The Gold of Chickaree

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

CHAPTER IV.

ABOUT THE GUARDIANSHIP.

He came in with the same quick, energetic footstep, looking grave, certainly, but brown and ruddy, like a man with all his forces about him, and with a bright greeting ready for Gyda. And then his face changed suddenly, and his manner. He came up to Wych Hazels side, bent down to take her hand, and said with grave earnestness and all his wonted deferential gentleness,

I am glad to find you here!

One could almost have heard the bolts and bars with which, at the sound of his footsteps, the girl shut herself in. But all colour was shut off as well. She rose to her feet, laying one hand on the chair back to steady herself, and answered simply, I am just going. And she turned to Gyda. But Rollo prevented her.

Wont you sit down again? said he. A minute or two? I have something to say to you, and now is the best time?

He turned to Gyda, but the old Norwegian was already leaving the room, and the two were alone. And perhaps to give her timeor himselfhe stood for a moment still and thoughtful by the side of the fireplace. And Hazel, who had thought she would take the first moment that offered to clear her name of the blot left upon it, sat in a sort of spell, and could not speak.

I want you, he began at length, with that same grave gentleness; he had himself well in hand now;I want you to give me, as a friend, some explanation of that which you told me the other day.

As a friendhe had not then forgotten the day of the month. That was one passing thought. And then, if Mr. Rollo had interest in new displays of character, he had a chance to prosecute the study, and see Wych Hazel as other people sometimes saw her; so far off she seemed in her reserve. This was not the sprite who had disputed his authority and pelted him with sharp speeches; nor the shy girl who had blushed if he but came near her; there was not even the faintest tinging of the cheeks, nor the least gleam from out the deep shadows of the eyes. Only in one way did the slightest agitation betray itself; but twice she began to speak, and twice could not command her lips; the third time she conquered them and went on. With down-looking eyes, and head a little bent, and hands quietly folded, as if they were too tired to hold each other in the old way, and that pathetic quiver still every now and then sweeping round her mouth and chin, Wych Hazel went straight to the midst of things, as if not daring to waste strength on preliminaries.

Sir Henry Crofton had laid a wageror vowed a vowthat he would not go back to England until he had waltzed with me. I saw him once or twice in the fall, and in town he came often to the house, and after that I met him everywhere. And he very often asked me to waltz. And I always refused.

One nightshe drew her breath, as if the words stifled herthen went on swiftly, as before, preventing all questions: One night, at Newport, we were both at an out-door party. There was music, of course; everybody was dancing. Except me. Sir Henry made his usual request, and then asked me to walk instead.

"Do you really never waltz?" he said, as we passed up and down.
I told him no.

"But why not?" I said, one of my guardians disapproved of it.

"Is he here to-night?"No.

"Then, he will never know what you do." I said then, that I had
promised.

"Then it was not for my own pleasure I had given it up?" I said,
no.

"Didnt I sometimes wish for the pleasure again?" Sometimes, I
confessed, when I heard the music.

"Had I promised for always?" No.

"O well!it was very easy to forget the precise date." I said (here for an instant a flush came) that I had not forgotten it.

We were standing just then by the open lawn and the circle of dancers; andI thinkmy foot stirred a little, answering the measure if a new waltz which the band struck up. In an instant, before I had time to think or speak, he had whirled me off among the crowd. So much taller than I, so much stronger, so skilled a dancer, that at first I could only go where I was taken, obliged to keep the step, in my own self-defence. One hand of course he held; but the otherdid nottouch him. And, presently, I made him let me go. But (we had gone so fast) not till we had taken rather more than one round, I think, I am not quit sure. And I always mean to tell you.The voice fell a little, breaking off short.

She had not looked at him once since he came in; she did not look now, to see how her story was received, but sat still, feeling as if her very life were at stand. His face had changed notably as she went on; its burden of grave care cleared away; his brow grew full of light; the eyebrows came into their wonted line; but Rollos eyes were the eyes of a man whose soul is on fire. He stood breathlessly at first, then sitting down beside the girl got possession of one of her hands, but only so speaking his sympathy or eagerness; till as she finished he brought it to his lips, or rather bowed his lips to it and kissed the little hand over and over. He made no other answer; he said no word at all, till the dark flush which had kindled in his face at her story a little faded away. Then, still holding her hand perhaps unconsciously close, he said, low enough,

And what about the guardianship, Hazel?

The girl was in that state when to withstand or to bear seems equally difficult: there is no strength for either; and the colour which flitted over her face at his demonstrations was less of shyness than of intense feeling. It all went now, at his words.

I thought, she said (the words came too quick, but she could not help it) that you had resigned, Mr. Rollo.

Rollo got the other hand into his keeping, and merely inquired in the same tone what she wanted him to do?

I used to want you to trust me. But it would not be any use now.

Rollos lips touched her hand again, both hands. What about the guardianship, Hazel? he repeated, with a glow and sparkle of the gray eyes, which yet had an odd veil of softness over them. But a man will be a man. I am afraid Rollo was smiling at the same time.

If anything could be called clear in Hazels mind, at that minute of supreme and universal confusion, it was, that belonging to somebody was getting to be much more than an idea. And that Mr. Rollo should merely pay her the compliment of requesting to have the fact put in words, might be highly characteristic on his part, but was not exactly composing on hers. How could she think, or speak, without even one hand free? And droop her head as she might, what could the soft falling hair do, but touch up the beautiful flushes which Hazel felt, if she did not see? Her words, when they came, went to a very self-evident point.

Butif you wanted itwhy did you give it up?

Give upwhat? came with undoubted astonishment from
Rollos lips.

You stayed away said the girl, under her breath.

I have come back. And I want my sentence.

In a sort of desperation, Hazel gathered up her courage, as if realizing that she was face to face with the one question of her life, where she must risk anything but mistakes.

But, she said,but, Mr. Rollo,you did not mean to want it.
When you stayed away.

He laughed. Look here! said he, I want it now, Hazel. Ill stand all your questions, after you have answered mine.

I think mine come first, she said softly,and something of the sorrow which had hung about the questions crept into her voice. Because, there might beat least, there might have beenthings which I could not explain. And thenas you could doubt me once, you would again. And I could not bear that twice! said Hazel, with a sudden quickness which told more than it meant. Nerve herself as she would, her hands were trembling now.

Rollo was not a man of more than average patience, sometimes. Nevertheless, though sorely tempted, he controlled the desire to give her kisses instead of rebukes, and answered quietly and gravely:

I took your own word once against yourself. I will never do it again, Hazel! So take care what you say to me. Have you nothing to say to me now?

If she had, it was not forthcoming.

About the guardianship, Hazel?

She hesitated a littlenot much; thinking of the face she dared not look at, and which she had scarcely seen for a year; answering then with a grave quietness which again was very like herself, where deep feeling was at work; the girlish voice falling and trembling just a little:

If you want ityou can have it, Mr. Rollo.

He took her in his arms then, very tenderly and gravely, kissing her on lips and cheeks with kisses which seemed to tell of a wish to indemnify himselfand her too,for the last three weeks; but then, having got what he wanted, for several minutes thereafter spoke not; partly for his own sake perhaps, partly for hers. A stillness more mighty than words, and quite beyond their sphere. When he did speak again, it was in a different key.

How comes your hair to be wet?

Mine? O! said Hazel, starting,It is nothing but a little water.

No, said Rollo laughing, nothing else. The question is, how came a little water on your hair?

What a question! It was put there. And if you want to know why,
I will tell you. On purpose.

Who did it?

But that answer was slow to come. Gyda, she said at last.

'Gyda!' echoed Rollo, starting up a little, and removing Wych Hazel to a little distance from him, that he might look in her face better. 'For what purpose has Gyda been putting cold water on your hair?'

'O! I was tired when I got here,' Hazel said, trying to look up and laugh, and somehow failing. 'AndandAnd it does not signify the least in the world now.'

Rollo looked at her a minute silently, and then demanded imperiously to know 'what didn't signify?'

'Being faint is nothing,' she said. 'At least, after you have got over it.'

'What made you faint?' in the same tone.

Now Hazel had no mind to go into that; partly for the intrinsic merits of the case, but also with a growing consciousness that with those waves of trouble which had ebbed away so fast her strength was going too. That false strength of tension and self-control, by means of which she had lived and held her head up, through all these last weeks. Even excitement was giving way to reaction; and Hazel dreaded lest, before she knew it, she should break down; lest, before she could hinder it, that wilful fountain of unshed tears might insist on having its way. She knew from old experience what that meant; but (except for the slight specimen before Prim's eyes) nobody had ever seen her in one of her tear-storms, and she did not mean that any one should. And at the same time, belonging to somebody puts hindrances in the way of unseen escape; and the next thing would be, that some tender word or touch would find its way to the very depths which had been so lonely and sweep away all her defences. Then there was the walk! She answered, studying her case,

'I think, two or three things. But let me go now, please, Mr. Rollo.
I must go home,it is late.'

'Let you go?' said he, in a curious, considerative way, as if studying several things.

'Yes,' she said, trying to get ready to get up from her chair. He sat looking at her, then touched again the wet hair. What was he thinking about?

'It seems to me,' he said slowly, 'you must have some of Gyda's porridge before you go.'

'Oh, no!' she said with some eagerness. 'I could not! Just let me go' and she rose up, steadying herself with one hand upon the chair-back. Rollo rose too, but it was to take her in his arms.

'The carriage is not here,' he said, looking at her and noting how well she needed the support he gave.

'Not just hereReo is waiting,' Hazel answered, flushing and drooping her head, and feeling as if every minute took her more and more out of her own reach.

'Where is he waiting?'

'Never mindWhere I left him. O Mr. Rollo! let me go!'

'But you see I must know, if I am to fetch him. Where is he,
Wych?'

'At the foot of the hill.'No use! She could not debate matters, but her head bent lower.

'Reo was not at the foot of the hill when I came.'

'I meanthe other hill.'

'What other hill?'

'Oh!'she said deprecatingly; then went straight through. 'I came the other way.'

'I don't know but one way,' he answered half laughing.

'WellI do.'

'You will have to teach me. But something else must be done first. Come here and sit down again. You can hardly stand. You must rest and have a cup of coffee before I let you go anywhere. What sort of guardianship do you think you have come into?' he said very gently.

He put Wych Hazel in her chair, and then stooped down upon the hearth to lay brands together and coax up the decayed fire. Having made it burn, he turned and took an observation of her face. She had given one eager look after him as he turned away, but now was not looking, apparently, at anything, unless at some hidden point which she was trying to master; for her breath came a little quick, and her hands held each other tight; she was not even leaning back in her chair. And as to resting her head on her hands, Hazel would as soon have dared do anything. Well she knew, that with even that slight veil between her and the outer world, the last remnant of self-command would go. No, she must face it out, somehow, and drink the coffee, and wait. If only Gyda would not come in! And what would she say when she did?'and I could not stop her now,' thought Hazel to herself, 'If I say three words about anything!'She passed her hands over her eyes with a quick gesture, then put them down and held them tight. Could she run away? No, she was not strong enough, if she had the chance. And to be overtaken and brought back!she had tried that once. And all the while, as she sat thinking, these surges of repressed sorrow and joy and everything else that had filled her heart for the last month and the last hour, seemed to be just rolling nearer and nearer, gathering up their force as she lost hers; and how she was to stop them Hazel did not know. Onlyshe must not break down there. Not before him. But the colour left her face again in the struggle.

Rollo needed very small observation to move him to action. The first point was to bring up to the hearth a large wooden chair, half settee, with arms of very ample proportions; looking as if anybody less than a burly old ship-captain or fat landlady would be quite lost and cast away in it. This chair Rollo proceeded to line and partially fill with cushions from whence obtained, was best known to himself; making sundry journeys into an inner room; from which finally he brought a great soft gray shawl, looking suspiciously like a travelling plaid, and laid it over the chair, cushions and all. Taking Wych Hazel's hands then, he softly transferred her from her own chair to this, and placed a cushion under her feet. Then considered her with a grave face and eyes from which no one of average self-confidence would have hoped to conceal anything.

'Where is the carriage?' said he, taking one of the little hands in his own.

'Justin the cross-road.'

'What cross-road? Didn't you come through the Hollow?'

'No.'The word just audible.

He was silent half a minute, considering this statement.

'How did you get here?'

'Over the hill.' Hazel was watching herself jealously, fending off, as it were, the very tones of his voice. But the next step it was hard to fend off. Guessing perhaps part, and with his quick eyes seeing part, Rollo for a few minutes said nothing at all. But his lips came upon Wych Hazel's face with a recognition of what she did not want recognized, and an answering of it, touched and tender and sorrowful, as if he would have kissed it out of existence. 'My little Hazel!' he said at last; and that was all.

The girl struggled hard with herself to bear it. She had ventured that one look as he went to the fire, but had known instantly that she must not risk another; and then, somehow, she had controlled her voice to answer his questions, and had nerved her face when he placed her in the cushioned chair. But if he had turned her defences!and, with that, Hazel gave way. She caught her hand from him, and turning half round laid her head and hands upon the chair, and let the flood come she had kept back so bravely. Sobbing, as perhaps it had never entered his mind that anybody could sob; her head bent as if one wave after another was going right over it. A spring freshet after the winter frost, telling a little what the ice had been.

Rollo's life had been a good deal of himself alone. Prim was all the sister he had ever known, and nearly all the mother too; unless Gyda might have the better claim to that title. All the readier, perhaps, he was able to deal with this burst of thoroughly natural passion, thoroughly womanish as it also was. His point of view had not been spoiled by feminine pettinesses. He took this paroxysm of what it was; something that must in the first instance have its way and work its own relief. He did not speak to Hazel at first, nor attempt to check the outflow of feeling which he contemplated with a very grave brow. Indeed for a minute or two he left the room and went out to speak to Gyda. Coming back, he remained quite silent and still until the first violence of tears had spent itself; then he sat down by Wych Hazel's side and began a series of mute testimonials that he was there, and that he had entered upon his life-long right to share and soothe whatever troubles concerned her. His hand upon her hand, or upon her hair, or on her cheek; and then her name half-whispered in her ear in a grieved tone of voice.

'I did not mean' she said at last, trying for words. 'O you should have let me go!I knew, I knew!'

Precisely what, Hazel dared not think; but perhaps, the idea that he was learning anything about her, was as good a tonic as she could have had just then. She came back to her quiet bearing very fast, pushing her other self out of sight, locking it up and sealing it down, and setting her little foot upon it with extraordinary vehemence of purpose. Rollo did nothing to hinder this operation. Indeed he rather left her to herself, while he as usual made himself busy in helping Gyda, who came in to get her table ready. Rollo drew the table up into Wych Hazel's neighbourhood, and when it was set, took upon himself the oversight of Gyda's pot of coffee, which was on the coals before the fire. He seemed to be quite at home in the business; and smiling up at Wych Hazel as he stooped to his cookery, asked her "if she liked the smell of coffee?"

'Yes, I think so,' she answered, not too sure of anything in the world just then.

'Never smelt it before, perhaps?'

The lips gave way, but the smile so nearly turned into trembling, that Hazel checked them both together.

'I don't believe you know how to make it.'

'Well' said Hazel somewhat vaguely, from under her shadowing hands.

'That's a gentle confession of ignorance. Here comes Gyda, and porridge. What else is to bring, Gyda?'

He went off, and came back in another minute with his hands full. Porridge and flad-brod and cheese and cream and broiled fish were set on the table; the coffee was at the fire. Rollo stood a moment surveying things, the old woman by the table, the little woman in the chair.

'You may kiss her hand, Gyda,' he said, in a tone that implied everything.

Hazel received this announcement and its consequences with a great flush. Only, with the way she had of putting some pretty grace into the most disturbing things, the little fingers locked themselves round Gyda's furtively, for a second, so giving the recognition which she could not speak. And Gyda was too gently wise to say a word. After that, both combined to wait upon Hazel, though Gyda did not get a chance to do much. And Hazel tried hard to obey injunctions and eat porridge, principally because it gave her something to do; but her performance was unsatisfactory, except in the matter of coffee, which she drank rather eagerly.

'Now,' said Rollo, 'tell me where to find Reo.'

'Where?'with a swift up-look, almost too swift to see,'why!' And then Hazel remembered to her confusion, that she did not know. 'II supposehe would have brought me to the nearest point. Of course.'

As no doubt Reo would, if he had known where she was going! That thought confronted her next; and with a dim consciousness of having stopped the carriage at a venture, for fear he should know, Hazel began again:

'At least,'. But there was no going on from that point. 'Is it very far along the foot of the hill?' she ventured, without any look this time.

'I should say,' returned Rollo gravely, 'it might be about some five miles.'

Hazel leaned her head on her hand and tried to recollect,and nothing stood out from all that morning's work but the pain and the difficulty and the fatigue.

He sat down and took the little hand again.

'Which way did you come over the hill, Wych?'

'I do not know.'If it must come, it must!'I was thinking only of getting up; and you know there are not many landmarks. At least, I do not remember any.'

'Did you come through the wood?'

'No. I am sure of that.'

'Then did you come east or west of it?'

'I do not remember the wood at all,' said Hazel, feeling very much ashamed of herself. 'I was not looking. But there were no houses I am sure of that.'

'What did you see, Hazel?' softly.

'I think, of all people to cross-examine one!' said the girl, in her extremity sending a little bit of her old self to the front. 'I am certain I can find the way, Mr. Rollo, without the trouble of considering what I did not see, or what I did.'

'May I venture to ask, what orders you gave Reo?'

'The usual orders; to wait till I came.'

Rollo laughed a little, but if his face did not mean that he understood the whole matter, it did not mean anything. It was very grave, though he laughed.

He went off, and left Wych Hazel again to herself, with only Gyda moving about and keeping up the fire. It was a full mile over the hill to the cross-road where the carriage was standing, and Hazel had a good time of quiet all to herself. As once before that day, she had looked up the moment Rollo turned and so watched him out of sight. And now Hazel sat among her cushions, her head down against the side of her chair, looking into the winking embers with very grave wide-open eyes. Mentally, she knew there had come a great lull over all troublous things; a lull which she was not just then strong enough to disturb by handling it in detail. But physically, she felt shattered, and very little able to practise self- defence; and she began to long to get home, and by herself, where no keeping-up of any sort would be needful. One thing was yet to do, however. So when Gyda had ended her work and sat down at the corner of the hearth, Hazel left her cushions and knelt down beside her.

'Mrs. Boërresen'she said with a hand on her arm, her face upraised.

'My lady,' said Gyda, turning her bright eyes upon Hazel with a happy look.

'You will not tell him anything of all this? my coming, and all about it? And what I said?'

'No need,' said Gyda placidly. 'My lady will tell it herself.'

A very resolved little gesture of the girl's head dismissed that statement. She was silent a minute.

'And then,' she began again, more hesitatingly, 'at least you will not speak of it. Norofa year ago?'

'Last year?' said Gyda. 'When my lady came here before? That was not for him to know. That was only me alone. To-day my lady will tell him about, when she pleases.' And Gyda smiled over this statement benignly.

Hazel leaned her head against Gyda's arm gazing down into the firelight; it seemed to her to-day as if she had to think over anything a great many times to get used to it. She must be tired. The afternoon light was waning fast when the quick step outside was heard again, and Rollo came in. He surveyed the group quietly, and then went off to his room to change his dress. And when he returned to relieve the guard, it was with a most composed and unexciting manner. He scarcely said three words, till a boy brought the message that the carriage was waiting in the Hollow. Then he wrapped the great plaid shawl round Hazel, for the evening had fallen chill and her dress was thin, and they went out into the dusky twilight for the walk down to the carriage.

Dusky, and yet clear; a cloudless depth of sky out of which stars were brightening; a still air with almost a breath of frost in it; outlines of the Hollow hills darkly drawn against the soft twilight sky; the silence of evening, when mill-work was done, over all and in everything. Rollo did not speak, and they heardif they heardonly the sound of their own steps down the path. When they were in the carriage, Rollo presently, with a gentle word, untied Wych Hazel's flat hat and took it off; drew a corner of the shawl over her head, and putting his arm round her made her lay down her head upon his shoulder and lean upon him.

'But Mr. Rollo' said Hazel timidly, finding that her acted remonstrance had no effect.

'What?'

'I am quite able to sit up.'

'I have no faith whatever in that statement.'

'If you will let me trythe other,'Hazel began.

'The other shoulder?'

But the answer to that tarried. Hazel knew perfectly well that if she spoke in the first minute she would laugh; which was not at all according to her present system of tactics. And in the second, her words were not ready, and by the time the third came it was rather too late. So silence reigned, while Reo sent the horses along, over the level smooth road, and the evening air came in crisp and fresh at the open window, and stars looked down winking in their quiet way of saying sweet things. They always do, when one is happy; sometimes in other states of mind they seem high above sympathy. But to-night they looked down at Hazel confidentially, and crickets and nameless insects chirruped along by the roadside; and on and on the carriage rolled, mile after mile. Rollo was as still as the stars, almost. And so was Wych Hazel, for a long time; still as anything could be that lived. Suddenly a question broke from her.

'What was it you were going to say to me?'

'When?' The word came with a ring of many thoughts, through which a grave tenderness most vibrated.

'You said, that was the best time. And you did not take it,' said
Hazel.

'Hush,' said he softly and gravely. 'All has been said; except that I shall never forgive myself, Hazel.'