The Gold of Chickaree

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

CHAPTER V.

ASLEEP AND AWAKE.

Wych Hazel went to her room so utterly spent, so completely prostrate, that even Phoebe could not talk during her ministrations; nor dared Mrs. Bywank find fault. Why Miss Wych must needs tire herself to death, over nobody knows what, was a trial to the good housekeeper's patience as well as her curiosity; but for that night the only thing was to let her sleep. It was the only thing next day. The reaction, once fairly set in, was strong in proportion to the causes which had prepared for it and brought it about; and Wych Hazel lay in a motionless stupor of sleep, from which nothing could rouse her up. She would open her eyes perhaps, and answer a question, but anything more than that was plainly beyond her strength; and for three days and three nights she lay, as helpless as a little child. "Sleeping her life out," Phoebe said, and certainly frightening Mrs. Bywank half to death; but in reality passing safely out from under the mortal illness that had hung over her by a thread.

And so, on the fourth morning after the day of events, Hazel did fairly wake up, and dress herself, and go down stairs; devoutly hoping that nobody but Mr. Falkirk might come to breakfast, and extremely ready to dispense with him.

Wrapping herself in the soft folds of a crimson morning dress, which at least would keep her in countenance; her face more delicate than pale; her step rather hesitating than slow; her thoughts in a maze of dreamland as misty and bright and shy as the morning sunbeams that went everywhere and just kept out of reach. What had happened before these three days, that, Hazel knew well enough. But what had happened since that? Had Jeannie Deans been here, with her master?and not finding the lady of the house on hand, had they then gone straight to Mr. Falkirk? And if so, what was his probable state of mind?did he know? or guess? And how many more times had her other guardian come to Chickaree? and what had he thought of the tidings about her? and at what unexpected point of the day or the minute was she to meet him, on a sudden? Her step lingered on the last stairwent noiselessly along the hall; and then the next thing Mr. Falkirk knew, was a light hand on his shoulder and a soft

'Good-morning, sir.'

'My dear!' said Mr. Falkirk suddenly rising, 'I am very glad to see you.' And he took her hand, which was not common, and looked at her as if to convince himself that all was right.

'Are you, sir?' she said with a laugh. 'You are sure it is not a hallucination, Mr. Falkirk?'

'I am sure of nothing, Miss Hazel, except that I see you. At my time of life, confidence in any conclusions is somewhat shaken. What has been the matter with you?'

'I have been having my own way, sir,which has agreed with me
admirably,' returned Miss Hazel with an arch of her eyebrows.
'There is nothing like it, I find. Will you come to breakfast, Mr.
Falkirk?'

Her guardian cast two or three rather inquiring looks at her; but seeing that she undoubtedly was well, and probably had not been ill, he contentedly and unsuspiciously, man-like, dismissed the subject and came to breakfast as she bade him.

'It is so long since I had my own way,' he remarked dryly, 'I have forgotten how it feels. Your state of serene satisfaction is unknown to me. How long do you intend to keep it up, Miss Hazel?'

'Until some restless person puts it to flight, sir, I suppose. That is the usual fate of my serene states, as you call them.'

'It occurs to me,' Mr. Falkirk went on, 'that in our recent search after fortune and in the general hallucination which in such a search prevails, I am a good honest big Newfoundland dog transformed into the present shape for the more efficient performance of the duty of barking round his mistress. I feel that to be about my present status and dignity, plainly expressed.'

'The way gentlemen make statements!' said Wych Hazel. 'Perhaps you are aware, sir, who brought me home here, a month ago, when I did not want to come?'

'I don't remember it,' said Mr. Falkirk. 'I only remember who took me to all the watering-places on the continentwhere I didn't want to go. I should like to be informed, Miss Hazel, when the search after fortune is to endwhen I may reasonably hope to resume my own shape again? You may not suppose it; but barking tries a man's powers.'

'I had not perceived it, sir. On the contrary, your voice has been particularly sonorous of late.'

'Are you aware it is the first of October, Miss Hazel?'

'Time for chestnuts, isn't it?' said the girl. 'I had forgotten all bout them.'

'There are other nuts to crack besides chestnuts. The owner of the house you had last winter has written to ask if you want it again this year.'

'Talk of the restlessness of women!' said Hazel. 'Here are we but just settled in the country, and Mr. Falkirk already proposing to return to town.'

'I don't know what you are,' said Mr. Falkirk, 'but I am not settled. Of course, coming home at the end of the season, I have no cook; and Gotham informs me that the kitchen chimney smokes. I should think it did, to judge by the condition of my beefsteaks.'

'I am very sorry, sir! Suppose you condescend to my beefsteaks until the cook and the smoke change places? The blue room is in perfect orderand would suit your state of mind,' said Miss Wych, eyeing Mr. Falkirk with an air of deep gravity. 'Then there is always Europe'

'Is that the next thing!' exclaimed Mr. Falkirk, with a positively alarmed air. 'I have been expecting it.'

'I wanted to go last year, you know, sir,and (if nobody said anything against it) I think I should write at once and secure my passage.'

'To what quarter of the world, miss Hazel?'

'We might go round, sir; and stop where things promised fairest.'

'We might. Then I am to understand you do not like the promise of things at Chickaree?'

'What do you take to be the promise of things here, at present, Mr.
Falkirk?'

'Quite beside the question, Miss Hazel. Am I to tell this man you don't want the house in Fiftieth street?'

'I should prefer another house, I think,' said Hazel gravely. 'Mr. Falkirk, I had a letter from Kitty Fisher this morning, and she sends you her love.'

Mr. Falkirk gave an inarticulate grumble.

'You may throw it back to her, my dear; her own love is all she cares about; and as I don't care about it, we are suited. Do I understand that you wish me to look for another house, then?'

'I did hint at Europe,'said Wych Hazel. 'But if it amuses you to look for houses, sir, I have no sort of objection.'

Mr. Falkirk laid down his knife and fork, and looked across the table.

'It don't amuse me to look for anything in a fog, my dear. Do you want to go to Europe?'

'O well, we need not go this week, sir! Shall I invite all the neighbourhood to a grand chestnutting, when Kitty Fisher comes?'

'Miss Hazel, that girl is not proper company for you. I hope you will not ask her to help in your merrymakings; she understands nothing but a romp. And, my dear, if you know your own mind I wish you would be so kind as to let me know it. To go to Europe this fall, you must be off in three weeks at latest. Have you spoken to Rollo about it?'

'Truly, I have not!' said Wych Hazel, with a glow which however Mr. Falkirk charged to displeasure. 'Did you ever know me speak to him about anything connected with my own affairs, sir?'

'I don't know, my dear. He has a word to say concerning them. Do you wish me to sound him on the subject, then?'

'Did you ever succeed in "sounding" him, sir? on any subject?' said the young lady, consulting her watch, and with all her senses on the alert for interruptions. What were 'business' hours at Morton Hollow, she wondered? Then she rose up, and passing round to Mr. Falkirk, gave him a smile that was very sweet and not a bit teasing.

'I must go and rest, sir. I find sitting up tires me to-day. But you will come to dinner?'

She went off with that quick step, betaking herself to the crimson room; for to-day Hazel seemed to prefer high-coloured surroundings. There sat for awhile before the great picture, thinking of many things; and there, still down on her foot cushion, laid her head in one of the easy chairs and went to sleep; with the gray cat dozing and purring in the same chair, close by her head. Only the cat's eyelashes were not wet, and Wych Hazel's were.