The Gold of Chickaree

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

CHAPTER VIII.

ACORNS AND ACORN-CUPS.

One afternoon, a day or two later, Rollo had begged for a walk in the woods; proposing that they should 'begin to get acquainted with each other.' The trees were beginning to shew crimson and gold and brown and purple, and the October light wove all hues into one regal drapery of nature, not richer than it was harmonious. The warm air was spicy; pines and hemlocks gave out resinous sweetness, and ferns and lichens and mosses and other wild things lent their wild wood flavour. It was rare in the Chickaree woods that day. Fallen leaves rustled under foot, squirrels chattered in the branches, partridges whirred away. Down through the shadow and the light they went, those two, talking irregularly of all sorts of things. Rollo was skilled in all wild wood lore and very fond of it. He could talk deliciously on this theme, and he did; telling Wych Hazel about trees and woodwork and hunter's sports and experiences, and then of lichens and the rocks they grew on.

Into the depths of the ravine they plunged, and then over a ridge into another; away from paths and roads and the possibility of wheels and riders. Then Rollo found a mossy dry bank where Wych Hazel might sit down and rest, with her back against the stem of a red oak. He roved about gathering acorns under the wide spreading boughs of the tree, and finally came and threw himself down at her feet.

'This is pleasant,' he said, looking along the brown slope, brown with mosses and fallen leaves, on which the wonderful light came so richly and so tenderly. 'This is pleasant! Is the sense of possession a strong one with you?'

'I love my woodsdearly! I never had much elsethat was my ownto care about.'

'I believe it is strong in me. I can enjoy other people's thingsbut I think I like them better when they are my own. I fancy it is a man's weakness.'

'What did you mean by "beginning to get acquainted?" ' said Hazel, from under the protecting shadow of her broad hat, and with her mind so full of unanswered questions that it seemed as if some of them must come out, even if they did get her into difficulties. 'I thought you thought you knew me pretty thoroughly.'

He rolled himself over on the bank, so that he could look up at her comfortably, and answered laughing,

'What did you think about me?'

'O I knew about you,' said Hazel.

'How long ago?'

'Different things at different times. Mr. Rollo,'with a little blush and hesitation,'will you tell me how you knew the size of my finger?'

'Let me look at it.' And he took the little hand, tried the ring up and down the finger, kissed it, and finally let it go.

'It fits' was all his remark.

If that is the way you are always ready to help me!Hazel thought. But as no such idea could venture out, and as the next question that stood ready was altogether too much "in line," a squirrel up in the tree had it all to himself for a few minutes. Rollo waited for the next question to come, but as it tarried he remarked quietly,

'You may remember, I had a glove of yours in my possession.'

'You. Where did you get it?'

'I picked it up. I have often done that for ladies' gloves;but I never kept one before.'

'You picked it up?' Hazel repeated slowly. 'I never lose my gloves. And you are not one of those silly people who steal them. Where did you pick it up, Mr. Rollo?'

A sort of shadow crossed his face, as he answered, 'One nightin the woodswhere it was a mere little point of light in the gloom.'

'O!' she said eagerly, looking up,'did you? that night? I remember. And you kept it. Then, Mr. Rollo?' The soft, surprised intonation of the last three words left them anything but incoherent.

'Well?' said he smiling.

'I wish I had known you had it. That glove gave me a great deal of trouble.'

'Why?'

'I was so much afraid it had got into the wrong hands. But when was this done?' she said, eyes and words going back to the ring again. 'Not sincethe other day?'

'Hardly! No. It was done last winter.' And Rollo's eyes flashed and laughed at her, a kind of soft lightning. Hazel laughed the least bit too, in return; but then her head went down as low as it gracefully could, and under the shadow of her broad hat she questioned. Had she betrayed herself then, to him? What has she said? what had she done, that night? Her face rested on her hand in the very attitude of perplexity.

'Come,' said Rollo, 'you are finding out a good deal about me that you did not know before. You had better go on.'

'Did you buy up the whole Hollow?' said Hazel abruptly. 'All the way from the mills up to Gyda'sMrs. Boërresen'scottage?'

'No,' said Rollo, with a somewhat surprised recognition of the change of subjects; 'not yet. I have obtained possession only of the mills which were held by Morton himself. Those are the two cotton mills, and one of the woollen mills, which had lately reverted to him from the closing of the lease term and the inability of the former lessee to make any agreement for a new one. Further down the Hollow below me, lie the woollen mills of Paul Charteris.'

'And there is nothing above you yet, but the water and the land?'

'No. Nor like to be. The head of the valley is owned by Gov.
Powder; and he has neither means nor inclination to do anything
with it. It would be better for me to own it, though. Why,
Hazel?'with a smile.

'Why had you better own it?'

'I want to get control of the whole Hollow as fast as I can; and then, I want to keep the control.'

'Well, but why don't you then?' said Hazel. 'What is the use of waiting?'

'I am not ready to build more mills yet. And there are other reasons, Hazel. Mr. Falkirk thinks I am jeopardizing my money. I do not think so, nor intend it. I believe in the long run I shall prosper. But for the present, and for awhile, I shall be at a disadvantage, it may be; because I am paying larger wages and receiving less profits than my neighbours, and I must keep capital free to bear me and my workmen out through the time of trialif it is to come. I mean never to have so much capital embarked in the mills, that I should have nothing to carry my hands and myself through a dead calm. You see' Rollo continued with again a smile,'being a careful navigator, I mean to carry the wind in my pocket.'

Hazel followed his words with attentive eyes as well as ears, and then went off into a brown study, with her chin on her hand.

'Well,' said Rollo, 'what is all this catechism for?'

'It is good practice,' she said, coming out of her abstraction with a laugh. 'I suppose you never knew before that there are two sides to a catechism?'

'Go on,' said Rollo. 'This is the beginning.'

'Beginningof what?'

'My catechism.'

'It is the end of it, for the present. But it seems to me, Mr. Rollo, that is, I know it seems to you that I am talking great nonsense,' said Hazel breaking off again. 'Do you live up at Mrs. Boërresen's all the time?'

'For the most partexcept when I take a run down to my old home. But yes, I live at Gyda's.'

Unspoken questions came up in her eyes, but the words came not, and the eyes themselves went down to the crimson leaf she was thoughtfully drawing through her fingers. Rollo was silent too. Half sitting half lying on the leafy slope, he was busying himself with gathering together all the acorns and acorn-cups within his reach, examining them carefully one by one, and yet with a face that grew grave and became abstracted. More time passed than he knew probably, and Hazel had leisure to come out of her own abstractions and wonder at his. He did not look as if he remembered her presence; and yet a sensible woman has no objection to such indications in a man's face,even a man that loves her,as Hazel saw now; the grave purpose, the manly power, the thoughtful reserve. When at last he spoke and looked up, he was grave still.

'Have you any idea what you are to expect, Hazel?'

'Expect!'Then rather slowly, 'I believe I am not given to expectations.'

Then he smiled, but went on, 'Do you remember our talk that evening, last winter?'

'Of course.'

'Then you know in what service I have taken a commission?'

'I know.'

The quiet reserved voice seemed suddenly to lose its flexibility, and the crimson leaf came fluttering down from between her fingers.

'Are you content, Hazel? This fact will make my life more or less what people call singular.'

'But you were always called that,' she said without looking at him.

'Was I? It will be in another way now, Wych. How will you like it?'

'It? your life?very well, I suppose. If I like you,' she answered frankly, though in the same deliberate, abstracted way.

'But a soldier must obey orders, and has no choice. Are you content to go with me, upon such conditions?'

She turned upon him with eyes that seemed half inquiry, half surprise, her colour flitting back and forth in its vivid way. Then she rose suddenly to her feet, and setting her back against the tree and dropping her folded hands, stood looking down at him.

'Will you tell me exactly what you mean?' she said.

He rose too and stood beside her.

'It would never do for me to go one way, and my wife another.'

From under the shield of her drooping hat Hazel answered. 'Suppose you have to meet that difficulty? Suppose I should say I am not content?'

'I will tell you, when you have said it.'

'No,' she said,'before. I am not content with anything till you do.'

'I should know in that case I had something to do, Hazel.'

'That is waiving the question.'

'No, for that something would beto make you willing.'

She unclasped her hands, putting behind her round the tree.

'How, Mr. Rollo?'

'I suppose'demurely'I should use my influence.'

'Twenty questions!' said Hazel. 'If I were not content, it would show that you had not much influence to use.'

'Are you content, Hazel?'

'How are you going to be singular?' she said abruptly.

'It's my turn'said he smiling, 'Hazel, are you content?'

'But you always ask suchunreasoningquestions.'

'Give me a reasonable answer."

'I am never anything but reasonable,' she said; 'it is you. You want to know if I am content to have you true to yourself,that is about the point, is it not? I think, on the whole, I am.'

'Will you help me?'

'So far as I can. But remember, that may not be very far.'

'I want your help a dozen ways at this moment.'

'Would you like to specify just a few?'

'You will see, as soon as you begin to get the run of what I am doing. I want counselI want coöperation. I want you to set me upon some of the woman's work that a man does not readily find out for himself. I am going to take you off to the Hollow as soon as you are quite strong enough.'

'I should think you would prefer to have me set myself upon the "woman's work," ' said Wych Hazel.

He smiled provokingly and observed that there was enough for her and him too.

'Well' said Hazel, with a certain postponement in her voice.

'Well, what?'

'There is no "what" in sight at present, Mr. Rollo.'

'I shall have to give you lessons severely! Look at that acorn.
Don't you like acorns?'

'Very much. But best, I think, in the spring, when they are struggling into life,shooting up and shooting down,shewing their possibilities. They are lovely then, with their little crumpled pink leaves.'

'That's the next stage. I want to make my life like that acorn as it is now, full rounded to its utmost fruitage. So many lives are like these empty cups,with the fruit lost.'

Hazel balanced one of the cups on the tip of her finger, thoughtfully. 'I suppose they are,' she said. 'Good for nothing but to look at.'

'Do you think such lives good to look at?'

'Sometimes pretty to look at. Just as this cup is, till you remember that it is empty.'

'Hazel, did you study the lesson I gave you last winter?'

'I have studied it. Yes.'

'And the result? '

Looking down at the olive moss tufts at her feet, she answered, slowly,

'I am notquitesure.'

'You can talk just as well if you are resting,' said Rollo; and he pulled her down to her place again, and threw himself on the bank beside her. 'Now go on,' he said, 'and tell me all about it.'

But "all about it" was a great deal. As the fireside musings, the long night watches, the fears and questionings and perplexities came up one by one and flung their shadows over her face, Hazel answered,

'No, I cannot do that.'

'I am the very person to help your perplexities.'

'But that is assuming you know what they are!'

'Never mind. You will find it is rue. What makes the confusion,
Wych?'

The voice was a temptation; manly and clear, and thrilled through with a hidden tenderness in the last words. Rollo was not studying her face, but piling up his acorns on the ground between them.

'Everything helped make it.'

'Yes. Well?'

'It was not "well" at all,' said Hazel. 'I do not like tangles. And this was unmitigated. I could not pull out one single smooth thread, and present it for your inspection, Mr. Rollo.'

'Unpractical,' said Rollo. 'Make some statement of what you do know.'

'Statements are not precisely in my line,' said Hazel. 'And I am not the least in the habit of telling all I know.'

'Hitherto.'

Hazel did not immediately answer. She sat watching the heap of acorns and the hand that was arranging them, a quiet smile upon her lips. What had she said to Josephine about "diamonds from a hand that you do not love"?whereas even acorns, from a hand that

With a sudden scarlet flush she turned away, and bending down on the other side, began to gather mosses on her own account.

'Come, Hazel,' said her companion'the tangle has got to be encountered, and I think we shall go into it most safely together.'

'I could not tell you,' she said, 'and you could not tell me. Nobody but oneself can disentangle "why" and "whether" and "what".'

Rollo cast a quick glance up at her, which probably brought him all the intelligence he wanted; for he only remarked audaciously that she 'would know better some day.'

'I could not make you understand, Mr. Rollo. And unless you understood, you would just think there could not be room in my head for a single spark of sense.'

'You don't know what I think of your head. Wellif you see a little shoot of confidence in me starting up in your mind, encourage it, Hazel!'

'I shall never see it, Mr. Rollo.'

'Nor encourage it, of course. WellI am in a bad way.'

'Things pass the acorn stage, you know,' she said, laughing a little.

'Yes. Do you remember my having once had the honour to remark to you, that I objected to be treated as an old guardian?'

'No,' said Hazel,'you asked me if I expected to do it. But perhaps that meant the same thing in those days.'

'Perhaps it did. What do you think of it in these days?'

Hazel made a sudden transition.

'Will you like to come and go chestnutting in these woods, Mr. Rollo? The Powders all say that I promised them such a day, though I am sure I do not remember it.'

'I don't remember it,' said Rollo lazily.

'As you were not here when I am said to have made the promise, I do not see how you should. But it is needful I should ask you, or Mr. Falkirk will askas he did once before upon you non- appearanceif you have offended me.'

'Is the day fixed?'

'No. But they say I have promised.'

'Then there's no help for it, I know. Hazelwhen you and I had a ride home in the dark one night, a year ago, did I misunderstand you then?'

Silence, instant and deep. Hazel took some time to frame her answer.

'What did you understand?'

The supreme flash of Rollo's eyes was instantly hidden by the lowered eyelids; and there was no laughter even in his voice as he answered,

'We understand each other now.'

They took their way home again through the glowing woodland and warm, still air, slowly and lingeringly. Near the house, Dane asked when Wych Hazel would go to the Hollow?

'The first day I can. Perhaps I had better wait one day more.'

'To-day is Friday. Yes, and I cannot be here to-morrow, either.'

'It is one of your busy days?'

'One of my busy days, and nights. It is my Exhibition evening. I cannot come here Sunday, either, Hazel. Monday you will be fit for a ride; and we will lunch with Gyda.'

'I was invited to go to the Reading Saturday night!' said Hazel with a half laugh, 'and I refused.'

'You had better. Don't you come, to complicate matters.'

'What should I complicate!I am the most straightforward person going.'

'I am getting too much distinguished society. But I want to talk to you about that institution, Hazel. I have a great deal to talk to you about. It is very singular that you have nothing to say to me.'

Arrived at the house, Dane lingered awhile in the red room, surveying its pretty tokens of pretty life, where among other things the two little Catskill sketches in dainty wooden frames hung upon the walls; but he refused an invitation to stay and dine with Mr. Falkirk.

'I cannot. Wych, I must get to the Hollow before the mills are closed.'

She gave him a grave, wistful look, but said nothing.

'I shall open a shorter cut, across fields, between here and the Hollow. It might save four or five miles. Gov. Powder owns some of the ground, the Kingslands, and I think one or two more, have the rest. I can easily manage it. Twelve miles is too far between you and me,' he added smiling.

'Yes.'

He stood looking at her; perhaps considering what the proper distance would be, or rather not be; and also probably thinking that it was too soon to trouble her with that question, for he presently came forward silently to bid her good-bye, and was off.

Miss Wych was still for a few minutes, till the last hoof-beat had died away, and then began slowly to mount the stairs. And as the tired little feet went on, one step at a time, of a sudden she burst forth into one of her scraps of songthe first time for many a long day. Apparently her talk with Josephine the other day, was still running in her head, for these were the words that came:

"His very tread has music in't,

"As he comes up the stair."

'I wonder what sort of stair-carpets they have in that part of Scotland!' she said to herself. And then suddenly realizing how very full-fledged her thoughts had become, Hazel blushed furiously, all alone as she was, and rushed up the remaining stairs so fast, that there was nothing for it but to drop into the nearest chair and take a lecture from Mrs. Bywank, before she was able to get ready for Mr. Falkirk and dinner.

The most remarkable thing about Miss Kennedy's dress lately, was that her fingers were so loaded with rings that the very glare would have hindered Mr. Falkirk's distinguishing any particular splendour.