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Susan and Anna Warner - Wych Hazel

S >> Susan and Anna Warner >> Wych Hazel




'Ain't you? Why?' asked the young lady ingenuously.

'Because I do not like to be questioned. You perceive no fault
can be found with my reasons,' she added with a smile.

'Then you do like him, I know. People are never afraid to tell
their dislikes. Why!--is that'--

A broken-off inquiry here was never finished, the answer to it
in fact being furnished by the coming near of Rollo whose
distant appearance had first suggested it. He came up on the
verandah, shook hands with Mrs. Powder, but gave the other
ladies one of what Wych Hazel used to know, as his Spanish
greetings; courteous and distant equally. Dr. Maryland had
before this finished his colloquy with the ex-Governor's lady
and departed. Rollo now took his place and talked to Mrs.
Powder, while for a few minutes Annabella used her eyes, as
much as she could, and Miss Phinny ceased to use her tongue.

Wych Hazel never knew by what instinct she worked her way
through that first bit of time. Eager for more tidings, sure
that her eagerness must not appear, she held her breath for
one minute--then rose up cool and quiet, the young mistress of
Chickaree.

'Yes,' she said, answering Phinny's half spoken words, 'it is
Mr. Rollo. And of course he has had no luncheon.'

She summoned Dingee with a blast of her silver whistle (there
were few bells at Chickaree), ordered up hot chocolate and
fresh tea and relays of fruit and cream; and herself stepped
forward to see them served.

'There are croquettes, Mr. Rollo,' she said,--'and Dingee will
bring you cold beef. And with what may I fill your cup?'

Primrose, through her scattering talk with Annabella, watched,
as she could, these two people who were so strange to her
simplicity. Here was Wych Hazel, a little while ago on the
floor in a passion of tears; now, calm, self-possessed, and
graceful. Primrose had been very uncertain how she would meet
Rollo the next time; with a kind of wonder she heard her
friendly offer of chocolate and observed Rollo's perfectly
cool and matter-of-course acceptance of it from her hands. It
was something beyond Primrose. She waited to see how it would
be when Mrs. Powder went away.

But a great many thoughts went in among the sugar that
Primrose never guessed. Wych Hazel was anxiously waiting to
have the good report about Reo confirmed, and would not shew
her anxiety. But what did Prim mean by people's waiting all
their lives? What did they wait for? Well, these two people
needn't wait any longer for a meeting--that was one thing. _That_
affair was well off her hands. Why hadn't Mr. Falkirk returned
too?--Staying with Reo, perhaps, until she came, and she could
not go, and could not ask. And now, of course, the Powders
would just stay on, supplementing their lunch to bear Mr.
Rollo company. Perhaps, though, it was just as well they were
here when he came. Because she knew she ought to be furiously
angry with him, and somehow that was never a _role_ she could
play. Before excitement reached that point, she always got
hurt, or troubled, or timid--and just now she was too tired. If
he told her to sit there and count her fingers, she should
hardly have spirit to resist. How ever had he dared to take
hold of said fingers as he had done!--and with that came a
sudden rush to Miss Kennedy's cheeks which made her wish she
could go for hot chocolate instead of Dingee. He had hindered
her by sheer force. Gentle force,--and gentlemanlike,--but none
the less true to its name. There was one of the peculiar
advantages of being a woman! Or a girl. She should be stronger
in full womanhood. But oh, she was woman enough to take care
of Reo!--and if Reo were dying, and Mr. Rollo did not want to
have her go, he would sit calmly there and want more
chocolate!--She glanced at him from under the long eyelashes,
and another flush (of impatience this time) tinged her cheeks.
But she did not stint him in sugar, nor make any mistakes with
the cream. Then her eyes went away over the long slope, where
birds and sunshine held their revels. Wait?--what did people
wait for, 'all their lives?' And why did Mr. Maryland's last
words come up to her again? And why did the aforesaid
eyelashes grow wet? She was all shaken out of herself by the
morning's work. She would send Dingee to inquire!--and not
wait. But then if this strange man should order _him_ back--and
Dingee could not be relied on to go silently. No, she could
not have a scene before all these people. And a wee bit of a
sigh, well kept in hand, went to the compounding of Miss
Phinny's third cup. 'Womanly patience?'--how was hers to be
grown, yet? And what did he know about it, any way? She should
like to see him thoroughly thwarted, for once, and see how
much manly patience he had on hand. And another swift glance
went his way; but with anxiety rousing up again, the glance
lingered, and was more inquiring than she meant it should be.

Luncheon was really over at last. The Governor's lady said
some gracious words of welcome to her young hostess, invited
her to a dinner-party a few days off, and having ordered up
her carriage, swept away with her daughters. What will be now?
thought Primrose.

Rollo had put the ladies into their carriage, and stood long
enough to let them get out of observation behind the woods;
then he came up on the verandah and going round the table sat
down beside Wych Hazel. Primrose saw--did the other?--the easy
motion which was universal with him, the fine figure, the
frank, bright face. Primrose did not mean to watch, but she
saw it all, and the look with which he sat down. It was not
that of a man about to make an apology, neither had it any
smile of attempted ingratiation. It was rather a sweet,
confidential look of inquiry, which, however, went down
through the depths of the brown eyes he was looking into, and
rifled them of all their secrets. It was a sort of look before
which a woman's eyes fall.

'Reo is not seriously hurt,' he said softly, when this point
had been reached.

She bowed her head. 'So Dr. Maryland brought word. At last the
_hope_.'

'He is only a good deal bruised. No bones broken, nor any
other harm done. It might have been worse; and so the
messenger who first came did not alarm us for nothing. One of
the woodcutters had felled a large tree without giving due
warning, or Reo had not heeded the warning; he was caught
under the tree. But he escaped very well. He is at his own
house, where he will have to keep his bed some days, I fancy.'

Another mute gesture. Perhaps the girl was not sure of herself
after all the morning's work, and had no mind to risk another
admonition about self-control.

'I am very glad,' she said gravely, after a minute.

'I am very glad. Mr. Falkirk has sprained his ankle,' he went
on a little lower.

'Mr. Falkirk!'--

Hazel sprang up,--then as instantly sat down again. There
should be no more strength used about her that day!

'Helping Reo?' she said.

'Not directly. He made a misstep, I think, among the confusion
of branches cut and uncut with which the ground was
encumbered; slipped off one of them, perhaps; somehow gave his
foot a twist,--and there he is. That was the cause of my long
delay.' He spoke, watching the little lady all the while.

'Why did he not come here?--it was nearer,' she said with some
accent of impatience.

'No,'--very gently--'we were nearer his cottage. I proposed
bringing him,--where I was sure you would wish for him,--here,
at once; but Mr. Falkirk laid his commands on me and on all
concerned so absolutely that there was no choice. We carried
him to his cottage; for he could not walk.'

'Just like Mr. Falkirk!'--then the impatience died away in a
soft tone of pity. 'Not able to walk!'--

'He will be a prisoner for some time, I am afraid.'

Hazel made no answer to that; thoughts were crowding in thick
and fast. What was she going to do, with Mr. Falkirk laid up?
Would she be a prisoner too? Was she to live here in this
great old house alone, by day as well as by night? They were
rather sober thoughts that came.

'That's very bad for Hazel,' said Primrose, coming near and
joining the group. Hazel held out her hand and got fast hold
of Prim's. She was ready for the sympathy this time.

'Does he suffer very much, Mr. Rollo?'

'I don't think he minds that part of it; no, I left him in
comparative comfort. I think his trouble is about you. And he
ought to have come here!--but people don't always know what
they ought to do. I am going down there again presently to
look after him and make sure that Gotham understands bandages.

'Gotham _thinks_ he understands everything.'

'I'll just make sure on that point. Have you any commands
before I go?'

'No, thank you,' she said, with just the lightest shade of
hesitation, 'I think not.'

'Reconsider that, and give me my orders.'

'No--truly!' Hazel answered, looking up at him. How busy the
thoughts were.

'I am going to Reo's first. Have you any commands there?' But
she shook her head.

'No, Mr. Rollo, not any.'

He went off; and there was an interval somewhat quiet and
untalkative between the two girls. Later, Rollo came back,
reported both patients doing well, and carried Prim home with
him.

'Did you think I was all ungrateful?' Hazel said, wrapping her
arms round Prim. 'Well, I was _not_.'


CHAPTER XX.

BOUQUETS.


Wych Hazel stood alone on her broad steps, watching the others
out of sight, and feeling alone, too. It must be nice to
belong to somebody,--to have brothers and friends! Just for the
moment, she forgot her now unwatched independence. But then
she came back to business, and flew off up stairs. The brown
dress could not stay on another minute,--was not the whole
morning tucked away in its folds? That was the first thing.
And the second thing was, that Miss Kennedy, in a cloud of
fresh muslin and laces, came out again upon the steps, and,
calling Dingee to follow her, began to speed away through the
old trees at a sort of flying pace. It was late afternoon now;
with lovely slant sunbeams and shadows falling across the
slope, and a tossing breeze, and the birds at their evening
concert. Fresh air, and action soon brought the girl up to
concert pitch herself; and she went on like a very sprite,
along a side wood path, avoiding the main approach, and so
gained the lodge by a side door; and in a minute more stood by
the bedside of her faithful old retainer. Hazel never knew at
what cost to himself Reo managed to put out one hand far
enough to receive her dainty fingers.

'My little lady!' he said fondly, 'I knew she would come.'

'O Reo--O Reo!--I am so sorry!' she said, her eyes growing wet.

'No need Miss Wych, dear,' said Reo, smiling at her, though
his own eyes moistened to see hers.

'And it was just cutting those trees that I did not want cut!'

'Aye,--but they do want cutting though, Miss Wych,' said Reo.
'Mr. Falkirk is right. And Mr. Rollo.'

How that name came up at every turn.

'Those trees are so big!' said Hazel with a shiver. 'I do not
see how you ever got out again, Reo.'

'Never should, my little lady,' said Reo, 'only that there was
somewhat between me and the tree.'

'Between you and the tree?' said Hazel. 'Do you mean another
tree, that kept it off?'

'No, little lady,' said Reo, 'I mean the Lord's hand. You see
He's quicker than we are, and before I could jump or turn, His
hand was there over me. And caught the tree, and let it touch
me but just so much.'

Hazel stood looking at him.

'Suppose he had not put his hand there, Reo?' she said.

'Then it would have been under me, Miss Wych--that's all the
difference,' said Reo, quietly. 'Only I should never have seen
my little lady again in this life.'

'Well, you have got to see her a great many times,' said the
girl, speaking fast because it was not easy to speak at all.
'I am coming to sing to you, and read to you, and to do all
sorts of things.' And with a smile like a stray sunbeam she
left the room, and after a minute with Mrs. Reo which
straightway made her over, 'as good as two,' Hazel flitted
away up the hill again, as far as to Mr. Falkirk's cottage;
walking in through the Summer-open doors upon his tea and
toast, without the slightest warning. There she was all right.
It was delightful to get the whip hand for once! And so,
privately enjoying Gotham's dismay at her unannounced
entrance, Wych Hazel stood by her guardian's side with a face
of grave reprehension.

'Mr. Falkirk, I am really very much surprised at you!'

'H'm!--Not more than I am at myself, Miss Hazel. You are not
ahead of me there.'

'Considering how much there is to do, sir; considering the
unsettled state of the neighbourhood, and my extremely
unprotected condition; that you should go dancing round among
loose branches without a partner, passes all my small wits.'

Mr. Falkirk glanced up at her, a glance of momentary fun and
recognition, though he was by no means in a sportive mood;
that was easy to see.

'Will you sit down, Miss Hazel? You must play guardian now.
Can your wits accomplish that?'

'Yes, sir, I thank you. Will you order me a cup and saucer,
Mr. Falkirk? I have had no dinner, and could eat no lunch. And
I know Gotham would see me starve before I had even a crust
without your permission.'

'I'm sure, Miss 'Azel!--Mr. Falkirk knows'--began Gotham.

'What have you got, Gotham?--anything in the house? Be off, and
get all there is--and be quick about it.'

'O, I do not want much, sir--just a slight supplement to the
pleasure of seeing you,' said Hazel, with her gay laugh. 'Mr.
Falkirk, don't you think it would be very nice to have Mrs.
Saddler dust up that little bit of a brown corner room for me?
And then I could stay here with you all the time, and we would
take splendid care of each other.'

'There's nothing there _but_ a little brown room, my dear.'

'I do not care, sir. Mrs. Saddler must have a spare blanker
among her stores. And I would leave word up yonder that I had
unexpectedly gone away for a time.--And it would be fun,' said
Miss Hazel, decidedly. 'Besides the other advantages.'

'What will happen to all the princes who are coming after the
princess?'

'They will learn--self-control,' said Miss Hazel. 'I have been
told lately that it is a good thing.'

'Not formerly?'

'The last time made the most impression, sir. As last times
are apt to do.'

'Miss Hazel, I have a request to make to you,' Mr. Falkirk
said, after allowing a minute or two of silence to succeed the
last remark.

'What, sir? That I will not sing so loud in the little brown
room as to disturb your repose? I can promise _that_.'

'You have not got your horses yet.'

'No, sir. I am sure I ought to know so much,' said the girl
with a sigh.

'Rollo will see to it. You forget, my dear, we have been but a
few days here. Miss Hazel, do you remember the story of the
enchanted horse in the Arabian Nights?'

'With great clearness, sir. In everything but his appearance
it was just the horse I should like.'

'Just the horse I am afraid of. The cavalier turned a screw
and the lady was gone. I request that you will mount nobody's
steed, not even your own, without consulting me first that I
may make sure all is safe. It is still more true than it was
the other night that I require your co-operation to discharge
my trust.'

'Why, of course I should consult you, sir!' she said, with
some surprise.

'That is all, Miss Hazel. Rollo will give his oversight to the
woods. Only don't engage yourself to anybody for a ride till
you _have_ consulted me. Do you agree to that form of
precaution-taking?'

'Certainly, sir. I am sure I referred Mr. Morton to you at
once,' said Miss Hazel, drinking her tea. And Mr. Falkirk, in
a silence that was meditative if not gloomy, lay and watched
her. It was a little book room where they were, perhaps the
largest on that floor, however; a man's room. The walls all
books and maps, with deer horns, a small telescope and pistols
for a few of its varieties. Yet it was cheerful too, and in
perfect order; and Mr. Falkirk was lying on a comfortable
chintz couch. Papers and writing materials and books had been
displaced from one end of the table for Hazel's tea. That
over, the young lady brought a foot-cushion to the side of Mr.
Falkirk's couch and established herself there, much refreshed.

'It is great fun to come to tea with you, sir! Now, may I go
on with business? or are you too tired?'

'Suppose I say I am too tired?' growled Mr. Falkirk, 'what
will you do?'

Hazel glanced up at him from under her eyelashes.

'Wait, sir. I am learning to wait, beautifully!' she answered
with great demureness. 'Then suppose I go and tell Mrs.
Saddler about my room?'

'Go along,' said Mr. Falkirk. 'Give your orders. You had
better send up to the house for some furniture. You'll make
Mrs. Saddler happy at any rate. I am not so sure about Gotham.
But Gotham has too easy a life in general.'

They had a lively time of it in the other part of the house
for the next half day. And so had Mr. Falkirk in his, for that
matter: the sweet voice and laugh and song, somehow,
penetrated to his study as grosser sounds might have failed to
do. It was towards tea-time again when Wych Hazel presented
herself in the study on the tips of her toes, and subsiding
once more to her cushion glanced up as before at Mr. Falkirk.

'Has the fatigue of yesterday gone off, sir?'

'No; but I see the business has come. Can you be comfortable
in your mousehole? Let us have the business, my dear. If it is
knotty perhaps it will make me forget my ankle.'

'Ah!' she said remorsefully, 'I was talking of fatigue, sir--
not of pain. Is the pain very bad?'

'No, my dear; but I was always inclined to the epicurian side
of philosophy, and partial to anodynes; or even counter-
irritants.'

'Whose bandage have you got on?' she said curiously.

'Whose? My own.'

'Dear sir, I do not mean as to the linen! Mr. Rollo was coming
down to teach Gotham, and I wondered which of them took a
lesson. That is all.'

'H'm! Ask Gotham,' said Mr. Falkirk.

'I wish I had been here to see,' said Wych Hazel. 'Never mind,
I will next time. By the way, sir, did you leave any orders
for me yesterday morning with anybody?'

'What do you mean, my dear?' said her guardian, rather opening
his eyes. It is to be noted that though he growled and frowned
as much as ever, there had come into Mr. Falkirk's mien an
undoubted softening of expression since yesterday.

'I merely asked, sir. But now for business. Mrs. Powder is to
have a grand explosion in the way of a dinner party next week.
And she wants me to come and help touch off the fireworks. May
I go?'

'What did you tell her?'

'That I would if you would, sir.'

'Is this the business?'

'Item the first, sir.'

'Well, my dear. Anything conditional upon my movements for
some time to come will probably have to be vetoed. But you
will have offers of a substitute.'

'The Marylands are going, sir.'

'Of course.'

'Well, Mr. Falkirk, suppose substitutes do offer,--what then?'

'Then you will follow your pleasure, Miss Hazel.'

'Thank you, sir. The next item seems to be a mild form of
this: a little evening party at Mrs. Gen. Merrick's. And Mrs.
Merrick hearing of your accident, sent a note to say that Miss
Bird would convey me to Merricksdale, safe and in good order.'

'Who is Miss Bird?'

'Don't you remember, sir? She came to see me the same morning
the Lasalle party came.'

'There are a great many Birds,' said Mr. Falkirk, grumpily,
'and they are not all pigeons.'

'But, my dear Mr. Falkirk, however important such natural
history facts may be, they do not exactly meet the case in
hand.'

'I don't know whether they meet it or no. Can't you go with
Miss Maryland?'

'Not invited, sir.'

'How would you get back?'

'Mrs. Merrick takes charge of that.'

'And didn't think it necessary to inform you how or when?'

'It is only a small party, sir. I should expect to be back
early.'

'That needs to be made certain, Miss Hazel, and stipulated
for.'

'Well, sir, you shall name the hour.'

'Name it yourself; but be home by half-past eleven. Miss
Hazel, I wish, till you have your own horses, you would not go
to such places.'

There was a shade of disappointment in her face, but she
answered steadily--

'I will not go, sir, if that is really your wish.'

'My dear, we must meet the enemy. In the progress of ladies
seeking their fortune that is always understood. What next?'

She hesitated a moment, carefully dressing the petals of a
carnation in her hand.

'The third item, sir, is--that if to-morrow afternoon I--will
consent to put--my little foot,' said Miss Hazel, evidently
mastering a laugh, 'inside the right phaeton--Mr. May will
consent to drive.'

'Mr. May! Confound his impudence!' was the by no means
doubtful utterance of Miss Hazel's guardian.

Hazel bit her lips and sat demurely waiting further
developments.

'Chickaree is in a very exposed situation, Miss Hazel!' Mr.
Falkirk remarked, with something a little like a sigh. While,
as if to give effect to his words, two well-mounted horsemen
at that moment went up the hill, exchanging greetings with the
occupants of a landau that was just then making the descent.
Wych Hazel looked and laughed.

'It is very comical!' she said. But her guardian was silent.
He knew the Enchanted ground had to be met and passed. Perhaps
he wished it were well over; but I think the present feeling
of discontent relieved itself not even so far.

'And on the whole your three answers are, sir?--' said Hazel,
after a pause.

'In your head,' Mr. Falkirk growled. 'You know what they are.'

'My dear sir! one would think they were in your foot!' But
then she was silent, and then she began to sing. One thing and
another, after her own fitful fashion, in the twilight; and
business did not come up again. Only as she went to sleep that
night, Miss Kennedy indulged in one profound reflection.

'No,' she said to herself, 'Dr. Maryland was right: Primrose
would never do. Get her in a corner, and the most she can say
is, "Duke knows." '

So drew on the night of Mrs. Merrick's party; and meantime a
rainy day or two saved Mr. Falkirk some trouble, and left the
cottage in comparative quiet. But as the night drew near, the
clouds cleared away and the sun shone out, and fairer weather
could not have been wished for, or wished away.

There had been a running fire of errands and messages between
the cottage and the house on the hill, all day. Miss Kennedy
was constantly finding out something more that she wanted for
the evening, and Dingee went back and forth with notes to Mrs.
Bywank and waterproof-covered baskets in return, till Gotham
at least lost patience.

'More duds for Miss 'Azel!' he said in displeasure, as Dingee
appeared just at nightfall with a final basket. 'It's clean
ridikerlous! One dress at a time ought to content any young
lady.'

'Now I jes' tell you what, Mas' Gotham,' said Dingee, 'you
ain't up to de situation. Pears like de whole countryside
after my young mistis!'

Gotham gave a grunt in unsuccessful imitation of his master's
growl.

'H'after'er,' he said. 'Looks more as if she was h'after them--
wanting fourteen dresses at once.'

Dingee shewed his teeth from ear to ear.

'You bery wise man, Mas' Gotham!' he said. ' 'Spect now you
can tell a feller all about dese yere.' And Dingee threw off
the white paper which covered what he carried this time, and
displayed to Gotham's astonished eyes a basket full of
bouquets.

' 'Spect now dese yere growed in Missee Hazel's own
greenhouse,' he said, tauntingly, 'seein' she ain't got none!
Shouldn't wonder if dey started up spontanous like, arter de
shower. How you tink, Mas' Gotham, hey?'

But Gotham was virtuously indignant.

'Miss 'Azel'll get her head worse turned than it h'is now,' he
said.

'Heads does turn, fact,' said Dingee, shaking his own. 'Jes'
you watch 'em when de horseback gen'lemen dey goes by, Mas'
Gotham, and you'll see de heads turn!'

But Gotham had watched enough already to know there was no
mistake about that.

'Well,' he said, 'since h'it's 'ere, h'it's 'ere, and 'll 'ave
to stay, no doubt. I'll take it to the library.'

'Cotch him first!' said Dingee, moving a little out of reach.
'Where Missee Hazel?'

'Prinking 'erself h'up,' answered Gotham severely.

'Gotham telling fibs!' said the young lady in question, coming
up behind him with her light tread. 'Perhaps he had better
take _himself_ to the library, and report to Mr. Falkirk. What
do you want of me, Dingee? I thought everything was here.'

Dingee had adroitly covered his basket again, but now he drew
near and displayed his treasure, adding messages of a somewhat
adorned nature, while Wych Hazel read the cards attached to
the bouquets. Gotham, standing a little off, looked on
indignant as before, and frowned at the flowers and the
flushing cheeks drooped over them, as if he had been Mr.
Falkirk himself. But when Hazel caught up the basket and ran
off to her little corner room, then Gotham did betake himself
to the library, though without quite the report suggested.

'Beg pardon, sir,' he said; 'Miss 'Azel 'ave just received a
bushel of flowers, sir,--if you choose to be h'aware, sir.'

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