And Primrose cut bread and poured out coffee and supplied her guest, in a sort of passion of hospitality.
To say that the guest was as hungry as she should have been after such a fast, would be perhaps too much; last night was still too fresh for that; but seventeen has great restorative powers at command, and Prim's coffee was undeniably good. Hazel grew more like herself as the meal went on, though her eyes kept their tired look, and her manner was a trifle abstracted. But Prim asked no questions; only hovered about her with all sorts of affectionate words and ways, till Rollo came in. He sat down and began to make himself generally useful, in his wonted manner.
'Duke,' said Primrose, 'Miss Kennedy has been asking me if we ever make mistakes in this house!'
'What did you tell her?'
'Why you know what I told her. I am not sure about papa; but the rest of us don't boast of infallible wisdom.'
'Do you mean that he does?' said Duke, drily. At whichPrimrose laughed. 'Have you been asleep, Miss Hazel?'
'Beyond reach of all earthly things. Have you?'
Rollo remarked that he never got so far as that.
'No,' said Primrose, 'I never saw such a sleeper. He'll be sound asleep, sound and fast; not dreaming nor stirring; and if there comes the least little sound that thereoughtn'tto be, he's up and broad awake and in possession of all his senses in a minute.'
'How do you know?' said the subject of this description.
'I know,' said Primrose. 'Thunder wouldn't waken him; and the turning of a key in a lock would—suppose it was a time or place when the lock ought not to be turned.'
'Very interesting details!' said Rollo. 'They may be useful in the study of psychology—or physiology. Which is your favourite study, Miss Hazel?'
'Whichever will throw the most light upon this; Prim, can he also detect "the least little sound that oughtn't to be,' when there is none at all?' said Hazel thinking of last night.
'No, he can't,' said Rollo, shaking his head. 'That's a physiological question. But here is one in psychology: Can a person be sensible of an unknownpresencewhen yet there is none?'
'Ah!' she said, drawing a long breath and growing grave all at once, 'I wish one might! It would have been a comfort.'
'Well,' said he, 'I think I can resolve that question.'
'Duke, what are you talking of? You have got out of philosophy into metaphysics,' said Prim.
'Sheis the philosopher of the family,' said Rollo, by way of explanation to Hazel. 'But she has made a mistake. As she confesses she does make them, I may remark that.'
'Why, you are talking of perceiving what does not exist!' cried Prim.
'Is that what you call metaphysics? I should call it nonsense.'
'I never supposed you were talking nonsense, Duke.'
'No,' said Duke. 'Thatwouldbe a mistake. No, I was speaking, Prim, of the detection, by no visible or intelligible means, of what we are not aware has existence.'
'By no intelligible means,' said Prim. 'You mean, knowing a person is coming, that you have not heard is coming—and such things?'
'And knowing a person is near, who you had thought was very far off.'
'Yes,' said Prim thoughtfully; 'I know. It is very curious.'
'Witches, for instance?' said Hazel, with perfect gravity.
'No,' said Prim earnestly, 'I don't mean out-of-the-way people at all; though it is something "uncanny"—as it seems;—queer; I have heard of instances.'
'I have felt them,' said Rollo.
Primrose went into a brown study over the question.
'But do you think,' Rollo went on gravely addressing Wych Hazel, 'that this sort of mental action can take place except where there are strong sympathetic—or other—relations between the parties?'
'So that the magnet finds out the iron, when it would pass by the lead?—is that what you mean?'
A significant, quick, keen look; and then Rollo said, very gravely,
'But it strikes me we have got the thing reversed. Is it not rather the iron that finds the magnet?'
'The magnet must be conscious too,' said Hazel. 'And I think it moves—where the iron is in sufficient quantity.'
'It would be a poor rule that wouldn't work both ways,' saidRollo, with dry simplicity.
'What are you talking about?' said Primrose. 'Do give Hazel some more raspberries. I am inclined to think this, Duke—'
'Well?'
'I am inclined to think that in those cases you have been speaking of, there is testimony of the person's presence, only it is in some such little slight things as were insufficient to draw attention to themselves, and only, by natural association of ideas, suggested the person.'
'What do you think, Miss Hazel?'
But she shook her head.
'If you go off to people—I should say, sometimes, that could not be.'
'So should I,' said Rollo.
'Why?' said Primrose.
'I cannot find in my consciousness, or memory, any corroboration of your theory.'
'I think I can in mine. Sometimes, at least.'
'Those are not my times,' said Rollo.
'And I don't know but you are right, too,' said Primrose, musing. 'I remember, that day you were coming home, I had not the least reason to think so, and yet you were in my mind all day.'
'What is your explanation then?' said he, smiling at her.
Prim was not ready with it; and before she was ready to speak again, Wych Hazel was informed that her escort was at her service.
Dr. Maryland's little old chaise was at the door. Rollo put Miss Kennedy in it and took the reins. It was late in the sweet Summer afternoon; the door and the road and the fields looked exceedingly unlike the same things seen in shadow and moonlight last night. Rollo never referred to that, however; he was just as usual; took care that Wych Hazel was comfortably seated, and made careless little remarks, in his wonted manner. Various people passed them; many were the greetings, answered for the most part very sedately by the young lady of Chickaree. But just as they entered the outskirts of her own domain, Rollo felt his companion shrink towards him with a sudden start. Then instantly she sat upright in her place. Two or three horsemen were in sight, at different distances; one, the nearest, was a stranger to Rollo. A remarkably handsome man, splendidly mounted, faultlessly dressed; riding his grey with the easy grace of a true cavalier. He uncovered before he was near enough to do more, and then bent even to his saddle-bow before Miss Kennedy. And to him, turning full upon him, did Miss Kennedy administer the most complete, cool, effectual cut that Mr. Rollo had ever seen bestowed. The rider's face turned crimson as he passed on.
Rollo made no sort of remark; drove gently, let the old horse come to a walk; and at last, throwing himself back into the corner of the chaise, so as to have a better look at his companion, he said:
'Does daylight and rest make a difference, and are you inclined to trust me with the explanation of what happened last night? I should be grateful.'
He could see now with what extreme effort she had done her work of execution—lip and chin were in a tremor.
'It was no want of trust, Mr. Rollo—I meant you should know. But—I could not tell you first,' she said rather timidly. 'I thought, perhaps, you would take the trouble to come in and hear me tell Mr. Falkirk.'
'Thank you,' he said, 'Iamgrateful.' And no more passed on the subject until the chaise reached the cottage.
Just glancing round at her companion to make sure that he followed, taking off her hat as she went, Hazel passed swiftly into the cottage and into Mr. Falkirk's study, to the foot of his couch—and there stood still. Very unlike the figure of last evening,—in the simplest pale Summer dress, with no adornment but her brown hair, and yet as Mr. Falkirk looked, he thought he has never seen her look so lovely. She was surely changing fast; the old girlish graces were taking to themselves the richer and stronger graces of womanhood; and like those evening flowers that open and unfold and gather sweetness if you but turn aside for a moment, so she seemed to have altered, even since her guardian's last look. The broad gipsy hanging from her hand, her long eyelashes drooped,—so she stood. Mr. Falkirk looked and took the effect of all this in a glance two seconds long, during which, something held his tongue. Then as his eye caught the figure that entered following her, it darted towards him a look of sudden surprise and suspicion. Than changed, however, almost as soon, and his eyes came back to his ward. But there is no doubt Mr. Falkirk scowled.
'So, Miss Hazel,' he began, in his usual manner, 'you found you could not manage other people's carriages last night?'
'Not the right ones, sir. Will you ask Mr. Rollo to sit down, Mr. Falkirk? It is due to me that he should hear all I have to say.'
'It is not due to anybody that you should say it standing,' said Rollo, wheeling up into convenient position the easiest chair that the room contained. She made him a slight sign of acknowledgement, but yielded only so far as to lay her hand on the chair back. Probably it was pleasant to touch something. Rollo stepped back to the mantlepiece and stood there, but not touching it or anything.
'It appears to me, Miss Hazel,' said the recumbent master of the house, 'that the invitation must come from you.'
'I have not been invited myself, sir, yet.'
'I do not recollect inviting you to be seated yesterday, my dear; is to-day different from yesterday?'
'Unless I have forgotten the frown which welcomed me then, sir. I suppose you have but a faint idea of the looming up of your brows just now.'
'What?' said Mr. Falkirk. 'Don't you know, Miss Hazel, a man's brows are not within his range of vision? and I deny that he is responsible for them. Am I frowning now?'
'Not quite so portentously, sir.'
'Then you need not stand so particularly, need you? I wonder, if I looked so fierce, how Rollo dared to offer you the civility of a chair in my presence; but people are different.'
'But I cannot sit there,' she said, with a glance towards the bringer of the chair, as she passed by its reposeful depths. 'Not now. If Mr. Rollo will make himself comfortable in his own way, I will in mine.' And Hazel brought a foot cushion to the couch and sat down there; a little turned away from the third member of the party; who however did not change his position.
'Is there business?' said Mr. Falkirk glancing from one to the other.
The girl gave him a swift glance of wonder.
'You used to think it was business, sir, to know what had become of me. Did you sleep well last night, Mr. Falkirk?'
'Why should I, any more than you?' said Mr. Falkirk in his old fashion of growling. 'Day is the proper time for sleeping, in the fashionable world.'
It made her restless—this keeping off the subject of which her thoughts were full. Didn't he mean to ask any questions?
'Why should not I have slept, sir?—if you come to that. The fashionable world was not to hold me beyond eleven.'
'So I understood, and endeavoured to stipulate,' said Mr. Falkirk, 'but I am told you were so late in returning that you would not come home, and preferred, somewhat inexplicably, disturbing Miss Maryland to disturbing me.'
'Is that what you think?' she answered, simply. 'That I broke my word? Mr. Falkirk, I began returning as you say, at a quarter past eleven.'
'I never expected you to get off before that, my dear. Then what was the matter?'
The girl hesitated a moment, and then one of her witch looks flashed through in spite of everything.
'I fell into Charybdis, sir, that was all.'
'I do not remember any such place between here and Merricksdale,' said Mr. Falkirk. 'Was it enchantment, my dear?' But his face was less careless than his words. Hers grew grave again at once; and, wasting no more time, Miss Kennedy addressed herself to business.
'I had arranged it all with Miss Bird,' she said, 'on the way there. She had a headache and was glad of an excuse to get away early. It was "a small party," I found, when you were in the house and the rest were out of doors, but otherwise everybody was there—and nearly everybody else. The trees were all lights and flowers; and supper tables stood ready from the first; and you know what the moon was. So altogether,' said Miss Hazel, 'it was hard to remember anything about time, and especially to find out. I fancied that Mrs. Merrick had told about my going early,—watches seemed so very uncertain, and so many of them had stopped at nine o'clock. It was only by a chance overhearing that I knew when it was half-past ten. I lost just a few minutes then, manoeuvring,—for I did not want "everybody" to see me to the carriage; but when I had vanished into the house, and found Mrs. Merrick, Miss Bird was not there. She had gone home an hour before, her head being worse, they said.'
Mr. Falkirk said nothing, but his thick brows grew together again.
'Mrs. Merrick said it was not the least matter; her coachman unfortunately was sick, but fifty people would be only too happy. I said everybody but me wished to stay late,—O, no, not at all!—here was Mr. May, going in five minutes, with his sister. They would be "delighted". I could not well tell her, sir,' said Wych Hazel, with a look at her guardian, 'all that occurred to me in the connection, but I suppose I negatived Mr. May in my face, for Mrs. Merrick went on. "Mr. Morton, then,—the most luxurious coach in the county." He too was going at once—if I did. Or, if I did not mind the walk, her brother-in-law would take charge of me at any moment with pleasure.'
Certainly Mr. Falkirk outdid himself in scowling, at this point.
'Well—I must get home somehow,' she said with another glance,— 'and the coach would never do, and the phaeton was tabooed. But I knew Mrs. Merrick's sister was Mrs. Blake; and so, thinking of the old doctor, I said at once that I would walk, and ran upstairs for my cloak. And then I found out,' said Wych Hazel slowly, 'that the are two sorts of brothers-in- law.'
Nobody interrupted her, nor spoke when she paused. The little room was very still, except from the movements the girl made herself.
'This was the wrong one. No old doctor Blake at all, but a younger brother of Gen. Merrick. What could I do?' she said, with a half appealing look that went for a second further than her guardian. 'Already my promise was in peril; and there was Mr. Morton beseeching me into his coach—and I could not get up a fuss.' It was very pretty and characteristic, the unconscious way in which she brought in—and left out—the third one in the room. Sometimes forgetting everybody but her guardian, and giving him details that were plainly meant for his ears alone; then, with a sudden blush and stop, remembering that there was another listener standing by. On such occasions she would generally turn her face a little more away and out of sight, and then begin again, in a tone that meant to keep clear of all further special confidences in that direction. The third member of the party stood perfectly still and made no remark whatever.
'Well?' said Mr. Falkirk, with rather a short breath, as the girl paused.
'There was nothing left for me but the walk—unless a fuss, and a half dozen more standing round. Then Mr. Morton said he should walk, too, at least as far as the cross-road, and let the carriage follow at a foot pace in case I should turn weary. If he had been half as anxious about my weariness as he professed,' said the girl, with a curl of her lips, 'he would have tried how fast his horses could go for once, with him behind them. But I could not tell him that any plainer than I did.'
'You tried to make him drive and leave you?' said Mr. Falkirk.
'I tried to make him let me alone, sir,' said the girl flushing. 'As to the way, I made no suggestions. So we walked on, and Mr. Morton made himself exceedingly—disagreeable.'
'Too officious? Or too presumptuous? He's an ass!' said Mr.Falkirk, who was plainly getting restive. 'Which, Hazel?'
'Unbearable I called it, sir. I was in no mood for nice definitions. And I couldn't have been tiredthenif we had walked through the moonlight straight on to the moon! But—I had been lectured so much about self-control' (an invisible glance went here) 'that, somehow, he seemed to keep his patience the better, the more I lost mine. I never remember your telling me, sir, that my wilful moods were particularly becoming, but I began to think it must be so; and actually thought of trying a little complaisance.' Whereat, Miss Hazel brought herself to a sudden stop.
'My dear!' said Mr. Falkirk. 'What was the other man about?'
'He was walking on the other side,' said Hazel, her voice changing. 'But he left me to Mr. Morton, in effect, and scarcely said three words all this time. I trusted his thoughts were too busy with Miss Powder, to notice what went on near by.'
'This is what comes of what you erroneously term dancing on the branches of trees!' said Mr. Falkirk, in a great state of disgust. 'But I have no idea I should have gone to that woman's if I had been free. More comes of it than I reckoned upon, or than six weeks will see me through. Well, you got rid of him at last, I suppose; and walked all the way to Dr. Maryland's in your slippers!'
'My dear Mr. Falkirk!—slippers at an out-door party! Yes, I "got rid of him," as you say, when we reached the turning to Morton Hollow,' Hazel went on, rather slowly, the shadow coming into her tone again. 'And then, after that, I found out why my other companion had been so silent.'
'Found out! He had not been taking too much?'
'I told you the supper tables stood ready all the evening,' said the girl, sinking her voice; 'and—it was plain—now—what he had found there.'
The silence now, rather than any words, bade her go on. She caught her breath a little, mastering her excitement.
'I knew, presently, what I must do. And when. You have told me, sir, sometimes, that I was too hasty to resolve and to do,—I had to be both now.'
'What did you do?' said her guardian.
'I must get away. And on the instant. For, just beyond, the woods ceased, and there was a long stretch of open road. I thought, in that second, that my cloak might be caught. So, with my free hand I unfastened it—I don't know how I ever did it!' said the girl, excitedly, 'unless, as Byo says, mamma's prayers were round me!—but I slipped the cloak from my shoulders and tore away my other hand, and sprang into the woods.'
They could almost hear her heart beat, as she sat there.
'Into the woods alone!' cried Mr. Falkirk. 'Then—Go on, my dear,' he said, his voice falling into great gentleness.
'Things came so fast upon me then!' she said with a shiver. 'I had said, in that moment, "I can but try,"—and now I felt that if you try—some things—you must succeed. To fail, then, would be just a game of hide-and-seek. That was the first thought. I must keep ahead, if it killed me. And then—instantly—I knew that to do that I must not run!'—
'Whatdidyou do?' said Mr. Falkirk.
'I might not be the fastest; and, if I ran, I should maybe not know just where—he—was,—nor when the pursuit was given up. I must pass from shadow to shadow; moving only when he moved; keeping close watch; until he got tired and went back.'
Hazel leaned her head on her hands, as if the mere recollection were all she could bear.
'My dear!—exclaimed Mr. Falkirk. 'Did you keep up the game long?'
'I do not know, sir,' she said, wearily; 'it seemed—' she stopped short,—then went on:
'I knew my dress was dark enough to pass notice; and as softly as I could I rolled up my white cloak and took off my gloves, lest any chance light might fall on them. My steps were steady—the others not: so far I had the advantage. Several times I heard my name—I think the surprise must have sobered him a little, for he called to me that that was not the road. But how long it went on, I cannot tell.'
'Till he gave it up?'
'Yes. At last, I saw him go back to the road, and heard his tread there, turning back the way we had come. Past me. And again I had to wait. Only I crept to the edge of the trees, where I could see far down the moonlight, and watch the one moving shadow there, that it did not turn off again among the shadows where I stood. And then I began to think I could not go on towards home along that open stretch before me,—for at least a mile there were only fields and fences on either hand. I had noticed it when we drove along in the evening. I could not go back towards Mrs. Merrick's. Then I remembered, in my ride upon Vixen, finding a short cut from this road to one from Dr. Maryland's. And I thought if I could once get to that, I should find unbroken woodland, where I could pass along unseen. For that, however, I must cross the road—in the full, clear light. And what that was!—'
'But I went safe,' she began again, 'and reached the shadows on the other side before there came sounds upon the road once more, and the full stream of late people began to come rattling down from Merricksdale.'
'Yes!'—Mr. Falkirk's word was rather breathless.
'At first, when I saw the first carriage, I thought I would speak and claim protection. But that held only men. And then came others on foot—and some that I knew. And it seemed to me, that instead of speaking I almost shrank into a shadow myself. And when there came a little interval, so that I dared move, I sprang away again, and went through the woods as fast as I could go, and go softly. The belt is not broad there, I suppose,' she said after another pause; 'and I reached the other road and went on while in the darkness, along the edge. But I think by this time I must have been tired, I grew so suddenly trembling and unsteady. And the night was so still, and yet I seemed to hear steps everywhere. I could not bear it any longer; and I thought I would just be quiet and wait for the day. Only—so far my wits served me yet—I must once more cross the road; for the moon was sinking westward now, and the level rays came in about my feet.'
'I thought I could not do it at first,' she said, with a voice that told more than the words,—'go out into that stream of light; but then I did; and hid myself in the branches of a great hemlock, and waited there.'
'And then I found Mr. Rollo,—and I knew that I might trust him.'
With which most unconscious full-sized compliment, the girl crossed her arms upon her lap, and laid her face down upon them, and was still.
'How did she found you?' demanded Mr. Falkirk with unceremonious energy. The answer was in an undertone:
'I found her.'
Mr. Falkirk was silent again.
'No,' said Wych Hazel, without raising her head, and again not stopping to measure her words. 'You would have stood there till this time, if I had not spoken!'
'Would I?' said Rollo.
'And how came you to be there at all at that time of night?' said Mr. Falkirk.
'On my way from the cars.'
'Cars, where?'
'Henderson.'
'Walk from Henderson!' said Mr. Falkirk.
'Save time. I wanted to be here to-day.' The answers were all short and grave, as a man speaks who has no words that he wants to say.
'And Mr. Rollo thought', said Hazel, looking up, 'that it was better for me to come home from Dr. Maryland's than from the woods. And—when he spoke of it—I supposed you would say that too, Mr. Falkirk.'
But Mr. Falkirk vouchsafed no corroboration of this opinion.
'Did I do well, sir?' she said a little eagerly, but meaning now the whole night's work. 'Did I do ill? Was I a bit like your old ideal—"a woman" and "brave"? Or was I only a girl, and very foolish?' They were so silent, these men!—it tried her. Did they, in their worldly wisdom, see any better way out of her hard places, than her seventeen years' inexperience had found, at such a cost? The brown eyes looked searchingly at Mr. Falkirk, and again for an instant went beyond him to Mr. Rollo.
'Answer, Mr. Falkirk!' said the younger man.
'My dear,' said Wych Hazel's guardian, 'if I had been a quarter as much a man as you have proved yourself a woman, your bravery never would have been so tried.'
'And the bravery was as much as the womanliness!' said the other, in the short, terse way of all his words this afternoon; no air of compliment whatever hanging about the words.
She answered with only a deep flush of pleasure, and eyes that went down now, and a smile just playing round the corners of her mouth—the first that had been there that afternoon. It may be remarked that there was no pleasure in either of the other faces.
'Who knows about this?' said Mr. Falkirk, suddenly.
'Nobody,' said Rollo.
'Not Miss Maryland?'
'I could answer for her; but she knows nothing.'
Wych Hazel looked up, listening. It was interesting to hear somebody else talk now. Talk was stayed, however. Both men were thinking; their thoughts did not run easily into spoken words. Or not while she was present; for after a sudden excursion up stairs to see what notes and messages might need attention, on returning she found the two deep in talk; Rollo seated near the head of Mr. Falkirk's couch, and bending towards him. He sprang up as Wych hazel came in and took leave; shaking Mr. Falkirk's hand cordially and then clasping Wych Hazel's. For the first time then a gleam of his usual gay humour broke on his lips and in his eye, as he said softly:
'I should have made you speak before that!'
Nothing but the most superb propriety was to be expected at Mrs. Powder's; nevertheless Wych Hazel went escorted by Prim and Rollo in Dr; Maryland's rockaway. Dr. Maryland himself had been persuaded to the dinner, and it was on his arm Miss Kennedy made her entrance upon the company. Something unlike anything the doctor had ever taken charge of before,—in a dress of tea-rose colour this time, and with only tea-roses for trimming.
It was not a large company assembled for dinner, though everybody was expected in the evening. This was a different affair from Merricksdale; on old proud family name in the mistress of the mansion; old fashioned respectability and modern fashion commingled in the house and entertainment; the dinner party very strictly chosen. Beyond that fact, it was not perhaps remarkable. After dinner Dr. Maryland went home; and gayer and younger began to pour in. Following close upon Mrs. Merrick's entertainment, this evening too had the adornment of the full moon; and as this party also was an out- door one, as much as people chose to have it so, the adornment was material. A large pleasure ground around the house, half garden, half shrubbery, was open to promenaders; and at certain points there were lights and seats and music and refreshments; the last two not necessarily together. On this pleasure ground opened the windows of the drawing room and to this led the steps of the piazza; and so it came to pass in the course of the evening that the house was pretty well deserted of all but the elderly part of the guests.
In this state of things, said elderly portion of the company might as well be at home for all the care they are able to bestow on the younger. Wandering in shadow and light, in and out through the winding walks, blending in groups and scattered in couples, the young friends of Mrs. Powder did pretty much as they pleased. But one thing Wych Hazel had cause to suspect as the evening wore on, that though her guardian proper was fast at-home, she had an active actual guardian much nearer to her, and in fact never very far off for long at a time. Indeed he paraded no attentions, either before Wych Hazel's eyes or the eyes of the public; but if she wanted anything, Rollo found it out; if she needed anything, he was at hand to give it. His care did not burden her, nor make itself at all conspicuous to other people; nevertheless she surely could not but be conscious of it. This by the way.
Dr. Maryland had not been gone long; the new arrivals were just pouring in; when a seat beside Wych Hazel was taken by Mr. Nightingale.
'You were at Merricksdale the other night?' he said after the first compliments.
'Yes, for a while.'
'I knew you would be. I was in despair that I could not get there;—but engagements—contretemps—held us fast. I see now how much I lost.'
'Then you are released from imaginary evils,—that must be a comfort.'
'Do you know,' said Stuart, 'I think the toilet is a fine art?'
She did not answer, looking at two or three somewhat remarkable specimens of the art that just then swept by.
'Who is Miss Fisher, Mr. Nightingale?' she asked suddenly.
'O don't you know Kitty? To be sure, she has just come.'
'No, I do not know her. May I know who she is?'
'Not to know her, argues—Well, it isn't so extreme a case as that. Miss Fisher, for character, is the most amiable of persons; for accomplishments, she can do everything; for connections, (do you always want to know people's connections?) she is a niece, I believe, of Dr. Maryland's.'
'Of Dr. Maryland's!—O that is good,' said Wych Hazel. 'Is she like Primrose?'
'She is more—like—a purple snap dragon,' said Stuart, reflectively. 'Do you read characters in flowers? and then look out for their moral prototypes in the social world?'
'I do not believe I ever had the credit of "looking out" for anything!—Good evening, Mr. Simms.'
' "It was the witching hour of night!" '—quoted Mr. Simms with a deprecating gesture. 'Really, Miss Kennedy, I do not see why the story books make it out such a misfortune for a man to be turned to stone. I think, in some circumstances, it is surely the best thing that can happen to him. There is Nightingale, now—he would feel no end better for a slight infusion of silica!'—and with another profound reverence, Mr. Simms moved off.
'I should like to see the philosopher that would make an infusion of silica!' muttered Stuart. 'He'snever drunk it. What is the use of poets in the world, Miss Kennedy?'
'To furnish people with quotations—as a general thing,' saidWych Hazel.
'Precisely my idea. And that's stupid, for people don't want them. It looks bright out among Mrs. Powder's bushes—shall we go and try how it feels?'
It was pretty, and pleasant. Moonlight and lamps do make a witching world of it; and under the various lights flitted such a multitude of gay creatures that Mr. Falkirk's favourite allusion to Enchanted ground would have been more than usually appropriate. All the colours in the rainbow, gleaming by turns in all possible alternations and degrees of light and shadow; a moving kaleidoscope of humanity; the eye at least was entertained. And Stuart endeavoured to find entertainment for the ear of his companion. They wandered up and down, in and out; not meeting many people; in the changing lights it was easy to miss anybody at pleasure. In the course of the walk Stuart begged for a ride with Miss Kennedy, again negatived on the plea that Miss Kennedy's horses were not yet come. Stuart immediately besought to be allowed to supply that want for the occasion. His aunt had a nice little Canadian pony.
'I cannot tell,' said Wych Hazel, gaily. 'You know I must askMr. Falkirk.'
'You do not mean that?' said Stuart.
'Why of course I mean it.'
'Is it possible you are in such bondage? But by the way, there is going to be some singing presently, which I think you will like. I have been counting upon it for you.'
'Is there?' she said,—'where? You are right in the fact, Mr. Nightingale, but quite wrong as to terms. I mean, the terms give a false impression of the fact. Where is the music to be, Mr. Rollo?' For Rollo, prowling about in the shrubbery, had at the moment joined them. He answered rather absently, that he believed it was to be in the garden.
'Do you understand, Mr. Nightingale?'—Wych Hazel resumed, turning to her other companion—'that is a mistake.'
'Can you prove it? But apropos, I am right in supposing that you are fond of music? That is true, isn't it?'
'Very true!'—But she was thinking.—'Mr. Rollo, how can you always say what you mean, without saying what you do not mean?' she asked suddenly.
'Choose your audience,' said Rollo.
'I like to say what I mean to anybody!'
'It is a great luxury. But the corresponding luxury of being understood, is not always at command. Have you been puzzling Mr. Nightingale?' he asked in an amused voice.
'Only presenting my ideas wrong end first, as usual. Is MissFisher here to-night?—and do you like her, Mr. Rollo?'
'Miss Fisher?—Kitty?—I have not seen her since I came home from Europe. But there is Prim. I must go and take care of her.'
He disappeared. The walk and talk of the two others was prolonged, until faint sweet notes of wind instruments from afar called them to join the rest of the world.
There was quite a little company gathered at this point, a small clearing in the shrubbery around one side of which seats were placed. Here the music lovers (and some others) were ranged, in a tiny semi-circle, half in shadow, half in light, as the lamps and moonbeams served. The light came clear upon half the little spot of greensward; glittering on leaves and branches beyond, glanced on the tops of trees higher up. A lively chitter-chatter was going on, after the fashion of such companies, when Wych Hazel came up, but a moment after the first notes of the music struck their ears, and all was as hushed as the moonlight itself. Only the notes of the harmony floated in and out through the trees; nothing else moved.
Mrs. Powder had managed to secure some good musical talent, for the performance was of excellent quality. Perhaps summer air and moonbeams helped the effect. At any rate, the first performance, a duet between a flute and a violin, was undoubtedly listened to; and that is saying much. The performers were out of sight. Then a fine soprano voice followed, in a favourite opera air.
Wych Hazel was seated near one end of the semi-circle, with Primrose just behind her; both of them in shadow. Rollo had been standing in the full light just before them; but during the singing he was beckoned away and the spot was clear. In two minutes more Stuart Nightingale had brought a camp chair to Wych Hazel's side. He was quiet till the song was over and the little gratified buzz of voices began. Under this cover he spoke low—
'Have youtwoguardians, Miss Kennedy?'
'One has answered all my purposes hitherto,' she answered with a laugh. 'Do I seem to need another?'
'Seem tohaveanother. Pardon me. Do you like to be taken care of?' He spoke in her own tone.
'By myself—best! If I must speak the truth.'
'Ah, I thought so! who else can do it so well? A fine woman needs no other control than her own. Am I to be disappointed of that ride?' He was speaking very softly.
'Well, I will prefer my request,' said Hazel. 'I wish I could say yes, at once. But how shall I let you now?'
Prim's hand touched her shoulder at this instant, for delicious notes of two voices stole upon the air from the hiding place of Mrs. Powder's troup. The lady's voice they had heard before; it was one of great power and training, and it came now mingling with a sweet full bass voice. There was no more talking until the music ended. It was a fine bit from a German opera.
'How do you like that?' Stuart asked.
Hazel drew a deep breath. 'Can you tell how you like things?' she said.
'Yes!' said Stuart. 'After we get that ride I am talking of, I'll tell you how I liked it. By the way, I will do myself the honour to be the receiver of your answer concerning it. Butthispleasure—no,—yes, Idoknow why I enjoy it; but it is not because the voices are fine or the music expressive. Can you guess?'
'Notfor the music, andnotfor the voices!' said the girl looking at him.
'A puzzle, isn't it?' said Stuart. 'No; the music expresses nothing to me—this sort of music; and voices are voices—but—I care only for voices that I know.'
Another little word of warning from Prim behind her,—'O Hazel, listen!'—prevented any reply; and Stuart's 'Yes, this is something, now,'—made it unnecessary. And the singing would have made it impossible. A man's voice alone; the same rich, full, sweet bass; in the ballad of the "Three Fishers." Whether Mr. Nightingale had divined that somebody was near who knew Wych Hazel, or merely acted on general prudential motives, he left his seat and stood a little apart while the ballad was sung.
'Do you like that?' Primrose whispered.
'The voice—not the ballad.'
'Nor I either,' said Prim. 'I don't see what he sings it for.'
There was but a moment's interval, and then the same voice began another strain, so noble, so deep, so thrilling, that every breath was held till it had done. The power of the voice came out in this strain; the notes were wild, pleading, agonizing, yet with slow, sweet human melody. The air thrilled with them; they seemed to float off and lose themselves through the woods; sadly, grandly, the song breathed and fell and ceased. Wych Hazel did not speak nor stir, nor look, except on the ground, even when the last notes had died away. Only her little hands held each other very close, her cheeks resting on them.
'Yes, I know,' said Primrose softly. 'That is Handel.'
Stuart Nightingale presently slid back to his seat; and now there came a stir; the music was discontinued. In a few minutes Rollo came bringing refreshments; Mr. Nightingale bestirred himself in the same cause; and presently they were all eating ices and fruits. At which juncture Miss Josephine joined herself to the party, with one or two of her sort, while several gentlemen began to "fall in," behind Miss Kennedy.
'Did you have a good time at Merricksdale?' Josephine asked.
'Not better than usual,' Hazel answered.
'Danced, didn't you? I wanted mamma to have dancing to-night, and she wouldn't. She's so awfully slow! O Mr. Rollo, do you like dancing?'
'On anything but my own feet,' said Rollo.
'Anything but your own feet? Howcanyou dance on anything but your own feet?'
'My horse's feet? Or what do you think of a good yacht and a good breeze?'
'Horrid! I never want to be in one. Anddon'tyou like dancing? O why? Don't you, Miss Kennedy? don't you, Mr. Nightingale?'
'Depends on the dance,' said Stuart. 'And on my partner.'
'O it don't signify what partner you have. In fact, you dance with everybody, you know. That is the best fun. Don't you like the German, Miss Kennedy?'
'Not with everybody,' said Miss Kennedy, thinking of possible partners.
'O but you must, you know, in the German—and that's the fun. I don't think anything elseisfun. Of course the people are all proper. Don't you like the German, Mr. Rollo?'
'I do not dance it.'
'Not?Don't you? O why? You do dance, I know, for I've seen you; you waltz like a German, a man, I mean. Why don't you dance the German?'
'How does a German—a man, I mean—waltz, Miss Phinney? as distinguished from other nationalities?' Stuart asked.
'O, different.'
'Wont you tell us in what way? This is interesting.'
'It wont help you,' said Josephine; 'and you dance well, besides. A German waltzes slow and elegantly.'
'And other people?'—
'You may laugh, but it's true; I've noticed it. An Englishman sways and a Frenchman spins, but a German floats. O it's just delicious! Why dont you dance the German, Dane Rollo? You're not pious.'
Rollo did not join in the general smile. He answered composedly—
'What I would not let my sister do, Miss Josephine, I am bound not to ask of another lady.'
'Why wouldn't you let your sister? You haven't got one, and don't know. But that's being awfully strict. I had no idea you were so strict. I thought you were jolly.'
'Could you hinder your sister?' Stuart asked with a slight laugh. The answer was, however, unhesitating.
'Why would you hinder her?' repeated Josephine.
'Ask Kitty Fisher.'
'Kitty? Doessheknow? And why shouldn't you tell us as well as her?'
Rollo took Miss Kennedy's plate at the instant and went off with it.
'That's all bosh,' said Josephine. 'I like people that are jolly. The German is real jolly. Last week we danced it with candles—it was splendid fun.'
'Not here?' said one of the gentlemen.
'Here? No. You bet. My mother is my mother, and nobody ever charged her with being jolly, I suppose.'
'How could you dance with candles?' said Primrose's astonished voice.
'Yes. Six of us had great long wax candles, lighted; and we stood up on a chair.'
'Six of you on a chair!'
'The old question of the schoolmen!'—cried Nightingale, bursting into a laugh.
'Of course on six chairs, I mean. Of course. Six of us on a chair!'—
'But what did you get on chairs for?'
'Why!—then the gentlemen danced round us, and at the signal— the leader gave the signal—the gentlemen jumped up as high as they could and tried to blow out our lights; and they had to keep step and jump; and if any gentleman could blow out the candle nearest him he could dance with that lady. Didn't we make them jump, though! We held our candles up so high, you know, they could not get at them. Unless we liked somebody and wanted him for a partner. O we had a royal time!'
'Did the gentlemen dance—and blow—indiscriminately?' inquiredMiss Kennedy with a curl of her lips.
'No, no!—how you do tell things, Josephine!' said Miss Burr. 'Two gentlemen for each chair,—and whichever of the two put the candle out, he danced with the lady.'
'Kitty had four or five round her chair'—said Josephine.
'And couldn't the lady help herself?' inquired Primrose, in a tone of voice which called forth a universal burst of laughter.
'Why wedid,' said Josephine. 'If you don't like a man, you hold the candle up out of his reach.'
'You couldn't baffle everybody so,' remarked Mr. Kingsland. Several gentlemen had come up during the talk, closing in round Miss Kennedy.
'Mr. Rollo is right about one thing,' said Miss Burr; 'nobody has seen the German who has not seen it led by Kitty Fisher. You should see her dance it, Miss Kennedy.'
'Yes, you should,' echoed Mr. May, 'I had rather look on than be in it, for my part.'
'What do you think she did at Catskill the other day?' said Miss Burr. 'She took a piece of ice between her teeth, and went round the piazza asking all the gentlemen to take a bite.'
'Clever Kitty! She'll work that up into a new figure—see if she dont,'—said Mr. Kingsland.
'To be called thenoli me tangere!' said Mr. May. 'Partners secured at the melting point.' The other gentlemen laughed.
'I see you and Kitty are at swords' points yet,' said MissBurr.
'No,' put in Rollo—'she likes a foil better than a rapier.'
'Certainly it does not sound as if she was like you,Primrose,' observed Wych Hazel.
'Like Miss Maryland!—Hardly,' said Mr. May. 'Nor like any one your thoughts could even imagine,' he added softly.
It was growing late now, and the moon gradually passing along behind the trees, found a clear space at this point, and looked down full at the little party to see what they were about. Just then, from the distance, came a stir and a murmur and sound of laughing voices.
'She's coming this minute!' said Mr. Kingsland. ' "Talk about angels"!—Your curiosity will soon be fed, Miss Kennedy,—and may, perchance, like other things, grow by what it feeds on. Here comes the redoubtable Kitty herself!—Miss Fisher!—my poor eyes have seen nothing since they last beheld you!'
'Don't see much in ordinary,' said a gay voice; and a young lady,—too young, alas, for the part she was playing!—swept into the circle. A very handsome girl, with a coronet of fair hair, from which strayed braids and curls and crinkles and puffs and bands and flowers and ribbands; her dress in the extremest extremity of the fashion, very long, very low; with puffs and poufs innumerable; the whole borne up by the highest and minutest pair of heels that ever a beguiling shoemaker sent forth. She nodded, laughing, and held out her hands right and left.
'How d'ye do, Stephen?—Mr. Richard May!'—with a profound reverence. 'And if there isn't our Norwegian back again! Glad to see you, Mr. Rollo. Have you leaned how to spell your name yet?'
But to this lady Rollo gave one of his Spanish salutations; while Phinny Powder jumped up and exclaimed with pleasure, and Primrose uttered from behind them her quiet 'how d'ye do Kitty?' Wych Hazel on her part had risen too—drawing a little back from the front, in the sudden desire for a distant view first.
'I see,' Miss Fisher went on, speaking to Rollo.—'The e in the middle as usual, and the i and the g to keep it there. Why, Prim, my dear child!—you here? Among all these black coats of unclerical order?—How do you do?'—with an embrace. 'And how is my uncle?—But where is Miss Kennedy? I am dying to see Miss Kennedy!—and they told me she was here.'
'The time to die is—afteryou have seen Miss Kennedy,' saidMr. Kingsland.
'To my face!' said Kitty. 'Well!—That is she, I know, behindMr. May. Introduce us Richard, please.'
Mr. May stepped aside, and with extreme formality presented Miss Fisher to the lady of Chickaree. Kitty touched hands,—and paused, forgetting to take her own away. The young 'unwonted' face was certainly a novelty to her. And a surprise.
'We shall all be jealous of her for her little mouth,' was her first remark. 'Don't everybody generally kiss you, child, that comes near enough?'
Wych Hazel withdrew her hand, stepping back again in her astonishment, and surveying Miss Fisher.
'People do not—generally—come near enough,' she said, as well as it could be said.
There was a little round of applause from the gentlemen at that. Kitty Fisher nodded, not at all displeased.
'She'll do,' she said. 'I was afraid she was nothing but a milksop,—all strawberries and cream. I vow she's handsome!'
'Handsome is that handsome does,' said Rollo. 'Miss Kitty, will you sit down and take things calmly?'—offering a chair.
'Yes, I'll take the chair; and Miss Kennedy and I'll divide the civil speech between us,' said Kitty Fisher, placing herself close by Hazel. 'It's awfully nice here. What are you all about?'
'Just unable to get on for want of Miss Fisher,' said Stuart.'Calling for you, in fact.'
'Echo answering "Where?" and all that,' said Kitty.
'Not at all. Echo said you were coming.'
'No dancing to-night?—awfully slow, isn't it? Beg pardon, Phinny; but you think just so yourself. Go off and start up the band into a waltz, and we'll have it out before the old lady gets the idea into her head. Come?'
Phinny started off on the instant with such energy and goodwill to her errand, that in a few minutes the burst of a waltz air in the immediate neighbourhood of the parties requiring it, said that Miss Josephine had been successful. And she said it herself.
'There!' she exclaimed; 'we've got it. Mamma'll never care, if she hears, nor know, if she sees. Come! Here are enough of us.'
One and another couple sailed off from the group. Stuart offered his hand to Wych Hazel. 'You waltz?' he said.
She gave hers readily. The music had put her on tiptoe. And presently the little green was full of flying footsteps and fluttering draperies. As many as there was room for took the ground; but there was good room, and the waltz was spirited. Some stood and looked on; some beat time with their feet. In a shadow of the corner where they had been talking, stood Prim and Rollo;notbeating time. Prim put her hand on his arm, but neither spoke a word.
'Shall we take a tangent,—and finish our stroll?' whisperedStuart, when they had whirled round the circle several times.
'If you like,—one is ready for anything in such a night,' said Hazel gleefully. She had gone round much like a thistledown, with a child's face and movement of pleasure. So, suddenly and silently, as they were passing one of the alleys that led out from the little green, Stuart and his partner disappeared from the eyes of the spectators. It was certainly a pleasant night for a stroll. The light made such new combinations of old things, took and gave such new views; the pleasure of looking for them and finding them was ensnaring. Then the air was very sweet and soft, and—so was Stuart's conversation.
Gliding on from one thing to another, even as their footsteps went,—mingling fun and fancy and common-place and flattery in a very agreeable sort ofpot-pourri,—so they followed down one alley of the shrubbery and up another; winding about and about, but keeping at a distance from other people. Until, much too soon for Stuart's intent, they were suddenly and quietly joined at a fork of the paths by Rollo, with Miss Fisher on his arm.
As the waltz ceased, Rollo had secured without difficulty the companionship of Miss Fisher for a walk; and Miss Fisher never knew how peculiar a walk it was, nor imagined that her cavalier was following a very fixed and definite purpose of his own. Nothing seemed less purposeful than the course they took; it was no course; from one path diverging into another, changing from one direction to another; a hunted hare would scarce make more doublings, or anything else, except the dog in chase of the hare. Kitty only knew that she was very well amused; her companion never left that doubtful, nor allowed her much leisure to make inconvenient observations; and, in short, Kitty did not care where they went!—and Rollo did care. So it fell out, that quite suddenly, and as much to his companion's surprise as anybody's, quite easily and naturally they stepped out of one walk into another just as Wych Hazel and her attendant came to the same spot.
'Your old proverbs are all stuff,' Kitty was saying to her companion. 'I do think she's the prettiest thing I ever saw. Only she don't know her tools. Just wait till I've had her in training a while!'
'Miss Kennedy,' said Rollo, 'how would you like to be in training?' They had somehow joined company with Stuart and Wych Hazel, not by the former's good will, but he could not manage to help it.
'I may as well reserve my views on that subject for somebody who wants to try,' said the girl, with a laugh. She had not heard Kitty Fisher.
'On what point just now do you think you need it?'
'I am in an extremely contented state of mind "just now," thank you, Mr. Rollo.'
'Miss Fisher would not think that proves anything.'
'Does Miss Kitty offer her services as trainer?' asked Stuart.
'Now just wait, both of you,' said Kitty Fisher, 'and let Miss Kennedy get used to me a little. She's awfully shocked, to begin with; and you're trying to make believe she'll never get over it.'
A slight gesture of Miss Kennedy's head, unseen by Miss Kitty, seemed to say that was extremely probable.
'You should let her get accustomed to you by degrees,' said Stuart. 'Hover about in the middle distance, suppose, without getting out of the range of vision—so that you may make your approaches to her heart through her eyes. That is an excellent way.'
'Is it?' said Kitty. 'You've tried all ways, I presume. But I notice that just now you seem to prefer the ear as a medium. Wouldn't she be splendid in the "Thread of Destiny," Stuart?'
'I should think so, if I were at the end of the thread!'
'You would not suppose it, Miss Kennedy,' said Rollo; 'but the "Thread of Destiny" is a silk ribband. The destiny is not therefore always silken.'
'Much you know about it!' said Kitty. 'I just wish I could see you thoroughly wound up for once, with Bell Powder and two or three other people.'
'Wych Hazel was growing rather weary of the talk. 'Who were the singers to-night, Mr. Nightingale?' she said, pitching her voice for his benefit alone.
'Really,' said he, in an answering tone, 'I am not musical enough to be certain about it. Voices in common speech I can understand and appreciate; but in this kind of manifestation— Mrs. Powder knows her business. She had secured the right sort of thing. The principal singer is a lady who has studied abroad; they are all visitors or dwellers in the neighbourhood. Did you like the performance?'
'Some of it; but the singing above all. You cannot understand that?'
'If you and Miss Kennedy want to whisper,' said Kitty Fisher, 'fall back a little, can't you, Mr. Nightingale? or turn down another path. It disturbs my own train of thought, this trying to hear what other people say.'
'Nobody would suspect Miss Fisher,' said Rollo, dryly, 'of being unwilling that anybody should hear whatshehas to say.'
'Do you know,' said Kitty, turning upon him with an emphasizing pressure of the arm she held, 'what my thoughts reallyareat work upon?'
'Yes.'
'Let's hear. Tell me, and I'll tell you.'
'I do not think,' said Rollo, slowly,—'it would be expedient.'
'Fudge! You know you couldn't. I have been trying to find out what so extremely sedate a person was after when he undertook to walk me round in the moonlight!'
And in defiance of everything, Wych Hazel's soft 'Ha! ha!' responded,—a little as if the question had perplexed her too.
'Have you had a good time?' said Rollo coolly.
'Very!—which makes it the more puzzling. Did Mr. Rollo ever walk with you in the moonlight, Miss Kennedy?'
'Yes.'
'Have a good time?' said Kitty.
The girl hesitated; but among her accomplishments the art of pretty fibs had not been included. The truth had to come out in some shape.
'So far as Mr. Rollo could make it,'—she said at last.
O how Kitty Fisher laughed! and the gentlemen both smiled.
'Why, that is capital!' she cried. 'I couldn't have done better myself!' Wych Hazel blushed painfully; but Rollo's answer was extremely unconcerned.
'I don't always give people a good time,' he said. 'You are fortunate, Miss Kitty. I am impelled to ask, in this connection, how long Mrs. Powder expects us to make our good times this evening?'
Upon comparing watches in the moonlight, it was found that the night was well on its way. There was nothing more to do but to go home.
On the way home, a little bit of talk occurred in the rockaway, which may be reported. Going along quietly in the bright moonlit road, Rollo driving, Primrose suddenly asked a question—
'Didn't you use to be a great waltzer, Duke?'
'A waltzer?—yes.'
'Then what made you not waltz to-night?'
Rollo leaned back against one side of the rockaway, and answered, while the old horse walked leisurely on—,
'I have looked at the subject from a new point of view, Prim.'
'Have you?—From what point of view, Duke?' said Primrose, much interested.
'I have made up my mind,' said Rollo slowly, 'I shall waltz no more,—except with the lady who will be my wife. And when I waltz with her,—she will waltz with nobody else!'
Prim sat back in her corner, and spoke not a word more.
'And how do you like your new neighbour, Prim?' said the young Dr. Maryland the first night of his return home. He had talked all tea-time to the collective family without once mentioning Miss Kennedy's name, and now put the question to his sister as they sat alone together in the twilight.
'O Arthur,verymuch.'
'You see a good deal of her?' was the next question, asked after a pause.
'Y—es,' said Primrose, doubtfully, 'At least, when I am with her I think I do; when I am away from her it seems little.'
'I must ride over there and call, to-morrow,' said Dr. Arthur.'Will you go too?'
And so it fell out that Dingee was summoned to the door next day to usher in the party.
'Yes'm, Miss Ma'land—Miss Hazel, she in, sure!—singin' to herself in de red room,'— and Dingee led the way.
It was a new room to most of the guests. A room that seemed two sides woodland and one side sunshine. Walls with deep crimson hangings, and carpets of the same hue; and quaint old carved oak chairs and tables, and a bookcase or two, and oaken shelves and brackets against the crimson of the walls. The morning had been cool enough, there at Chickaree, for a wood fire, though only the embers remained now; and in front of where the fire had been, sat the young mistress of the house half hid in a great arm-chair. Soft white folds fell all around her, and two small blue velvet slippers took their ease upon a footstool; with white laces giving their cobweb finish here, there and everywhere. A book was in her hand, and on her shoulder the grey kitten purred secure, in spite of the silky curls which now and then made puss into a pillow. Now and then. For while Miss Kennedy sometimes made believe to read, an sometimes really sang—pouring out scraps of song like a wild bird—yet in truth her attention was oftenest given to the great picture which hung in one recess. And then her head went down upon the grey kitten. Just now, when the visitors came in, she was searching for the notes of that last song at Mrs. Powder's; trying apparently, to catch it and bring it back; her girl's voice endeavouring to represent that which her girl's heart had never known.
The picture—I may describe it here—was that of a young man bound to a tree and pierced with arrows. No human witnesses in sight, except in the extreme distance; and over sky and earth no sunlight, but instead the deepening shadows of night. But the presence of the one was not noticed, nor the presence of the other missed. Away from earth, and lifted above suffering, the martyr's eyes looked to the opening clouds above his head, where were light, and heavenly messengers, and the palm- branch, and the crown. Something in the calm clear face checked Miss Kennedy's bursts of song as often as she turned that way—the high look so beyond her reach.
'What are you doing, Hazel?' said Prim's sweet voice.
'Puzzling,'—said Hazel, jumping up, and lifting one hand to support the kitten. 'Dr. Maryland, I am very glad to see you! O Prim, how happy you must be!'
'You didn't look in the least like a person in a puzzle,' said Primrose, after the first compliments were passed. 'What could you be puzzling about, dear?'
'That picture. It always puzzles me. And so when I get befogged over other things, I often come here and add this to the number.'
'You are hardly far enough on in your studies yet, Miss Kennedy, to understand that picture,' said Dr. Arthur, who was considering it very intently himself.
'My studies! Painting, do you mean? Or what do you mean?' saidWych Hazel.
'What does the picture say to you, Miss Kennedy?'
'That is just what I cannot find out,' said Hazel, jumping up again and coming to stand at his side. 'I cannot read it a bit.'
'You have not learned the characters in which it is written, yet,' said Dr. Arthur, with a glance at her.
'She had not learned much,' said Primrose, smiling.
'Canyouread it?' said Hazel, facing round.
'Why yes, Hazel.'
'Well,' said the girl, half impatiently, 'then how come I to be such an ignoramus?'
'There are some things,' said Dr. Arthur, with another swift look at his companion, 'which everybody can learn at once. But there are others, Miss Kennedy, which sometimes must wait until the Lord himself sets the lesson. I think this is one of those.'
'I shall ask your father,' said Hazel, decidedly. 'He always thinks I ought to knoweverythingat once.'
'Oh, Hazel, my dear, how can you say so?' cried Prim. 'Indeed, papa is never so unreasonable. And there he is this minute, and you can ask him.'
The long windows of the room looked upon a stretch of greensward spotted with trees. Coming across this bit of the grounds, Dr. Maryland and Rollo saw one of the windows open, and caught sight also of the party within. Even as Dr. Maryland's daughter spoke, they stepped upon the piazza and came into the room.
'That is a picture of the loss of all things,' Dr. Arthur was saying. 'How would you be able to understand?' But then he stepped back, and left the explanation in other hands.
' "The loss of all things!" ' Hazel repeated, bewildered. 'How do you do, Mr. Rollo?—Dr. Maryland, there is always some special reason why I am especially glad to see you!'
'What is the reason now, my dear?' said the doctor, with a very benign look on his face.
'These two people,' said Wych Hazel, with an airy gesture of her head towards her other guests, 'find me in a puzzle and push me further in. And I want to be pulled out.'
'In what direction shall I pull?' asked the doctor.
'Well, sir,—O Mr. Rollo, don't you want the cat?—I know you like cats,' said Hazel, 'and she is in my way.—It is only about my old picture here, Dr. Maryland, which they pretend to understand. Dr. Arthur says it means "the loss of all things,"—and that does not clear up my ideas in the least. Why must I "wait" to know what it means?' she added, linking her hands on the Doctor's arm, and raising her eager, vivid face to his. 'Prim says I "don't know much"—but I do not see why that should hinder my learning more.'