The Gold of Chickaree Part 2

Mr. Falkirk thought the non-intercourse between the Hollow and Chickaree a very significant fact; but it was not his plan to annoy his ward by seeming to see anything it was not necessary he should see. It cannot be said that he was quite satisfied with the condition of things, indeed; however, he knew it was hopeless to attack Wych Hazel in the hope of getting information; and with what patience he might, he waited too; the third in that unrestful att.i.tude.

With that strange double life which she had been leading of late, Wych Hazel heard Mr. Falkirk's announcement and poured out his 'after-dinner coffee' with a steady hand. Then asked when Mr.

Rollo was to go. He had gone already, that very day. And till when must this other business wait? Till the second week in October.

Then she knew that he had thrown her off. No other earthly thing would have kept him away on the twenty-fifth, without even a word. Could he have done it, unless his liking for her had changed? _Would_ he have done it, caring for her as?she thought?

he had cared a year ago? With these questions beating back and forth in her mind,?so she went though the rest of the day.

Receiving visiters, giving Mr. Falkirk his tea, sitting with him through the evening; until, at last, it was done and he had gone, and she could be alone. It never even crossed her mind to go to bed that night.

Whatever the new day may do with things that are sure, it is yet rather gentle with uncertainties; making fair little suggestions, and giving stray touches of light, in a way that is altogether hopeful and beguiling. And so, when that weary moonlight night had spent its glitter, and the tender dawn came up, Hazel breathed free over a new thought. Mr. Falkirk might be mistaken! His own business might fill Mr. Rollo's hands until the second week in October,?

that word proved nothing at all about his staying away. She would wait and see. No use in trusting people just while you can keep watch. And so, though the secret pain at her heart did never disappear, and though at best her next meeting with Mr. Rollo could not be very pleasant, still Hazel did hold up her head, and hope, and wait, with a woman's ready faith, and a courage that died out in the twilight and revived in the dawn, and kept her in a fever of suspense and expectation. It wearied her so unspeakably, in the long hours of practical daylight and unmanageable night, that sometimes she could hardly bear it. The world seemed to turn round till she could not catch her thoughts; and nerves overstrung and on the watch, made her start and grow pale with the commonest little sounds of every day and every night.

She had never had many people to love; she had never (before) loved anybody very much; and the truth and dignity which had kept her from all forms of love-trifling, so kept the hidden treasures of her heart all sparkling with their own freshness. They had never been pa.s.sed about from hand to hand; no weather-stains, no worn-out impressions were there. What the amount might be, Wych Hazel had never guessed until in these dark days she began to tell it over; making herself feel so poor! For, after all, what is the use of a treasure which n.o.body wants?

Not the least among her troubles was the painful hiding them all.

She must laugh and talk and entertain Mr. Falkirk; she must guard her face when the mail-bag came in, and steady the little hand stretched out for her letters; must meet and turn off all Mrs.

Byw.a.n.k's looks and words; must dress and go out, and dress and receive people at home. Ah, how hard it was!?and no one to whom she could speak, no lap where she could lay down her head, and pour out her sorrows.

Slowly, as the days went by, and hope grew fainter, and the dawn turned cold, there grew up in Wych Hazel's mind an intense longing to lay hold of something that was still; something that would stand; something beyond the wind and above the waves; and slowly, gradually, the words she had read to Gyda came back, and made themselves a power in her mind:

"I will be with him in trouble."

Oh for some one to be with her! Oh for something she could grasp, and stop this endless swaying and rocking and trembling of all things else! And then, following close, came other words, more lately learned. Not now read over, with those pencil marks beside them; but read often enough before, happily, to have been learned by heart; and now pa.s.sing and re-pa.s.sing in unceasing procession before her thoughts.

"For the love of Christ constraineth us."?

The love that could be counted on; the Presence that was sure!

And so, reaching her hands out blindly through the dark, the girl did now and then lay hold of the Eternal strength, and for a while sometimes found rest. But there came other days and hours when she seemed to be clinging to she hardly knew what, with the full rush and sweeping of the tide around her; conscious only that she was not quite swept away; until when at last the twenty-third was past, and three days of grace had followed suit, Hazel rose up one morning with this one thought: if she did not see somebody to speak to, she should die.

CHAPTER III.

CROSS THREADS.

And in all the world there was but one person to whom she could speak, for but one had guessed her secret; even Gyda. It seemed to the girl afterwards as if at this time again her mother's prayers must have been around her; so clear and swift and instinctive were her decisions, in the chaos of all other things. No danger now of meeting any one at the cottage. But how to get there? Not through Morton Hollow, not on Jeannie Deans,?oh no, oh no! If she went, she must go by that other almost impossible way, which was not a way. She would drive to the foot of the hill, and leave the carriage there, and not take Lewis to see where she went.

How she did it, Hazel never remembered afterwards. She left the carriage with a cheery word to Reo, and then set her face to the hill; the little feet toiling on with swift eagerness through briers and over stones, finding her way she knew not how; conscious only that she did not feel the ground under her feet, but seemed to be walking on nothing, so that she had every now and then a sort of fear of pitching forward. She had set out in good season, but it was past midday when she stood before the cottage. If she knocked as no other hand had ever knocked there; if her face at the opening door startled Gyda beyond words; of this, too, the girl knew nothing. For with the first sight of Gyda, there came such a surge of the sorrows in which she was plunged, that Hazel stepped one step within the door and dropped all unconscious at the old Norsewoman's feet.

Gyda was quite unable to lift her, light as the burden would have been; but what she could she was prompt and skilful to do. She brought cushions to put under Wych Hazel's head, applied cold water and hartshorn; for Gyda was too much in request as a village nurse and doctor to be unsupplied with simple remedies. With tender care she used what she had, till the girl opened her eyes and found Gyda's brown face hovering over her. Even then the old woman said not a word. She waited till Wych Hazel's senses were clear, and the young lady had roused herself up to a sitting position on the floor. Gyda's eyes were too keen not to see that the mind was more disturbed than the body.

'My little lady,' she said wistfully, 'what ails thee?'

Hazel pa.s.sed her hands over her face, and tried to collect her thoughts.

'I am a great deal of trouble,'?she said slowly; for the touch of the wet hair was suggestive, and it seemed to her just then that she was nothing but trouble to anybody.

'And what is it that is troubling _thee?_' said Gyda, stooping down with her hand on Wych Hazel's shoulder, the wrinkled, sweet old face looking earnestly for the answer.

'How can you set things right?' said Hazel, with her usual inroad to the midst of the case. 'How can you set them right, when you do not know where they are wrong?'

'Will my lady tell me what is wrong?' said the old woman, probably judging this statement of the position too vague to be acted upon. 'But come and sit down, and see the fire, and get comfortable; and tell me; and then we'll know.'

Wych Hazel rose and came to the fire as she was bid, and looked at it, seeing nothing; but her next words touched another point.

'Why do such things come upon people?' she said.

The old Norsewoman stood beside her, watching with all the wisdom of her loving, wise heart to see where the hurt was and what the medicine must be. She put her hand again upon Wych Hazel's shoulder as she looked.

'What has come?' she said. 'It's not?my lad?' she added, with evidently a sudden startle of apprehension.

'He is away, you know,' said Hazel, with an immediate reserve of voice. 'I know nothing of him.'

'What has come to my lad's lady?'

A quick spasm of pain pa.s.sed over the face she was watching.

'Hush!' the girl said under her breadth. 'I am not that.'

'Then something wants to be set right,' said the old woman quietly.

'What is it, dear? Tell me, and the Lord will shew us how to do.'

'If _He_ cared, he would have hindered,' said Hazel drearily.

'He doesn't hinder, sometimes, to shew us that he cares,' said Gyda.

'You may not question his love, dear; you'll be sure to get wrong if you do.' And then bending nearer, so as to look close in the girl's face, with her little black eyes shining both keen and tender, she repeated, 'My lad's lady, what is it? I am his servant, and so I am her servant.'

If anything could have broken down the fierce self-control in which Hazel had been entrenched for the last ten days, it was perhaps the repet.i.tion of those words. But tears were biding their time; none had come, none could come yet. Only her lips trembled.

'Please, please!' she said, raising her hand in mute pleading. Then adding, in a tone that went to Gyda's heart, 'He has doubted my word. There is nothing to be done.'

'My lad? Olaf?'

'Yes.'

'It seems ye've doubted him. Is that it?'

'His truth? Never.'

'Nein, not his truth. But you have doubted him, yet. What cause had he to doubt your word?'

'Appearances. They were all against me. But there is no use in trusting, unless you trust.'

'Has Olaf done you wrong, you think, and no cause?'

'I did not come to complain of him,' said the girl quickly. 'But?I had n.o.body to speak to?and I was?dying by inches.'