He returned to the house. No one noticed that his face was paler than usual, that his eyes were shadowed and strange; no one knew that his breath came in hot gasps, and that his heart beat with great irregular throbs.
"I will woo Lady Darrell and win her," he said, "and then Pauline shall suffer."
What a contrast that graceful woman, with her fair face and caressing manner, presented to the girl he had just left, with her passionate beauty and passionate scorn! Lady Darrell looked up at him with eyes of sweetest welcome.
"You have been out in the grounds," she said, gently; "the evening is very pleasant."
"Did you miss me, Lady Darrell—Elinor?" he asked, bending over her chair.
He saw a warm blush rising in her cheeks, and in his heart he felt some little contempt for the conquest so easily made.
"Did you miss me, Elinor?" he repeated. "You must let me call you Elinor—I think it is the sweetest name in all the world."
It was almost cruel to trifle with her, for, although she was conventional to the last degree, and had but little heart, still what heart she had was all his. It was so easy to deceive her, too; she was so ready to believe in him and love him that her misplaced affection was almost pitiable. She raised her blue eyes to his; there was no secret in them for him.
"I am very glad my name pleases you," she said; "I never cared much for it before."
"But you will like it now?" he asked; and then bending over her chair, he whispered something that sent a warm, rosy flush over her face and neck.