The Gold of Chickaree

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

CHAPTER XXXI.

NOVICE WORK.

Mrs. Coles did not improve her position next day. 'What nights does Sacchi-süssi sing?' she asked, when Rollo had left the three ladies alone. Hazel answered that she had not noticed.

'They say she is wonderful, and beautiful, and everything. Do you suppose Dane will take us, if we ask him nicely?'

'I do not go.'

'To the opera? My dear! Not at all?'

'Not at all.'

'But why?'

Wych Hazel stood thinking. She was very shy of declaring herselfyet sometimes it must be done.

'A few years ago,' she said slowly, 'when the war was going on, two gentlemen came one night to see Mr. Falkirk. They told war stories; and I with my book of some study in my hand, sat still and listened. One story was this. A mutual friend of all the parties had laid the United States flag down in her drawing room as a floor- cloth, to be trodden under foot. Then the other gentleman spoke out and said his wife would not enter that house again while the war lasted! Mrs. Colesat the opera and the theatre my flag is under foot.'

'Your flag!' said the lady in amazement.

'Yes,' Hazel answered with her colour stirring. 'You know what service I have sworn into.'

'I don't see where the flags come in,' said Mrs. Coles.

Hazel answered softly, gazing into the fire,"Thou hast given a banner to thy chosen, that it may be displayed because of the truth."

'Then you mean to say,' broke out Mrs. Coles with a rising colour of her own tinging the pale face, 'that no Christians ever go to the theatre!'

'Do they carry their flag aloft there?' said Wych Hazel. 'Are they marching to victory under its folds? I could not carry mine. It would be trailing, drooping, union-down!'

'Prue, Prue,' said Primrose, 'you know what papa always says.'

'Papa does not know the world!' said Mrs. Coles, waving that down. 'And how about your favourite German?' she said, returning to the charge against Wych Hazel with equal ire and curiosity.

Wych Hazel answered again, still looking into the fire,

' "No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier." '

The girl spoke so "at liberty,"there was such freedom in the loyalty, the folds of the banner waved so gladly above her head, Mrs. Coles looked and hesitated. Then, spying as she thought a joint in the armour, so to speak, she sent out an arrow.

'And you call that a good marching uniform, I suppose,' she said derisively, with a comprehensive glance that went from head to foot.

Wych Hazel faced round upon her with eyes wide open at first in displeased astonishment. But in a moment another look came, startled, wondering, as when one finds a sudden unlooked-for clue. Was that it? Wych Hazel said to herself. Had it been left to Mrs. Coles to tell her? "A good marching uniform?"Wych Hazel thought she knew better now than ever before "what to do about dress."

The ladies were going out, and the subject dropped. The morning was filled with out-of-door business. At luncheon Mrs. Coles declared herself fatigued and disposed to rest at home. She fondly hoped the afternoon would be made lively by visiters; and to her wish, so it was.

Among others came Miss Annabella Powder. This young lady had not been wont to seem so fond of Hazel's society as the other members of her family; indeed she rarely made her appearance at Chickaree more frequently than civility demanded. To-day, however, she made a long visit. It was not that she seemed to be enjoying herself; she went languidly through a prolonged conversation with Mrs. Coles, who had an endless number of questions to ask about the winter, and especially about her pretty sister Mrs. Charteris; with a latent view to supplemental information also about Rollo and his wife, if such were to be had. Annabella answered at random, made Mrs. Coles desperate, was bored; and yet did not go away. At last she seized a chance and moved to a seat beside Hazel. It was at a time when several other people were present and just then engaged more or less with each other and a common subject. Annabella had never been intimate with Hazel. Therefore it was the more noticeable when with depressed voice and somewhat hurried emphasis she said,

'I want to speak to youI want to say a word.How can I?'

'In this window' said Wych Hazel leading the way. 'They are miles deep in Miss Burr's engagement.'

In the window was a most beautiful hyacinth. The two ladies stood, one on this side and one on the other side, and spoke,not about floriculture.

'I have no time here,' Annabella began breathlessly, bending down to put her nose to the beautiful buff bells, which were sweet enough at a greater distance. 'I want to see you alone, Mrs. Rollo. You were always so kindWhen can I? I have a great deal to say. Could you go and drive with me by and by? I don't know what other way'

'It must be to-morrow, then,' said Hazel, straightening the stick which supported the heavy head of flowers. 'To-day I am promised to Mrs. Coles.'

'To-morrow, then? You are so kind, Mrs. Rollo!and you are the only personAt three o'clock, then? and I will come in mamma's carriage. You wont speak of it?'

'I never give such promises,' said Wych Hazel.

'But'Annabella's eye went anxiously to Mrs. Coles.

'Discretion is stronger than bonds.'

'And you are very discreet?' said the girl trying to laugh. 'Well, I must trust you. But don't let any one know you are going out with me!'

The next day Mrs. Coles was engaged to luncheon with a friend and took Primrose with her. They had not returned when Miss Powder came for Hazel, and the two ladies drove off in security. It was not a day for a pleasure drive. Clouds hung low and grey; the air had been keen and raw, with snow in its course somewhere. Now it had become suspiciously milder. But neither lady was thinking of pleasure.

'You are very good, Mrs. Rollo!' said Annabella, who evidently had some difficulty in commanding herself, and was very unlike her usual statuesque manner. For she was a handsome girl, of the Madonna type, and either by temperament or for policy had long adopted a calm style to match. To-day it was broken up.'I am very much obliged to you!' she went on. 'I did not know whom to speak to, and I must get somebody to help me. And Josephine used to think so much of you; I thought she would mind you if anybody. I couldn't ask mammamamma don't know. O what shall I do?' And with this most honest cry of despair, poor Annabella broke down.

Hazel asked what was the matter? under the wild idea for a moment that Miss Powder had found her heart and then rashly broken it.

'Nobody knows' the girl began again, trying to get the better of her agitation; 'it has not come out yet; nobody suspects; and I thoughtif you could hinder it! If you cannot, there is no one that can. Mamma has no idea. And it would just kill her to know. She thinks it is all right. Poor mamma!'

'But what am I to hinder?' said Wych Hazel.

'Have you seen Josephine lately?'

'Yes.'

'Didn't she seem like herself?'

'Extremely like herself.'

'So she did when I saw her. And her house,did you see her house?it was so nicely arranged and so pretty; and I thought she was so happy'

'I never thought that,' said Wych Hazel.

'I did. I thought she had got what she wanted; we all thought so.
Nobody married this year had a better establishment than
Josephine; not one.'

'She got what she married for,' said Hazel; 'but Josephine's "wants" were larger than that.'

'Were they?' said Annabella drearily. 'I didn't know it. I don't see how they could be.'

Ironical words rose to Wych Hazel's lips; but she sent them back. Somehow her own height of happiness made her strangely tender and humble even towards such fallacy as this.

'Then you are not troubled about her?' she said enquiringly.

'Troubled!' Annabella echoed. 'Why she has left it all.'

'Left it!'Wych Hazel sat up straight in her place, facing round.

'Nobody knows yet; but she has left it. Mamma don't know. If I can only keep it from mamma!'

'Keep it from Mrs. Powder?' Hazel repeated. 'Keep what? Where has she gone? What can you be talking of, Miss Powder?'

'She has not gone far yet, but she means never to come back. I know where she is; she is hiding. You see, Mr. Charteris is at Albany; he has some business about some bill he wants to get through the Legislature, and it will keep him there a while; and Josey took the opportunity. She ran away; and I should never have known where to, only that the person she went to came and told me. It is a woman who used to be housekeeper for mamma; a very respectable woman; and Josey went to her. Think of it! And she won't come back. Not for me. And then I thought, if anybody living could have any influence over her, it might be you. She always thought all the world of you. Is it very bold in me to ask you? But Mrs. Rollo, I was desperate!'

Poor Annabella's looks and tones did not belie her. Wych Hazel sat back again, thinking.

'Marry a man,' she said slowly, 'and you may be able to live along without an "establishment." But if you marry an establishment, the small appendage that goes along with it But she must come back, of course! at once,' Hazel exclaimed, retaking her impetuous tones. 'Won't come?she must.'

'If you can only make her?' said Annabella. 'Nobody knows anything yetand Charteris will not be home for days. But I have not told you quite the whole. There is another person concerned. I am afraid,'Annabella spoke with bated breath'she means to go to Europe.'

'Stuart Nightingale'

'Oh do you know that?' Annabella burst forth with a cry that was almost pitiful. 'Do you know that? Is there no hope? Can we do nothing?'

Usually so calm and impassive, Miss Powder's manner to-day was in a sort of shattered condition. Hazel's mention of Stuart's name had startled her into an access of fear. And the difficulty of managing a volcano from the outside came strongly into Wych Hazel's mind. She answered slowly,

'I do not know. We will try.'

'And may I take you to her now? There is no time to lose.'

Hazel assented, thinking busily. 'This is her resource,' she said to herself. 'The pocket pistol would have been mine.'

The carriage rolled on now for a time without any more words passing between its inmates. Both ladies were meditating, ways and means and hindrances. The grey sky under which they had begun their drive, seemed to be letting itself down closer and closer upon the earth; and this low grey canopy was becoming suspiciously smooth and uniform. The air was quite still, and had as I said, suddenly grown mild. But neither of the two busy thinkers noticed the signs abroad.

'Mrs. Rollo,' Annabella began after a long pause,'I am afraid you can do nothing with Phinny. She always has had her own way, and she is obstinate. Suppose you cannot make her listen to you; do you think you could have any power with Mr. Nightingale?'

Hazel hesitated to answer, and Annabella went on.'I don't know whether you knowMme. Lasalle has got one of her friends to give him an office; and he is going out next month as consul to Lisbon. If only he could be got off without her, then, you see, we should be safe.'

'She would follow.'

'No, I don't think she would; she would not dare. Phinny is not bold, in that way. Could you do anything with him, do you think?' The accent of forlorn anxiety was touching from the usually so imperturbable sister. She watched Wych Hazel's face and words now.

It was a very mixed question. Could she?truth to say, she felt uncertain. Yet perhaps.But might she? Would the attempt be permitted, if Rollo knew? Was it breaking faith to try without his knowledge? Or were there cases when she might lawfully and secretly follow her own judgment against his? and was this one? Hazel folded her hands over her "yes."

'Don't talk to me, please,' she said. 'I must think.'

Again the carriage rolled on with stillness inside. The grey air outside grew almost tangible, it seemed so thick. Very fine snow crystals were beginning to flicker down, but I think neither of the ladies remarked it. Meanwhile the wheels of the carriage were no longer rattling over paving stones; the streets and houses of the city were left behind; a grey country, with houses scattered over it and trees here and there standing, desolate and drear enough, was to be seen from the carriage windows; but Wych Hazel hardly saw it. At last the houses began again to stand apparently in some regular order and took a more comfortable air; gardens and trees and shrubbery lay between the houses and around them; then suddenly the carriage turned round a corner and presently stopped. Wych Hazel saw a small dwelling house of very humble pretensions, but neat-looking, and with a small courtyard in front; and now perceived by the signs that she was in a village. 'Where have you brought me?' she said.

'O, Fort Washingtondidn't I tell you? Mrs. Rhodes lives here.
She is quite respectable.'

The snow was not yet falling, except in those fine isolated crystals. But the branches of the trees that overshadowed the house were beginning to sway hither and thither as if the wind were rising, and a warning moan of the breeze came through the tree-tops. The ladies went in at a little gate in the paling fence, and were admitted immediately into the house by a neat elderly woman. A little entry- way received them, having a door on each hand. Wych Hazel was ushered into the room on the right, while Annabella disappeared with the woman into the other opposite.

It looked dreary enough, for Josephine Charteris's hiding-place. Respectable it was, to be sure. There was a gay ingrain carpet, a little table set out with photographs of Mrs. Rhodes's friends and relations, living and dead; around the walls hung a great number of other pictures in cut walnut frames and resting on brackets of the same. A large one of Abraham Lincoln held the first place among these, and another engraving of a racehorse challenged attention, with a large map of North America and the portrait of Jenny Lind. Hazel felt as if she could not have borne the whole together for one half hour, if she had been there on her own account. In a few minutes Josephine came in. She was not different from what Hazel had been accustomed to see her; not excited, not disturbed. Her dress was rich, and a little careless; in both respects not unlike Josephine. She received her visiter cordially enough.

'You are the only person I would see,' she said. 'How did you know where I was? I have come here for rest. You know there is no rest as long as people know you are in town; it is nothing but go, go, night and day. And here one has really a breath of country air. I have brought a carriage load of books with meall the new novels I could find; and I just lie abed and read all day. Dreadfully useless, isn't it?' she went on, with a laugh; 'but you know I never pretended to be anything else. Don't you think that is the great point? not to pretend to be what you are not?'

'Well, why do you then?' said Wych Hazel.

'I?I don't. I think it's no use. People see through pretences. I only pretend enough just to keep up appearances. Didn't I always tell you exactly what I thought? I don't tell everybody.'

'Do you suppose I believe that you came here for the express purpose of being snowed up,outside of theatres and Germans, and other necessaries of life?'

'That is just what I want,' said Josephine. 'I wish it would snow five feet deep. I would like nothing better than to be snowed up. I would like to be desiccatedlike a man I was reading of yesterday; he's in a French novel. Do you know, he was desiccated; he was a convict, you see, and the men of science could try their experiments upon him; and they desiccated him and laid him by; and he was forgotten, and years passed, and everything changed in the world, and his children grew up, and his friends diedif he had any friends; and people forgot what this preparation was; and they cut off a bit of his ear to try under the microscope whether it was an animal's skin or what it was. And afterwards the skin was put in water and he came to life again that was all he wanted, you know, like a rose of Jericho. I wish I could be desiccated and kept awhile, till everybody was dead that I know, and then come to life again.'

'What would be the pleasure of that?' said Hazel, watching her.

'I should never see Charteris any more. I suppose I shock youbut what's the use of pretending? He's away in Albany now; and as soon as he went, I ran. You see, it isn't at all a bad sort of a place here. Little rooms, to be sure, but there's nobody in them but me; and Rhodes is a capital cook, and she pets me, and I like to be petted. And I have my own way here, and down in 40th street I can't. With all the world outside the house, and a husband inside, there is no place to breathe. I enjoy it here ever so much, and I don't want to go back, ever! Don't you want to run away too, by this time?'

'Then it is a real scheme, deep-laid and serious,' said Wych Hazel.
'Not the whim Mr. Nightingale calls it?'

'Mr. Nightingale!' said Josephine, her face changing and darkening. 'What does he say of me? Has he spoken to you about me? He doesn't know anything.'

'About anything.No. And never by any chance speaks the truth about the few things he does know. He said that Mr. Charteris had gone to Albany, and that Mrs. Charteris had the pretty whim to follow him. "Touching," I think he called it.' The disdain in the girl's voice was incomparable.

'That will do,' said Josephine. 'It's nobody's business whether I am in Albany or not. Never mind him; talk to me. Why haven't I seen you anywhere all winter? Does Dane Rollo want you to stay at home, now he is married? like Charteris?'

'I am married too,' said Wych Hazel with a flash of her old self. 'So take care what you say about him. Josephine, did you tell that man you were going to Albany?'

'Nonsense!' said Josephine laughing. 'I believe you are afraid to answer. I know you used to like to have your own way. Did I tell Stuart? No. What should I tell him for? I didn't tell him I was going to Albany, because I wasn't. I was coming here; and that wasn't worth telling a fib about. I came here to do what I like; and I just do it from morning to night. I suppose you are learning to do what you don't like. How does it feel?'

'I did not believe one word he said, all the time!' said Hazel, coolly ignoring the insinuations. 'Why should Stuart Nightingale invent falsehoods to cover the movements of Josephine Charteris?'

'Just as well as for anything else,' said Josephine laughing. 'I'm much obliged to him for the attention, I'm sure. But you don't answer, Hazel. I want to know how you and Dane get on together, after all your fine theories? Dane Rollo was as lordly a man as I ever saw, with all his easy ways; and you never were one to give up your liberty. I suppose you won't confess. Now I am more honest.'

Wych Hazel answered with a laugh,fresh and gladsome and sweet,more convincing than a hundred words. But she was grave again instantly. She left her chair and bringing a cushion to Josephine's feet sat down there, leaned her arms on her friend's lap and looked straight up into her face.

'Josephine,' she said, 'I am very, very much troubled about you.'

Josephine did not answer this. She looked at Hazel, and then her look wandered to somewhat else; undeclarative, withdrawn into herself.

'Josephine, you cannot have what does not belong to you, any more in men than in money. And if you try to give away what belongs to somebody else, nobody but a wretch will take it.'

'You are going to give me a moral lecture, because I came to Mrs. Rhodes on a spree?' said Josephine, with a superficial kind of little laugh. 'Isn't my time my own while Mr. Charteris is away?'

'No, it is not. Not to spend in a way that wrongs him. And you are not your own, wherever he is.'

'You think I am a man's property just because I am married to him! I don't. I think the man and the woman are equal, and both of them are free. It is only among savages that women are slaves.'

Hazel let that pass. Keeping her folded hands on Josephine's lap, she looked down, thinking.

'What sort of life have you led with Mr. Charteris so far?' she said, not raising her eyes. 'Can you picture it for me?'

'Picture it!'Josephine put up her lip, and then she laughed with seeming amusement. 'Did you ever see two chickens pulling at the two ends of a worm? That's about it. John pulled one way, and I pulled the other. Pleasant picture, isn't it? But that sort of thing can't last forever.'

'No,' said Wych Hazel looking suddenly up,'but this does. A life ignored by all respectable people; a name spurned with the foot and scorned on the tongue. A dark spot, which only forgetfulness can hide,and which nobody ever forgets! That other sort of thing does end, Josephine, with death, or with patient endeavour; but this thing, never!'

'You talk'said Josephine pouting. Then she suddenly broke out, with her eyes full upon Hazel's face. 'Don't you think, if you had never been happy in your life, you would like to try just for a little how it feels?'

'Yes,' said Wych Hazel, 'but you are going to try misery;and not for a little.'

'I am not trying misery here,' said the girl with a shrug of her shoulders. 'I tell you, it's jolly. How did you know where to find me?'

'There is a fair view, quite often, from the place where one step towards it plunges you down thousands of feet. When you are left alone in Lisbonand dare not come home to America_then_ you will learn what misery is.'

Josephine started a little, and for once her colour stirred. Words did not come readily. When they came, they were a somewhat haughty enquiry what Hazel meant?

'Just what I say,' Hazel answered quietly.

'Did you come here to say it?'

'Yes.'

'That's Annabella. Well,I don't care. You know about it. You know I can't live with Charteris.'

'Josephine, you must.'

'I cannot. You can't tell how it is. He don't care for me, and I don't like him; and I don't think, for my part, it is religious for people to live together that don't like each other.'

'This is a tragedy, not a farce,' Hazel said, knitting her brows. 'Leave fashions of speech a one side. John Charteris, with all his faults, would never grow tired of you, Josephineif you gave him half a chance to help it; but Stuart Nightingale will.'

'I am jolly tired of him,' cried Josephine with a burst. 'Charteris and I can't live happy together. I know better. And it will be worse now he has lost his money. I would rather die, Hazel. And I tell you, he is tired of meand I should think he would. If you knew the life I've led him, you would think so too. You needn't talk to me. I would rather die right off, than go on living with him; and it would kill me anyhow, and I'm not going to die that way.'

'There is honour in dying at one's post,' said Wych Hazel thoughtfully,'even if it came to that. But to sail away on a pleasure trip, with all one's dearest friends praying that the ship might go down in mid-seas!'

Josephine sat still, looking with odd impassiveness into the fire; then she remarked in the same way,

'My dearest friends don't do much praying. I guess they won't drown me.'

'You may kill them,' said Hazel. 'Imagine people watching Annabella and saying 'Poor thing!''What has become of the other sister?''O you mustn't ask about her. You know'and then heads will draw together. And your mother will see the shrugs and catch the hints.'

'What makes you care?' said Josephine, without moving a muscle.
'I believe you must have liked him a little yourself.'

'I liked him such a very little,' said Wych Hazel, 'that a year ago I cut up his heart into bits. He has patched them together again, but the stitches shew.'

'Stuart was poor,' said Josephine. 'I knew it all the time.'

Wych Hazel's brows drew together, but the words got no further notice.

'Josephine, you married for diamonds. I will give you diamonds every week for a year, if you will go back to your place and stay there.'

'I don't care for diamonds,' said Josephine very coldly.

'What do you care for?'the grave young eyes looked up eagerly.

'Not much'said Josephine drearily, and the words were inexpressibly sad from such young lips. 'But I am not going to live in that prison in 40th street and with that jailer Charteris any more!'

'Josephine, you could change all that. There is no prisonand no jailerfor any woman of whom it is true: "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her." '

'It wouldn't be very safe for Charteris to trust me,' said Josephine, with a hard, metallic laugh. 'I never was to be trusted. I know what you have come for, Hazel, and I know who has brought you; it's Annabella; but it's no use. You may give up the job. I know all you want to say, and I'm not going to have you say it; and you have said it, besides. Look here. A marriage isn't a real marriage when people don't care for each other. Do you think a woman is bound by a few words said over her by a man in a black silk gown? by an incantation, like the savages? It would make me downright wicked to go on living with John Charteris; you ought to want to save me from that. I am always a great deal bettermore _religious_when I am happy, than when I am miserable. It always rouses up all there is bad in me, to try to make me do something I don't want to do. I can't imagine how you get along with Dane Rollo; but that is you affair; this is mine. Where is Annabella?'

Before Hazel could stop her, she had flown across the hall to the room on the other side, whence she fetched back her sister. The conversation was not renewed. In ignorance of what fruit the interview might have borne, or what its results might be, Annabella dared not touch the matter; and Josephine gave her no chance. She kept up a rattling fire of nonsense, until the two ladies were forced to leave her.

The day was darkening fast now towards the early evening. Fine snow was falling thick, and the wind came in gusts. There was no time to be lost in getting home. Yet Annabella paused at the very coach door and looked at Hazel. 'Have you done anything?' she asked anxiously.

At the instant a gentleman ran against them with an umbrella, and lifting the same suddenly to make his excuses, a very familiar figure was revealed to them. Stuart Nightingale himself. A flash of disagreeable expression crossed his face for that one second of surprise, then he had regained his usual manner.

'Quel plaisir!' he cried, bowing low. 'Two such ladies, in the snow, here! at Fort Washington! The charms of the surprise is manifold. What has procured it? mercy, or vanity? One or the other it must be. A sick friend?or a French mantua-maker? But you are never going to drive back to New York in this awful storm?'

Annabella drew herself up and made no answer. Wych Hazel looked at the snow.

'Good evening,' she said. 'The storm is not much.'

They were to have more of it, however, than she had bargained for. Stuart's remonstrances were not listened to; the ladies entered their carriage and drove off. But their driver, who was not Mrs. Powder's servant, had improved his leisure time during their stay in the house by making visits to a neighbouring drinking saloon; and now, confused by the mingled efforts of wind and brandy, took the road north instead of south from the village. To spare her sister, and indeed herself, Annabella had taken a hackney coach, and this was what came of it. The ladies were thinking of something else and did not see what their charioteer was doing. Annabella broke at last a silence which had prevailed for some time.

'What did she say?'

'Said she didn't care.'

'She would not listen to you!'

'Not this time.'

'Then there is no chance,' cried Annabella in despair. 'They will make all their arrangements now. Stuart is going to sail the week after next, I know.'

'I wish I could get speech of him!' said Wych Hazel, knitting her brows in the darkness.

This too was to fall to her lot in an unexpected manner and measure. It might have been three quarters of an hour, or more, from the time of their meeting that gentleman in front of Mrs. Rhodes's cottage, when Stuart happened to be in the street again and crossing the main road at the corner where the carriage had turned the wrong way. The storm had now grown to be furious; wind and snow driving so across the street that to hold his umbrella was no longer possible. As with difficulty he closed it, a carriage stopped immediately before him, the door opened, and two ladies sprang out into the storm. He had nearly run against them again, before he saw that they were the same ladies. And they saw him.

'O Mr. Nightingale!' cried the foremost, forgetting everything in distress,'do help us. We've got a drunken coachman.'

'Miss Powder!But how are you here yet?'

'O he took us ever so far on the way to Albany before we found it out. He's quite stupid. What shall we do?'

A few steps in the snow, taken with extreme difficulty, brought them to the shelter of a village hotel. Here the matter was debated. Stuart advised their spending the night quietly where they were. But Annabella would not listen to this. "Her mother," "her mother"she urged; "her mother would be frightened to death." Write, Stuart suggested. Miss Powder did not believe any messenger would go. Stuart offered to be the messenger himself. Annabella refused, obstinately. I think she did not put enough faith in him even for that. She would have a carriage and proceed on her journey forthwith. Annabella shewed herself determined, and Hazel did not oppose her decisions, nor have much to say in the matter generally.

So a carriage was got ready; it was necessary to offer a huge fee to tempt any man out that night, but however that was arranged; and in half an hour the ladies were able to set forth again on their interrupted journey. But one circumstance neither of them had counted upon. Mr. Nightingale, after putting them into the carriage and giving directions to the driver, coolly stepped in himself and took the opposite seat.

'Mr. Nightingale!' said Miss Powder'you are not going?'

'Certainly I am. You two ladies cannot be allowed to take such a journey alone. I should expect Gov. Powder never to speak to me again, and coffee and pistols with Rollo would be too good for me. To say nothing of the punishment of my own conscience.'

The drive from that point was extremely silent, and never to be forgotten by at least two of the party. The violence of the storm was quite enough to justify the third in intruding himself upon their company, though I am afraid nobody thanked him for it. Wind and snow and darkness made any progress difficult, and any but very slow progress out of the question. The horses crept along the road, which they were not infrequently left to find by themselves; the snow whirled and beat now against one window and now upon the other with a fury and a rush which were somewhat appalling. Still the horses struggled on, though all the light there was abroad came from the glimmer of the snow itself, unless when a gleam shot out into the night from the window of some house. They did keep on their way, but it was doubtful at times if they could. Within the carriage conversation was limited to remarks about the weather and the cold, and did not flourish at that, though the cold did. To keep warm became impossible.

It was a great relief at last to feel pavement under the wheels, which they could do in the broad places where wind had swept the street bare; and gaslights looked very kindly, flaring along the line of way. They could see the storm then! How it raged and drove through the streets, driving everybody to the shelter of a house that had a house to go to; and those who had none were slunk away into other hiding places. The wind and the snow had cleared the deserted streets; an occasional carriage was rarely met.

'Set me down first, please,' said Annabella, pressing Wych Hazel's hand to mark her meaning. 'My mother must be in distressand it is just as near going that way.'

Stuart laughed a little, but he did not speak his thoughts which went to the possible anxiety of some other people. With some difficulty he hailed the coachman and gave the order, and presently Miss Powder was deposited at her own door. Stuart gave the next order and jumped in again.

Now what should Wych Hazel do? During that minute, while she watched the two figures standing in the driving storm before Mrs. Powder's door, she had taken a comprehensive view of the situation, and made up her mind.

'Sit there, please,' she said, motioning the incomer to his former place on the front seat. 'I want to talk business.' Since leaving Fort Washington she had hardly opened her lips; but now the well- remembered voice came out clear and sweet and with a ring of grave dignity.

'Am I to suppose you do not think me worthy to talk business alongside of you?' said Stuart lightly, and obeying.

Wych Hazel left that question to answer itself. She was silent a minute, her hands holding each other fast.

'Mr. Nightingale,' she said, 'you once asked me if I liked to hear the truth told about myself. Do you?'

'From you!anything,' he answered gallantly. 'Your voice never speaks harsh judgmentsthough I am afraid the truth about myself would be less than flattering. What is it, Mrs. Rollo? I am curious. It is said, no man knows himself.'

'I have been told,' said Wych Hazeland she hesitated, and then went on again with quick utterance,how intensely disagreeable it all was to her!'I have been told this afternoon, that a year ago you wanted my fortune. Stop!I do not care two straws whether you did or not!But I wished to say, that upon certain conditions you can have part of it now. Think before you refuse, Mr. Nightingale. No one will ever offer you so much againin exchange for so little.'

A pause.

'I am at a loss,' he began in a changed voice, 'how any one can have induced you to believe' And there he stopped. But Wych Hazel gave him no help. She sat looking out into the night, the gaslights flaring in from time to time upon her face. Had she grown fairer than ever?

'Everything is said about everybody,' he said haughtily after a little. 'I do not know why I should fare better than others. The truth about anybody is never public report. It is assumed in the case of every woman who has a fortune, that the man who seeks her, wants it. The gentleman who has had the honour of Miss Kennedy's choice has certainly not escaped the imputation, however he may deserve it no more than I.'

'That is not business,' she said in quiet tones. 'If you please, we will discuss nothing else.'

'I am not so happy as to know of any business between us,' he said in the same haughty manner,'great as the honour and pleasure would be.'

'It will save time,' said Wych Hazel, 'to waste none in preliminaries. I want to buy up your present bad undertakingand the price is for you to name.'And she looked out again into the white darkness, and wondered if this was to be her first night adventure wherein Mr. Rollo did not appear to take her home.

'Pardon me, I am very much at a loss to know what you mean. Only, through the confusion, I seem to perceive that Mrs. Rollo has lost the kind opinion which Miss Kennedy used to have of me.'

He heard a soft exclamation of impatienceextremely like 'Miss
Kennedy!'Then came deliberate words again.

'Mrs. Charteris,' she said, 'has no money of her own. I offer you what you will to let her alone. To break with her utterly. Do you understand? I believe if you pledged me your word to that, you would keep it.'

'Thank you!' he said in the same tone. 'May I venture to ask, how you can possibly suppose that I have anything to "break" with any other woman, after you have broken with me?'

The words were beneath notice. Wych hazel went on as if she had not heard them.

'And if you will come to a decision soon,now, while I am here,I shall be very glad.'

'Mrs. Rollo supposes that everything can be done with money!' Stuart said scornfully. 'It is a not unnatural delusion with those who have an unusual supply.'

'No,' said Wych Hazel in the same calm way; 'I do not suppose that. I know better. But with nothing in the other scale, money and honour have their weight.'

'Mrs. Rollo probably has for the moment forgotten that she is not still Miss Kennedy. She will forgive me the remark.'

'I have not forgotten that either. If I had, I should not be here talking to Mr. Nightingale.'

'Why not?' said he quickly.

'The fact is enough. I am dealing only with facts to-night. Business facts.' And Wych Hazel leaned back and was silent; listening to the dull roll of the wheels, and the sharper swirl of snow and hail against the windows. A few minutes of silence allowed these to be heard. Then the carriage stopped.

'You know,' said Wych Hazel suddenly, 'there are two names at stake. What do you decide, Mr. Nightingale?'

The carriage door opened; he had no time to reply.