How strong the contrast with the martyr's face! how high and still and calm the look of him who had overcome! How tender, how open to sorrow, how susceptible of loss, that of the girl on whom as yet the rough winds had not blown! Dr. Arthur's eyes went soberly from one to the other. Rollo had taken the little cat from its position on its mistress's shoulder, and now stood with it established on his own, quietly and somewhat gravely attending to what was going on.
'What do you want to learn, my dear?' said Dr. Maryland, on his part gazing at the picture now.
'That picture always perplexes me,' said Hazel. 'What does it mean? And why do I love it so much, not knowing what it means?'
Standing and looking at the picture, Dr. Maryland answered in the words of Paul: ' "What mean ye to weep and to break mine heart? for I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus." '
'But papa,' said Primrose, 'that doesn't tell her what it means. Didn't Arthur say right—"The loss of all things"?'
'It means,' said Dr. Maryland,—'Human weakness and God's strength. Human emptiness and God's fulness. Earthly defeat and heavenly victory. How should you understand it, my dear, who have not begun the fight yet?'
'But then, papa, why does she love it so much?'
Dr. Maryland hesitated, and it was Rollo who answered:
'Because the fight isin her.'
'That's a queer way of putting it,' said Dr. Maryland; 'but perhaps it's true. I hope it is.'
The girl gave a swift look over her shoulder which it is to be hoped Mr. Rollo liked, as it was meant for him. So sparkling with the joy of being understood, so stirred with that sudden new life and purpose which appreciation wakes up in some natures. It was but an instant—then her eyes came back to Dr. Maryland, and were all quiet again.Hedid not think so, evidently. Which was right? Of what did he doubt her capable?
'Weakness,' 'emptiness,' 'defeat,' she said, recalling his words. 'Isthatwhat I am to find?'
'You do not think it possible,' said Dr. Maryland.
'How should she, papa?' said Primrose.
'Well, my dear, it is not possible she should. And yet, Hazel, these are the only way to find strength, fulness, and victory. It is a problem to you, my dear; only to be worked out.'
'Doesevery onework it out, papa?'
'No, my dear; two thirds of men never do. And so they go on forever saying, "Who will shew us any good?" '
'Hedid not find defeat,' said Hazel, looking at the martyr's face, and somehow forgetting the arrows and the cords.
'The story is,' said Dr. Maryland, 'that he was an officer, high in trust and command, in the service of the Emperor (Diocletian.). For owning himself a Christian, he was stripped of power and place, delivered into the will of his enemies, to be bound to a tree and shot to death with arrows. There is the human defeat, my dear Hazel. What you see in the face there, is the mental victory;—some of the struggle, too.'
' "Mental victory" '—she said half to herself, considering the words. 'I ought to be equal to that. Did you mean "defeat," Dr. Arthur, by "the loss of all things?" '
'No,' said Dr. Arthur, 'I meant anything but that. I meant nothing worse than the exchange of a handful of soiled paper for both the hands full of solid gold.'
'Ah you all talk such riddles!' said the girl, knitting her brows. 'What would it be to me, I mean? That I should lose Chickaree?—but that is impossible.'
'It was said,' Dr. Maryland answered,—'and the Lord said it— "Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot by my disciple." '
'Yes, sir, but—' she said quickly,—then checked herself.
'Well, my dear? My words will come best in answer to your questions, for then they can meet the very point of your difficulty.'
'You will not think me disrespectful, sir?—I was going to say,youdo not do that'—said Hazel, hesitating over her words. 'None of you. You have Prim and Dr. Arthur,—and Dr. Arthur comes home, and then Prim has her brother. And there is the pretty house, and books, and engravings. I don't know anything about Mr. Rollo, of course,' she said, correcting herself, 'but I mean the rest of you.'
'May we sit down?' said Dr. Maryland, 'Dane and I have walked up from Mr. Falkirk's. Unless Dane likes to stand to accommodate the cat!' said the doctor with a humourous glance at the shoulder where pussy sat with shut eyes, purring contentedly. 'It's a fair question, Hazel; and an easy mistake. But my dear, so far as I know, Prim and Arthur and I have not kept anything. For myself,' said Dr. Maryland, lifting up a bright face, 'all that I have is my Master's. I am not the owner even of myself. So long as his service bids me use the things entrusted to me in the way I am doing, I will use them so. And whenever his honour, or his work, calls me to give up anything or everything of all these—my home, my children, or my own life—I am ready; it is the Lord's now; he shall do with them all what he will. Do you understand?'
'And Arthur and I would say the same,' added Primrose.
Her brother answered in the words so long age written, so manytimes lived out. ' "Not a myself—but Christ; not a my will—butChrist. Not a mine ease, or my profit, or my pleasure, butChrist." '
The girl looked from one to the other, as each spoke, with a flash of sympathy; even as thoughts stir and kindle at the sound of a bugle call, while yet they know not what it says. But then she turned suddenly round and looked at Rollo. An expectant look, that waited for him to speak,—that gathered—or he fancied so—a shade of disappointment as it turned away again to the face on the wall. She sat silent, leaning her chin upon her hands. His look had been perfectly grave, thoughtful and quiet; but otherwise did not reveal itself. There was a general silence. Then Dr. Maryland said,
'Do you understand the paradox, my dear?'
'I think I must be the paradox myself,' Hazel answered with a half laugh. 'I could do that—I could bear the arrows: I think I could. But you never saw anybody, sir, that liked giving up— anything—less than I do.'
'You would rather bear the arrows than the cords,' said Dr.Arthur Maryland. 'It is easier.'
'Depends on the people,' said Primrose.
' "As having nothing, and yet possessing all things," ' Dr.Maryland added rather dreamily.
'I suppose,' said Rollo, with a moment's deep look into WychHazel's eyes, 'the free spirit is beyond bonds.'
'That is it, my boy!' exclaimed Dr. Maryland. 'Think—when Paul and Silas were in the dungeon at Philippi—a dreary place, most likely; and they, beaten and bleeding and sore, stretched and confined in the wooden frame which I suppose left them not one moment's ease,—at midnight it was, they fell to such singing and praising that the other prisoners waked up and listened to hear the song.'
Hazel crossed her slender wrists and sat looking at them, imagining the bonds.
'Do you think it is allin me?' she said, with another sudden appeal to Rollo.
Rollo was not a man fond of wearing his heart upon his sleeve. Another momentary glance went through her eyes, as it were, and was withdrawn, before he gave a short, grave 'yes.' Hazel went back to her musings without another word, and only the least bit of a triumphant curl about the corners of her mouth.
'I wonder how it would feel?' she said, crossing and uncrossing her hands.
'What?' said Primrose.
'Bonds—and chains,' said the girl, clasping her wrist tight.'To have my hands tied!'
'You are not called upon to find out, my dear,' said Dr. Maryland; 'that is not required of you. But remember, Hazel, no bonds are heavy but love wears.'
'Depends upon how they get on, sir,' she said, quickly.
'What?' said the doctor, with a somewhat comic twinkle coming into his eye. 'How is that?'
'I hate bonds, Dr. Maryland!—from the very bottom of my heart.'
'You have never worn the sort I spoke of, my dear,' he said, smiling. 'I never heard anybody complain of them.'
'What sort?' said Hazel. 'Bonds are bonds.'
'But love likes her bonds,' said the doctor.
The girl shook her head. 'She likes her way, sir! in my case. When Mr. Falkirk forbids me to—well, no matter what,—to do something,' she said, dropping her eyes, 'I do suppose I obey better than if I didn't love him. But I hate it all the same. It makes me feel—like my name,' she added with a laugh.
'Love likes her bonds,' the doctor repeated, shaking his head.
'And the arrow that is weighted flies freest against the wind,' Rollo remarked.
'What do you mean by that?' said Primrose. 'Duke, you look very funny with that cat upon your shoulder.'
'Pussy likes it,' said Rollo.
'Dane, have you finished your business with Hazel?' said Dr.Maryland. 'I must be going presently.'
'Well, sir,—if Prim and Arthur will excuse me.'
He brought himself, pussy cat and all, to a chair by WychHazel's side. The others drew off a little.
'I am going away,' he said. 'Business takes me to New York for a week or two. Possibly to Chicago; but I hope not. I hope to bring your horses back with me. Do you want to give me any directions respecting them?'
'Directions?—I think not. O yes!' said Hazel, touching her fingers to the cat's head and instantly withdrawing them,—'I want my pony to be very fast. Because——' but there she stopped.
'Well?' said he.
'That is all.'
'It is unfinished.'
'Cannot you do anything without knowing why?'
'Unbusinesslike. But I'll do my best.'
'Well,'—said Hazel, 'I told Mr. Falkirk.—Of course I like to go fast, for its own sake,—and then if I ever had to ride for my life!'—
It was spoken so demurely that only her cheeks betrayed her.Over their treason the girl grew impatient.
'I just want a fast horse. Don't you know what that means, without explanation?'
'Why no,' said he, probably enjoying his advantage though he held it after his usual undemonstrative fashion. Excepting that his eyes took a further advantage which none others ever did. No flattery in them, nor conventional deference, and nothing like Dr. Maryland's benign regard, or Mr. Falkirk's watchful one. Those eyes went down into hers with a sort of grave taking possession, or holding it; something more than benignity, and coming much nearer than watchfulness. Rollo's manner had often an indefinable tinge of the same expression. 'There are so many sorts of fast horses,' he went on. 'Do you want to run for your life? or canter? or trot?'
'Trot in ordinary—run upon occasion.'
'Is trotting your favourite gait?'
'It is more like the wind,' said Wych Hazel. 'I remember one good canter—but all the rest made one think of the snail that went forward three feet and back two.'
'You must have had an experience! I'll try and secure both for you; but I may not be able, just at first. Don't you want to take pussy in safe keeping again? I am afraid she would not approve of my further companionship.'
'Well—give her to me then,' she said, holding out her hands. He smiled a little at that, dislodged pussy and placed her in them, then rose up and offered his own.
A party of gentlemen came up the steps as Dr. Maryland and his companions went down. Clearly, the thoughtful time of the morning was at an end.
There come, sometimes, in certain lives, certain days and weeks which seem to be all adrift and beyond legislation. The people who might exercise control cannot; and the people will not who can; and so the hours sweep on in a rushing stream of events and consequences, which every now and then flings somebody upon the rocks. Or it may be, in very happy cases, only something;but until this is made sure the lookers-on feel anxious.
So felt Mr. Falkirk, a prisoner still with his lame ankle; so felt (probably) Mr. Rollo, called suddenly away by business a hundred miles off. So certainly felt Mrs. Bywank, watching her young lady with motherly eyes. But the young lady herself felt quite at ease, and as she had said, 'content.' Why not? With flowers by day and serenade by night; with game from every bag and trout from every hook; with cavaliers starting up out of greensward and woodland whenever she went out; with carriages and horsemen always at the door when she was at home. The serenades indeed were shared impartially with Mr. Falkirk and Gotham; for Wych Hazel still kept her room in the cottage, and was there by night. But the days were often spent in the house on the hill; and the distance between the two was often—to say the least—not made alone. The new saddle-horses had not yet arrived, and no others were countenanced by Mr. Falkirk; but such walks had their facilities, even without the possible indoor extensions which sometimes took place. And for evening purposes an equipage had been arranged which relieved Miss Kennedy of all dependence on her neighbours. Mr. Falkirk's prostrate condition prevented her giving any entertainments as yet; but she went everywhere, with Gotham—grim and trusty—upon the box; and more and more the days, as they went on, brought everybody to her feet. It was excellent fun! For it is really delightful to be liked; and admiring looks you cannot quite meet have yet their fascination, and the words you scarce hear have their charm. Altogether there was a strong flavour of enchantment abroad; and it seemed probable that the prince was somewhere. The princess had not seen him yet, that she knew of; but undoubtedly she was learning that some day she might. Yet Hazel took the knowledge in a pretty way. Too innately true to flirt, too warm-hearted to trifle, too real a woman to follow in the steps of Kitty Fisher; and, it may be said, thinking far too much of herself to descend from her vantage ground of feminine reserve. Perhaps there was no one thing which caught andheldher admirers like this: the real girlish dignity which made them keep their proper distance. The most unscrupulous of them all would as soon have dared anything as to venture (to her) an unauthorized touch, or a word that savoured of freedom. So far, she went safe through the fire. If she could have known, poor child, what sort of a fire it was; if her thoughts had even dimly imagined what men old in the world may be; no kid glove nor silken tissue would have been deemed thick enough to fend off the contact. But she knew nothing of all that, except by the instinct which now and then gave her a sudden sheer. As it was, she was intensely amused, and half out of her wits with fun and frolic and utter light heartedness; seeing no harm, imagining no evil; quite regardless of Mrs. Bywank's wise maxim that what men of sense disapprove, a woman—as a rule—had better not do. And for a while there were not men of sense at hand to give her counsel.
Mr. Falkirk looked on from too great a distance to point his strictures; Gotham's grumbles over the serenades and the cavaliers only helped the excitement. And since Mr. Falkirk would not let her fling her written thanks out of the window, thespokenthanks followed, as a matter of course, and effected quite as much.
And yet, you will say, no harm came, and everything was as it should be. Well, there are some who plunge through the mud ankle-deep; and there are others that got but over shoe; and here and there one that crosses on tiptoe; but you would rather that they all chose a better road. And intoxication is not a good thing, whatever may be the means thereto; and the sweet, fresh years of which Dr. Maryland had spoken, were quite too precious to be spun off to the music of Strauss, or wilted down by late hours, or given up wholly to hearing that Miss Kennedy was the one of all the world. Not so do natures enlarge and characters develop to their fairest proportions; not so do souls grow strong and noble for the coming work of life.
Kitty Fisher was not exactly jealous of all this—or had too much sense to shew it; but deep in her heart she did wish she could dismount Wych Hazel from her pedestal, that comparisons might be made on level ground. Kitty would not have been timid, for the world; and yet the shy blushes which came as freely as ever to Miss Kennedy's cheeks did somehow give her a pang. And while nothing could have bought off her daring speech and behaviour, she yet knew itwasa pretty thing to have the deference which always approached the young lady of Chickaree.
'I must get that out of her,' she said to herself. 'She's bound to give it up. Wait till I get her fairly into the German!'
And so far she succeeded. Miss Kennedy did get 'fairly in,'— but as yet the rest of the plan had failed. Hazel danced, and led, and followed, in the wildest gaiety, within certain limits; beyond them she would not go; meeting all Kitty Fisher's proposals with a look of incredulous disgust and surprise that generally cut short the business for that time. And gentlemen who stood by laughed and applauded; and if Hazel had known justwhythey clapped hands, and just what she was avoiding, she would have wanted to stand no longer in their neighbourhood just then.
Balls followed dinners, and one German came close on the heels of another, with pic-nics, boating parties, croquet parties, and open-air breakfasts; and everywhere the young queen held her court; with beauty, and grace, and money, and a faultless toilet.
Now in the selfishness of this self-seeking world, our interest in a thing, our judgment of it, does very much depend upon its connection with ourselves. Have we any shares in the field for sale?—if not, why, manage it as you will, sunshine and clouds are alike to us. But if we have, the interest of the matter changes at once, and we are blind no more.
Following upon sundry other festivities came a brilliant German at Mme. Lasalle's. Thither came everybody, in proper time; thither, rather late, and fresh-returned from his journey, came Mr. Rollo; and making his way easily along, through rooms ablaze with light and almost faint with flowers, he reached a point where 'The Thread of Destiny' was in full progress, tangling itself up about Wych Hazel. It was impossible not to make her the centre of the group, though six ladies stood there together; and about them all, one end of a long white ribband in his hand, danced Mr. Nightingale—not saying, exactly—
'I wind, I wind,Hoping my true love to find'—
but perhaps thinking it in his heart; for when coil after coil had gone round the blooming prisoners, and the white sheen came suddenly to an end at Wych Hazel, it was with very evident satisfaction that Mr. Nightingale took her hand and led her out—his partner by the thread of destiny.
Nothing could be prettier than she was through it all; neither giggling nor smirking, nor making remarks like Miss Powder and the rest; her lovely shoulders veiled beyond all reach of criticism, her eyes intent upon the ribband, her thoughts intent upon the game. So that when all came to a climax at her, she laughed right out—the merriest laugh of glee and satisfaction. Very pretty!—was it anything more? Do you (apart from dancing) give your daintiest possessions into common hands? Why, you will not let a servant even dust the china shepherdess on your mantel-piece!—but any hands that you know— and any that you don't know—may touch and clasp and support the young daughters and sisters of your love, and whirl them about the room, as you would not have your shepherdess treated for all the world.
Cajolements did not avail that evening to induce Mr. Rollo to dance; and they were tried. He was in what Wych Hazel might have called a very Spanish mood. Not to her; indeed he never approached her nor sought to interrupt the pretensions of those who crowded round her, courting her favour and worshipping her pleasure, and craving to be made ministers of the same. She was in a throng, and he did not try to penetrate it. Why he stayed so long was a mystery; for what is a German if you do not dance? He was not a mere idle spectator, nor idle at all, it is true; he made himself busy enough, taking elderly ladies to supper and serving younger ones with beef- tea; but those are not engrossing amusements. Mme. Lasalle declared he was very useful; and watched to see what it meant; but beyond that he could not be seen to look at anybody in particular, she could resolve herself of nothing. Certainly he took leave a little before Wych Hazel left the room; they were not together, the lady was sure.
When, however, a little later, that young lady came forth to her carriage, attended as usual by a retinue of servitors, a single figure was standing by her carriage door. He stood aside to let the devotees put Wych Hazel into the little rockaway which was her sole present equipage; but when the last words had been said and the last man stepped back, Rollo stood at the door before Dingee had time to shut it.
'Will you give me a seat as far as Mr. Falkirk's?' he said, looking in.
Now when you have not seen a person for six weeks or so, a request for a seat in your carriage is not generally the opening remark, and Wych Hazel paused in a sort of astonishment. Then another thing made her hesitate.
'If you will answer it to Mr. Falkirk,' she said. 'You know I am forbidden to give any one a seat in my carriage. Have you a special permit, Mr. Rollo?'
'I never ask for what I cannot have,' he said, jumping in. And then he offered her his hand. 'How do you do?'
'Very well. I should think that must make you an adept inPrim's beloved art of waiting,' said Wych Haze.
'If the lesson must be learnt, I would rather wait before asking. After that, I believe I do not know how to practise it. How do you feel about waiting for your horses?'
'Feeling is dead, and impatience is all tired out with hard work and want of sympathy. So it is pretty quiet just now.'
'Want of sympathy?' he said, inquiringly.
'Yes. I used to fume about it a little, but Mr. Falkirk only said "My dear," and a few other things of a cooing nature.'
'I believe I have brought you what you will like.'
'O, have you?' said the girl, with her musical intonations, and a degree of eagerness which spoke impatience in fair condition. 'You are very good to take so much trouble, Mr. Rollo! But I am more glad than you can imagine.'
'Then I am very glad,' said he. 'Will you trust me to drive you the rest of the way, if I displace Mr. Gotham? I share your infirmity of impatience sometimes.'
'An infirmity, you call it?—Well, displace anybody you like, but me,' said Wych Hazel, arranging herself in a small luxury of fatigue against the not too luxurious back of the rockaway. Her companion was silent a few minutes until the carriage passed out from the Moscheloo grounds and had gone a few rods; then he tapped Mr. Falkirk's factotum on the shoulder.
'Mr. Gotham,' said he, in tones of pleasant authority, 'I can't stand anybody's driving but my own to-night. Stop, if you please. You and Dingee may take a place with my man; my trap is just behind. Tell him to keep close and follow.'
'Sorry to do h'anything that looks un'ansome, sir,' said Gotham, swallowing his surprise with the adroitness of long practice, 'but I 'ave Miss 'Azel in charge, sir.'
'Youhad, my friend. I will relieve you. Come, jump out, and don't keep your young lady waiting.' The voice was of calm authority which most people understand and obey. And Wych Hazel laughed.
'I'm sure I can't say what Mr. Falkirk will think, sir!' said Gotham, in a displeased voice. ' 'Owever—I will h'assume it's h'all right, sir.—Though why he couldn't drive his h'own team, if he'd such an 'ankering for the ribbands,' he muttered to Dingee as he got down, 'I'm sure is a perplexity.'
'Wanted to drive Missee Hazel,' said Dingee, climbing like a cat into the other conveyance, and proceeding to drive Mr. Rollo's man nearly out of his wits. 'You never does sound de gen'lman, Mas' Gotham. Telled you so long ago.'
Having got his wish, Mr. Rollo drove regularly enough for a mile or two; till all carriages going their way had passed before or dropped behind or turned off, and they had the road entirely to themselves. The moon was riding high, and though an old moon, gave enough light to make driving a thing of no difficulty. Thus far Rollo had driven in comparative silence, with only a word or two occasionally to Wych Hazel. He had not removed himself by any means out of her companionship, but throwing himself sideways on the front seat of the carriage, looked sometimes out and sometimes in. Now, when the road was their own, and the old horse could find his way along with very little guiding, and the moonlight seemed to illuminate nothing so much as the stillness, Rollo turned his head and spoke.
'Miss Kennedy, do you like to have people come suing to you with petitions?'
'I think I might—if I could answer them myself,' she said, thinking of some that had been preferred that night. 'But when my yes or no depends on somebody else, it is rather stupid. One tires of a perpetual referee at one's back.'
'This depends on nobody but you. But I am rushing into the middle of things,' said Rollo, giving the old steed an intimation that he need not absolutely fall back upon walking. 'Miss Kennedy, I am coming to you with a great petition to- night—and I am too impatient to wait for it.'
'Mr. Rollo with a petition!' said Wych Hazel. 'And impatient!Well—then whydoeshe wait?'
His voice told well enough why he waited, at least in part; the earnestness of it was so blended with not a little anxiety and not a little tenderness. He spoke slowly.
'Miss Hazel,' he said, 'you have neither father nor mother nor brother nor sister. I am almost as much alone in the world. May I speak to you as one who knows what it means?'
' "It?"—being alone?' she said.
'Just that. Having no one near enough to care or dear enough to dare, what would be for your happiness. As it is so with you, and I know it, may I for once step into the gap, without being too severely punished by you for my venturing?'
'Why I thought you always ventured,—everything!' she said, stirring up now in her surprise.
'Then shall I make my petition? I never dared so much in my life as I am daring now.'
'Of course you may make it,' said Wych Hazel. 'As fast as you like. I shall begin to be impatient too.'
'If you choose to question me for my reasons, I will have the honour to give them. Or if you ask what right I have to move in the matter, I will answer that, too.'
'Beforehand?'
'Certainly. If you wish.'
'No matter,' she said, with a slight laugh which was yet a little disturbed. What was looming up behind this barricade of preliminaries? 'I thought you based your right just now— But never mind. Go on, please.'
He was silent nevertheless a minute, while the old horse came to an unchallenged slow walk. Then Rollo ungloved his right hand and held it out.
'I cannot see your face,' said he. 'Give me your hand, so thatI may know, while I hold it, that you are not displeased.'
'Why, Mr. Rollo?' said Hazel, with the same half laugh, 'you are very—extraordinary! It strikes me your one petition covers a good many. Must I take the glove off?—if you are to be indulged.'
'There!' said he, taking her hand in the same warm firm grasp she had known before. 'I am going to ask you to promise me something—that it will not be pleasant to promise. Miss Hazel'—speaking low and slowly—'do not dance round dances any more!'
The tone was low, also it was very earnest and very grave.
'What?' she said, in a sort of but half comprehending way. 'Why not? what is the matter with them? I am hardly the least bit tired.'
'You don't know!' he said, with a slight pressure of the hand he held. 'You don't know. This is why not, Miss Hazel—that I would not see my sister in them. Do you understand?'
'O yes,' she answered. 'I have seen people before who did not like dancing,—two or three, perhaps. But there is always somebody to dislike everything, I think. You do not enjoy it yourself, Mr. Rollo,—and so you do not know.'
'I have danced twenty dances where you have danced one. I know what they are made of. You only know how they look.'
'Hardly that,' said Wych Hazel. 'I know a little how they feel. I have never had an outside view, I believe.'
'Can you do me the great honour to take my view,—and my word for it?'
'If you liked flying to music as well as I do, you would take mine,' she said. 'Air is better than earth, when you can get it.'
'Do you think I would wish to interfere with your pleasure, or presume to interfere with your actions, without reasons so strong that I can hardly express their significance? Believe me, if you knew these round dances as well as I know them, you would never be mixed up in one of them any more.'
'Mixed up?' said Wych Hazel. 'Do you suppose I do all the wild things some people do, Mr. Rollo?'
'No,' he said; but he left his plea standing.
'Well then what is the matter? If ever you hear of my "exchanging hospitalities," I will give you leave for a lecture a mile long.'
'Your eyes are innocent eyes and do not see. Can you not trust me far enough to act upon my knowledge, and distrust yours?'
'But trusting you does not make me distrust myself,' she said. 'And even Prim confessed to me once that you do occasionally make mistakes.'
'I do not in this,' said he, very gravely. 'Yet there is no particular reason why you should believe me. Miss Kennedy—you cannot continue this pastime, and keep yourself.'
'What do you mean?' she said quickly.
'You cannot remain just what you are.'
'Mr. Falkirk thinks there is room for improvement,' said Wych Hazel, with some coldness; 'but your words seem to point the other way. Perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me at once all that you think it needful I should hear in the connexion.'
'You need not take that tone,' he said; 'but perhaps Imustdisplease you. Miss Kennedy, I have always thought of you as one who would never permit a liberty to be taken with her.'
'I am happy that we agree for once,' she said, with a lift of the eyebrows and a voice to match. 'It is precisely the way in which I have always thought of myself.'
'Follow that out!' said he half laughing, and at the same time clasping a little closer the hand he held.
'Well—I have followed it out all my life. I never do, Mr.Rollo.'
'Not knowingly. But— How shall I tell you!' said he, in a sort of despair. And the old horse found it was necessary for him to move on.
'It must be said!' he broke out again, 'and there is no one but me to do it. Miss Hazel, you allowed liberties to be taken with you to-night.'
The little hand he was holding shrank perceptibly. Not twitching itself away, but as it were withdrawing itself into itself, and away from him. Otherwise she sat absolutely still.
'Unconsciously,' he went on. 'You did not know it. The pleasure of the play kept you from knowing what it implied.'
'Allowed, did you say?'
'Look back and think,' said he, calmly.
'As if they could, without my knowing it!' she exclaimed. 'As if they would!'—
'Look back and think,' he said.
'Well,' said Wych Hazel, 'look back and think! And I find the most extreme deference, and—nothing else that touches the question.'
He drew a sort of short, impatient sigh, and waited a moment.Then leaned over towards her again and spoke slowly.
'Six weeks ago,' he said, 'two little hands would not come near enough to my shoulder to take the kitten from it. And I loved them for the distance they kept.'
The girl drew suddenly back, freeing her hand now with a swiftness that told of a deep hurt somewhere. For a moment she did not speak—then only a breathless—
'Well?'
'Is that displeasure?' he said.
'When have I shortened the distance?' But the words were defiant with pain, not anger. And Rollo on his part remained perfectly still and perfectly silent, not even seeming to know how the old horse was going to please himself.
Nothing could have been more still, outwardly, than the white- robed figure in the corner,—and nothing need be more inwardly tumultuous.
'If it was an open wagon,' she thought to herself, 'I should jump out—over the back or somewhere!' O this having men talk to one! And what was he talking about? and what had she done?— she who had done nothing! Except—'dance better than ever anybody danced before!' 'For the distance they kept'—and when did not her hands keep their distance from every one! How many times that very evening had she been voted 'cruel,' for refusing some favour which other girls granted freely? Mr. Rollo, too!—who had praised her 'womanliness'—But with that the womanish element prevailed, and there came a quiver of lip, and for an instant her hands were folded across her eyes. Then down again, to hold each other in order.
And yet her hand had been on twenty shoulders that evening, and twenty arms had encircled her!
There was an interval of some length.
'Miss Hazel,' said Rollo at length, and his voice was clear and manly, 'have I offended you?'
'No,'—under her breath. 'I—suppose not.'
'Do you want me to give, if I can, some justification of myself?'
'There is none. Except that you did not mean to say what you said.'
'I meant no justification of my words,' said he, gently but steadily. 'If you wantthat, it is, that they were spoken to save you from harm.'
'Ah!' she said with a half cry,—then checked herself. 'What else does Mr. Rollo wish to justify?'
'Only my right to speak them;—if you did, as you might,— question it.' He paused a little, and went on. 'I can give you only half of my plea, but half will do. It is, that your father and mother dearly loved mine.'
It was all Hazel could do to bear her mother's name just then. Her hands took a sudden grip of each other, but no answer came. Not for some time: then words low and softly spoken—
'I think I asked for no plea, Mr. Rollo.'
'Then if you are content with it,' said he, in a lighter tone, 'give me your hand once more, only for a moment this time.'
She hesitated—then held it out. He bent down and gave it a swift, earnest kiss; after which he turned his attention to his driving duties, for some time neglected, till Mr. Falkirk's cottage was gained. As he took Wych Hazel out of the carriage, he said,
'It's so late, if you don't forbid me, I am going up to my old friend, Mrs. Bywank, to ask her to give me lodging to-night.'
Hazel bowed her head in token that he might do as he pleased, giving no other reply. But it is safe to say that, by this time, ideas and thoughts and feelings and pain, and—'other things,' as she would have phrased it, were so inextricably mixed up in the girl's head, that she hardly knew which was which and which was not. She walked steadily in,—then gave about two springs to her brown corner room, and locked the door.
Mr. Falkirk was not disturbed that night with being told anything. But when the sun had risen fair and clear over the green world of Chickaree, and Gotham moved silently about the breakfast-table, Mr. Falkirk might notice from his sofa that but one cup and saucer stood on the tray, and but one plate near to bear it company. If Mr. Falkirk's nerves were not in order, they might have been tried; for Gotham certainly seemed to have borrowed the cat's shoes for the occasion.
'Why don't you set the table as usual?' came pretty peremptorily from the sofa.
'Miss 'Azel 'ave sent word she was h'asleep, sir,' saidGotham, with extra dignity.
'Then why don't you wait till she is awake, slowhead? as usual. It is not eight o'clock yet.'
'H'also that she 'as no h'intentions of h'ever waking h'up, sir.'
So Mr. Falkirk took his breakfast with a dissatisfied mind. For it is safe to say, he was so accustomed by this time to his gay little ward's company and ministrations, that coffee was not coffee without her. Gotham did his duty in a more than usually taciturn fashion, and Mr. Falkirk's breakfast was at an end before the factotum unburdened his mind.
'Beg pardon, sir,' he said, drawing himself up behind his master; 'but 'ow are your h'orders concerning Miss 'Azel to be h'understood, sir?'
'Orders?' said Mr. Falkirk.
'You distinctly said and h'indicated, sir, that I was to driveMis 'Azel to and from, sir,—if my mind serves me,' saidGotham.
'And if my mind serves me, you have driven her forty times.'
'Quite correct, sir,—and more,' said Gotham. 'The point h'is, Mr. Falkirk, what's to be done when young gents come taking the h'orders h'out of my very 'ands, sir?'
'Knock 'em down.'
'The first natural h'impulse, sir. But put a case that they're in the knockin' down style too?—then I'm left in the road, and Miss 'Azel without a protector.'
'Who's been knocking you down now, Gotham?'
'No one, sir;—I 'ope I know my business better,' said Gotham.'I speak of the h'inevitable. And Mr. Rollo would drive Miss'Azel 'ome last night, and she gave me no better h'assistancethan one of her laughs, sir.' Clearly it rang in his ears yet.
'You had better not meddle with what don't belong to you, my friend. If Miss Hazel had desiredyourassistance, it would have been time enough to give it to her.'
'Very good, sir,—h'all settled, sir,'—and Gotham carried off the tray with a face of mixed perplexity and wisdom that was funny to see. But the sunshine crept on through the little study, and it was well-nigh time to set the table again, before the door opened softly and Wych hazel came in: two exquisite roses in her cheeks, in her hand—by way of excuse—a basket of wonderful hot-house grapes. How glad she had been to take them from Dingee at the door.
'Well, my dear!' said Mr. Falkirk, with an accent of unmistakeable pleasure, and something behind it, 'you have slept long to-day. Were you home so late?'
'I suppose it was late, sir. I lost no time, and so took no note. How do you do to-day, Mr. Falkirk?'
'Able to move, I think. I shall get about in a day or two more.'
'Here are some grapes, sir, to hasten the cure.' She put the basket in his hand, and passed on to a low seat at the head of the sofa. Mr. Falkirk looked at them, and his tone changed to the accustomed growl.
'Where are these from?'
'Major Seaton, I believe, is responsible,' said the girl carelessly.
'How many several people are after you at this present, MissHazel?'
'Difficult to say, sir, without more extensive inquiries than I have made. Your words do not put an attractive face upon the matter.'
'Is there any such thing in the lot?' asked Mr. Falkirk, discontentedly.
'As an attractive face? O yes, sir, several. Quite a number, I should say,' replied Miss Hazel, with a critical air.
'And all of them at Moscheloo?'
'All what, sir? Your English is hardly so pointed as usual—if you will excuse me for saying it.'
'You were speaking of attractive faces, my dear. I should say that your syntax wanted attention.'
'I did not know but you referred to "the lot," ' said Wych Hazel. 'There was the usual mingling, I think, of attractive and unattractive.'
Mr. Falkirk was silent till dinner was served, and then attended to that.
'Mr. Falkirk,' Hazel began suddenly, when Gotham had retired, 'Ibelieve you could move now. Come!—go with me to Oak Hill to-night,—will you, sir?'
'Oak Hill,' said her guardian. 'Mrs. Seaton's. What is to be done there?'
'A promenade concert—nominally.'
'That sounds something to me like a dancing dinner. What does it mean, my dear?'
'Just what I said, in the first place, sir. If Kitty Fisher and the Powders are there, it may turn into something else.'
'And what does a promenade concert turn into, when it is enchanted?' said Mr. Falkirk.
'A succession of dances—it might.'
'Well, my dear—what should I do in a succession of dances?'
She laughed,—just a little. Laughs were not ready to-night.'Sit still, sir, and watch me.'
'It strikes me I do enough of that as it is, without going toOak Hill. Do you want more than you will have to watch you?'
The word jarred. She was silent a minute. Then earnestly—
'I wish you would, Mr. Falkirk.'
A new expression on Mr. Falkirk's face shewed that a new idea had occurred to him.
'What does this mean?' he asked gently, bending on his ward one of his keen looks from under the thick eyebrows.
She answered without looking at him,
'It means what is says, sir.'
'What is the matter, my dear?' came more sympathizingly thanMr. Falkirk's wont. It was even a little low and tender.
'Why, Mr. Falkirk—it is such an unreasonable request, that you should be so keen after reasons?'
'I do not know that it is unreasonable, but you know that it is unwonted. You have not been apt to wish for more guarding than you have had, Miss Hazel. Cannot you tell me what makes you desire it now?'
Mr. Falkirk did not growl now, nor draw his brows together; he was in patient earnest, seeing cause.
'I did not say to guard me, sir. Sometimes,' said Hazel, choosing her words, 'sometimes it might be pleasant to have somebody in the room to whom I was supposed to belong—just a little bit. How do you like Major Seaton's grapes, Mr. Falkirk?'
Mr. Falkirk drew his brows together now, and spite of his weak ankle got up and paced across the floor thoughtfully. Then came to a sudden stop in front of Wych Hazel.
'Has anybody annoyed you?' he asked.
'By "annoyed" you mean?—'
'Made you feel the want of a protector; or of somebody, as you say, that you belong to.' Mr. Falkirk's brows were drawing very thick together indeed.
'No, I think not,' she answered. 'Not intentionally. People are very good to me; very respectful, I believe. But I must go and see that my dress is in order. I shall wear blue to-night, Mr. Falkirk—and you like blue.' She made him a profound little courtesy, and danced off out of the room.
Mr. Falkirk's cogitations, to judge by his eyebrows, were also profound, when his ward had left him alone. They did not issue in any resolve to re-enter the gay world, however, which had never been Mr. Falkirk's sphere; and Miss Kennedy went to Oak Hill alone. Had she been made to 'feel her want of a protector?'—On the contrary!—Or 'annoyed' in any other sense?— that was far too soft a word. And so she stepped from her carriage in company with many thoughts, and came out upon the assembled light and colour as stately as if she had been the only right line in the universe. A bevy of her friends were round her directly.
'Hazel,' said Phinny Powder, 'we are going to run this concern into a German as soon as it has run long enough in its own name. I am so glad you are here; and in blue. Keep near me, won't you, because it'll just set me off, and some dresses kill me.'
'How can she keep near you, you giddy creature?' said Mme. Lasalle. 'Hazel' (whispering), 'Stuart bade me engage you to lead the German with him. May I tell him you will?'
'O Hazel,' cried Josephine again, 'we are going to have such fun. Kitty is going to let us into some new figures, and they are considerably jolly, I tell you!'
'Are they?' said Hazel. 'But the music comes first, Mme. Lasalle, and I may not stay for the German. And I have promised the first walk to Mr. May.'
'Not stay for the German!'—'Notstay for the German?' was echoed in so many various tones of despair that it had to be answered again.
'I only said I might not,' said Wych Hazel. 'Good evening, Mr. May.'—And Miss Kennedy swept off, to the opening burst of music from the band.
Now there are other sounds besides music at a promenade concert, and many things not strictly harmonious are said and done under cover of its trombones and violins. Wych Hazel indeed walked unremittingly,—it suited her mood that night; but many sat and talked, very regardless of the music, and not too mindful of other ears. And so after a while a group gathered round Kitty Fisher, to discuss the coming German and pick up a few hints touching the promised new figures. Wych Hazel had just passed, escorted on either hand: her dark-blue robe and white laces setting her off to perfection. For a minute eyes alone were busy.
'That girl provokes me to death with her high dresses!' saidKitty Fisher. 'Such ridiculous nonsense!'
'I'm not so sure as to that,' said Miss May. 'Dick raves about it.'
'Dick raves about her altogether,' said Kitty,—'so of course he has to include her dress.'
'Well, George said that other shoulders might as well retire if her's ever came fairly out,' said little Molly Seaton, who was taking her first sips of society, and looked up to Miss Kennedy as the eighth and ninth wonder of the world combined.
'I don't care,' said Kitty Fisher, 'I'll have 'em out! I vow I will. It's a fraud on society.'
'Society can afford to be a loser now and then,' said Mr. Kingsland, softly insinuating himself among the ladies;—'it gets so much more than its due between whiles!'
'It's prudish,' said Phinny, disregarding this sentiment,— 'that's what it is. Do you suppose it's that old wretch of a guardian keeps her in leading strings? Now she talks of not staying to the German.'
'The Sorceress is in one of her moods to-night,' said Mr. Kingsland. 'Murky. Flashes coming so thick and fast, that I declare I've been winking all the evening.'
'Stephen,' said Miss Kitty, 'if you'll help get up the "Handkerchief" by and by, and get her into the thick of it before she knows where she's going, I'll give you the first pair of blue gloves I can spare.'
'Great offer,' said Mr. Kingsland; 'but to-night the Sorceress prefers walking.'
'Stuff!—who cares what she prefers?'
'Some nine-tenths—and a fraction—of all the men here,—myself included,' said Mr. Kingsland.
'You are the fraction, or you'd manage it,' retorted Kitty.'It's doubtful if shewoulddance withyou.'
'She will not dance with anybody this night,' said Mr.Kingsland.
'How do you know?'
'Said so. And what Miss Kennedy has said, she does.'
'Why, shecouldn'tdance in that long train,' said MollySeaton.
'Little goose!' said Kitty Fisher, 'she would hangthatover her partner's arm.'
'Would she!' said Mr. Kingsland, with a slight whistle. 'I asked her to do it once: I think I shall not again.'
'She'd rather talk to six men than dance with one, I suppose,' said Miss Fisher, eyeing the girl who stood now leaning against a tree in the distance.
'And the post of the seventh looks so inviting!' said Mr.Kingsland, rising and strolling off.
'Isn't it too much!' said Kitty Fisher. 'See here, girls and boys, listen,'—and heads and voices too went down below recognition.
A little later in the evening, Gotham from his seclusion in the servants' quarters was summoned to speak to a lady. He found awaiting him, not his mistress, but a wonderful pyramid of white tarletan from which issued a voice.
'Miss Hazel is going to spend the night with Mrs. Seaton, and she sends you word that you may go home and come back for her at eight o'clock in the morning.'
'Ain't that clever?' said Phinny to the cavalier on whose arm she leaned, as they retraced their way towards the lighted portion of the grounds. 'Now I have disposed of one trouble.'
All unconscious of this machination Wych Hazel kept on her walk—the only thing she could decide to do to-night. In fact the girl hardly knew her own mood. Of course the strictures that had been made were all unfounded, as touching her; but the words had given such pain at the time, that the very idea of dancing made her wince as if she heard them again. That would wear off, of course, but for the present she would walk; and had, as Molly guessed, put on her long train as a token. But when the concert began to tend towards the German, another fancy seized her: to stay and look on, and get that outside view which was almost unknown. And so when the first set was forming she released Major Seaton for his partner, and again took Mr. May's arm and walked towards the dancers.
'My dear,' said Mme. Lasalle, coming up on the other side, 'are you not dancing?'
'As you see, Madame!' said Hazel, with a slight bend and laugh.
'Younot dancing! What's the matter?'
'Well—you will find it is a freak, or I tired myself last night, or I want to make a sensation—according to whom you ask,' said Wych Hazel.
'You are not forbidden?' whispered the lady, in a lower tone.
'No, Madame.'
'You seem to have so many guardians,' the lady went on,—'and guardians are selfish, my dear; horribly selfish. For that, I think all men are, whether guardians or not.'
'Just now,' said Wych Hazel, 'I am the selfish one,—keepingMr. May from dancing.' Which supposed view of the case Mr.May, like a wise man, did not try to answer—just then.
The German began. One or two ordinary figures first, but watched by Wych Hazel with eager eyes.
'Yes, of course!' she said to herself, as Kitty Fisher went round with her head on her partner's shoulder,—'if he thought I did that.'Couldhe think it?—the little white glove tips so nearly withdrew themselves from the black coat-sleeve they were touching, that Mr. May turned to ask if she was tired and wished to sit down.
But motions that were pretty to look at followed: each couple in turn passing through an avenue of little coloured flags, which held out by the motionless couples on either side, met and crossed over the heads of the dancers. Down came Stuart Nightingale and Miss Fisher, and Mr. Burr and Phinny Powder, and Major Seaton and Miss May,—Wych Hazel looked on, smiling, and with a stir of her little right foot. How often she had come down just so! Then began a figure that she did not know: they were going to 'practise,' Kitty Fisher called out, recommending her to come.
'You won't know how next time.'
'Thank you, I can learn by looking on.'
And so she stood still and watched. Watched to see the ladies, armed with long reins and a whip, driving their partners cheerfully from point to point, with appropriate gestures and sounds and frolic. The little bells tinkled gleefully, the many-coloured leading-strings mingled in a kaleidoscope pattern.
'Symbolical,' Mr. Kingsland remarked, standing near. 'This is the "Bridle" figure, Miss Kennedy.'
'Unbridled' would be a better name, Miss Kennedy thought, but she said not a word; only her lips curled disdainfully. But, 'driving men is easy work,' as Phinney Powder said, and so this 'practice' soon gave way to another still more striking. The ladies ranged themselves, standing well apart from each other, and among the gentlemen was a general flutter of white handkerchiefs. What were they going to do? 'Bonds' was the word that occurred to Hazel this time, as she stood leaning a little forward in interested expectation. And so it proved,— but not just as she had expected. To be tied by the hand would be bad enough, but by the foot!—and yet,—yes, certainly Major Seaton's handkerchief was round Kitty Fisher's pretty ankle—to the discomfiture of several other handkerchiefs of like intentions,—and Miss Powder had Stuart Nightingale at her feet,—and Phinny—
But who did it for whom, Wych Hazel scarcely thought until afterwards. She looked on for a minute at the scuffling, laughing, romping; then drew back with a deep flush.
'Did they think they could do that withme!' she said, under her breath. And what could her companion do but feel ashamed of every man he had ever seen do 'that' for any woman?
The course of things was changed after a time by Mr. Nightingale's coming up and asking her to walk. He had made over the 'practice' to somebody else, professing that he knew the figures already. Perhaps somewhat in his companion's manner struck him, for he remarked, quite philosophically, as they moved into the shadow of the shrubbery, that 'society is a problem!'
'Is it?' said Hazel, to whom problems (out of books) were as yet in a happy distance. 'What needs solution, Mr. Nightingale?'
'Is it possible you do not see?'
'Not a bit. I did not know society was deep enough to be called a problem.'
' "Glissez, mortels; n'appuyez pas." '
'Well, people do not,' said Wych Hazel.
'And had best not. Nothing is more graceful than the state of bold and brave innocence.'
Hazel mused a little at that, half unconsciously getting up a problem of her own. Was he talking ofher'innocence?' did he, too, see things which she did not? And was this another warning? Yet no one more forward to draw her into round dances than Stuart Nightingale. He began again in another tone.
'You are determined not to dance to-night?'
'Yes. Am I part of the problem?'
He laughed a little. 'You would not be a true woman if you were not.'
'You may as well give up trying to understandme,' said Wych Hazel, gaily. 'Mr. Falkirk and I have been at it for years, and the puzzle is a puzzle yet.'
'Confess, you like to be a puzzle.'
'One may as well make the best of one's natural advantages,' said Hazel with a laugh. 'I suppose if I were what people call "limpid," and "transparent," I might like that too.' But the clear girlish purity of the depths referred to was as transparent as the Summer blue.
'Have you ever been told,' said Stuart, lowering his voice a little, 'of your very remarkable resemblance to one of the greatest puzzles of history?'
'No,' said Hazel. 'And you do not know me well enough to tell what I resemble.'
'Pardon me—pardon me! Do you think I could not have told, after that one first meeting in the wood?'
'If you could,' said Wych Hazel, with a lift of her eyebrows,'I cannot imagine how society can be a problem to you, Mr.Nightingale.'
'There never was but one woman, of those whose pictures have come down to us, whose mouth could be at once so mischievous and so sweet. You are aware the mouth is the index to the character?'
Hazel answered with some reserve (direct compliments always gave her a check)
'No—Yes. I have heard people say so.'
'And you know the woman I mean?'
'She is bound to be a witch!—but further than that—'
'The likeness is really remarkable,' said Stuart, seriously; 'you have the Mary Stuart brow exactly, and the mouth, as I said; and I think, as far as difference of colour admits similarity of effect, the eyes have the same trick of power. I suppose you like power?'
'I suppose I should! Mr. Falkirk ties up all my power, and labels it "Edge tools," ' said Wych Hazel.
'I suppose it cuts its way out, and so justifies him. Don't you have your own way generally?'
'Well, between taking it, and coaxing it out, and refusing to take any other, I do have it sometimes,' said Wych Hazel.
'Is Mr. Falkirk much of an ogre? I do not know him. Difficult to manage?'
'He thinks I am,' said Wych Hazel. 'No, he is not an ogre at all, except officially.'
'Does he pretend to exercise much supervision over your doings?'
'Pretend?' she repeated. 'He has the right, Mr. Nightingale. And did ever a man have a right and not give it an airing now and then?'
Stuart laughed, and laughed again. 'Don't be hard on us!' he pleaded.
'Truth is not slander.'
'But are not women as fond of power, and wont to exercise it as ruthlessly, as ever men are?'
'It is not a strong power, if they do.'
'Take care,' said Stuart. 'Honour bright!—while Mr. Falkirk thinks things go according to his will, don't they really go by yours?'
'No,' said Wych Hazel, 'when hethinksthey do, theydo,—when they do not, he knows it.'
'Then you arenotfree. That is hard!—hard upon you. A mother's authority is one thing; a guardian's, I should think, is something very different. Does he interfere with your dancing?'
'No.'—Hazel herself hardly knew why words suddenly became scarce.
'I thought you were very fond of it.'
'O, I am!'
'Then why will you not honour me and please yourself to- night?'
' "Why" is safe, while "why" keeps hid. All women know that,' said Wych Hazel.
'You best of all,' said Stuart. 'I dare say it is just to make us miserable. But now I am coming to you with a more serious request. Will you help us in some private theatricals?'
'I?—O, I could not. I know nothing about the matter. Never went to a theatre in my life, to begin with.'
'So much the better. I know you will do it to perfection. In the first place you are not vain; and in the second place you are independent; and an actor should be free in both respects. And of positive qualifications you are full. Say you will try!'
'I am the worst person to make believe that ever you saw,' said Wych Hazel. 'I doubt if I could counterfeit anybody else for ten minutes.'
'Precisely!' said Stuart in a contented tone. 'You would not counterfeit. Good acting is not counterfeiting—it is nature. You will help us? Say you will!'
'O, if I can—certainly.'
Before Wych Hazel's lips had fairly got the words out, the two found themselves suddenly flush with Mr. Rollo, standing by the side of the way under a laburnum tree, which was hung with lights instead of its natural gold pendants.
Swiftly as only thoughts can, they rushed through the girl's mind on the instant. Then he was here! And of course he knew she was not dancing,—andof coursehe must think—There was another figure beginning—she might go and join that. No!—not with him to look on, making mental comments: that would be simply unendurable. Then she must tell him it was not for what he had said. And she could not tell him that, because it was!— Only in a different way. And how was she to talk to him of 'ways,' or of anything else, after last night? The result of all which lucubrations was, that she bent her head gravely—and it may be said somewhat lower than usual—in silent acknowledgment of Mr. Rollo's presence. She was desperately afraid of him to-night. But though he stepped up and spoke to her, it was in the indifferent tone of ordinary business.
'On my way here I got something that I think I ought to give to you. By and by, when you are at leisure, will you command my presence?'
'I can take it now.'
'No,' said he carelessly, 'I will not interrupt you. I should have to explain. I will be on the lawn in front of the concert-saloon when you want me.'
He bowed and fell back from them.
'Have youtwoguardians?' said Stuart slyly.
'No.'
'Just a little more assurance than necessary, in his communication.'
'What do you consider the proper amount?' said Wych Hazel, retreating to carelessness in her turn.
'I should not dare offer any,' said Stuart. 'It is with nothing of the kind that I venture to ask if you will ride with me to-morrow.'
'Ah, I would if I could!' said the girl longingly. 'I would give almost anything to be on horseback again. But my horses have not come, and till then I must wait.'
'Let me offer one of my aunt's horses!' said Stuart eagerly.But Hazel shook her head.
'I cannot take it—Mr. Falkirk will let me mount none but my own.'
'Is it reasonable to yield obedience so far, and with so little ground?'
'It is comfortable,' said Hazel with a laugh. 'O yes, I suppose it is reasonable, too.'
The walk went on and the talk; each in its way wandering along through moonlight and among flowers, and then Hazel bethought her that what she had to do must be done before she went home. So mustering up her courage, she seated herself on one of the broad stone steps at the side door, and despatched her escort to the front for Mr. Rollo. Presently he came, and sat down beside her.
'At what hour did you order your carriage?' he asked in a low tone.
'Gotham was to wait.'
'He has gone home. I met him as I came.'
'Gone home? O he is only driving around to keep his horse awake. It is not a fiery turnout, by any means.'
'He has gone home,' Rollo repeated smiling, 'and I did not know enough to order him about again. But I sent word to Mr. Falkirk that I would take care of you.'
The girl's brows lifted, then drew slightly together.
'Thank you—,' she said, with rather stately hesitation,—'but as Mr. Falkirk will send Gotham straight back, I had better wait.'