Wych Hazel Part 52

'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 want _that_, 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. Byw.a.n.k, 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.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE GERMAN AT OAK HILL.

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,' said Gotham, 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 drive Mis 'Azel to and from, sir,--if my mind serves me,' said Gotham.