cut off all my beautiful dreams, my lofty thoughts. You want to make me a formal, precise young lady, who will laugh, speak, and think by rule."

      "I want to make you a sensible woman, my dear Pauline," corrected Miss Hastings, gravely.

      "Who is the better or the happier for being so sensible?" demanded Pauline.

      She paused for a few minutes, and then she added, suddenly:

      "Darrell Court and all the wealth of the Darrells are not worth it, Miss Hastings."

      "Not worth what, Pauline?"

      "Not worth the price I must pay."

      "What is the price?" asked Miss Hastings, calmly.

      "My independence, my freedom of action and thought, my liberty of speech."

      "Do you seriously value these more highly than all that Sir Oswald could leave you?"

      "I do – a thousand times more highly," she replied.

      Miss Hastings was silent for some few minutes, and then said:

      "We must do our best; suppose we make a compromise? I will give you all the liberty that I honestly can, in every way, and you shall give your attention to the studies I propose. I will make your task as easy as I can for you. Darrell Court is worth a struggle."

      "Yes," was the half-reluctant reply, "it is worth a struggle, and I will make it."

      But there was not much hope in the heart of the governess when she commenced her task.

      CHAPTER V.

      PAULINE'S GOOD POINTS

      How often Sir Oswald's simile of the untrained, unpruned, uncultivated vine returned to the mind of Miss Hastings! Pauline Darrell was by nature a genius, a girl of magnificent intellect, a grand, noble, generous being all untrained. She had in her capabilities of the greatest kind – she could be either the very empress of wickedness or angelic. She was gloriously endowed, but it was impossible to tell how she would develop; there was no moderation in her, she acted always from impulse, and her impulses were quick, warm, and irresistible. If she had been an actress, she would surely have been the very queen of the stage. Her faults were like her virtues, all grand ones. There was nothing trivial, nothing mean, nothing ungenerous about her. She was of a nature likely to be led to the highest criminality or the highest virtue; there could be no medium of mediocre virtue for her. She was full of character, charming even in her willfulness, but utterly devoid of all small affectations. There was in her the making of a magnificent woman, a great heroine; but nothing could have brought her to the level of commonplace people. Her character was almost a terrible one in view of the responsibilities attached to it.

      Grand, daring, original, Pauline was all force, all fire, all passion. Whatever she loved, she loved with an intensity almost terrible to witness. There was also no "middle way" in her dislikes – she hated with a fury of hate. She had little patience, little toleration; one of her greatest СКАЧАТЬ