Wych Hazel

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

CHAPTER XIX.

SELF-CONTROL.

Rollo came up with the grave, business look of one who has serious matters on hand.

'A messenger has come,' he said, speaking to Wych Hazel, 'to say that one of the men has met with an accident.'

He could see how the shock struck her, but she made no exclamation, only her hands met in a tight clasp as they had done in the woods' fire. She faced him silently, waiting more words.

'I don't know yet how bad it is. I am going to see; and I will come back to you by and by.'

'Where?—and who?' she asked.

'In the wood-cutting. It is Reo.' He spoke as a man who speaks unwillingly.

Hazel gave a little cry at that, and turning suddenly flew into the house. The next thing was the flutter of her light foot outside among the trees. But, overtaken the next minute, she was stopped by a hand on her arm and held fast. However Dane spoke very gently.

'Miss Hazel!—you had better not go yourself.'

'I am going,' she said, struggling to disengage herself. 'Mr.
Rollo!—'

'Stop,' he said gently and steadily. 'Miss Hazel—I shall not let you go.'

In her excitement she hardly took in more than the mere fact of his words, and dropping everything she had in her hand, Hazel took hold of his fingers and began to loosen them with her own, which had a good deal of will in them, of they were small. The immediate effect was to secure the imprisonment of both her hands in a clasp that was stronger than her's. I hardly think Rollo disliked it, for he smiled a little as he spoke:

'Listen,' he said,—'Miss Hazel, I shall not let you go down yonder. I will bring you news as soon as I can—but you must stay here with Rosy. Don't you see?' he added very gently, as he turned about and walked toward the house with her, putting one little hand on his arm while other hand still held it fast,—'don't you see, you could do nothing just yet? And I take this upon myself—I shall not let you go. You must stay here and take care of Rosy, till I can come back to you.'

'I will not,' she said, stopping short again. 'I will go! It is my right! Where should a woman be? And—Oh!' she cried with a change of tone, 'it is Reo!—And he will want things—and he will want me!'

'Not yet,' said Rollo; 'it is not time for either yet. He shall want nothing, I promise you, that he ought to have. But you must be good and stay with Rosy.'

He spoke as a brother might speak to a little sister of whom he was very fond, or—brothers do not often take just that tone. Primrose, looking on, knew very well what it meant. Wych Hazel was in far too much commotion of mind to discern anything. She had yielded to superior strength,—which indeed she could not gracefully resist; and then there came over her heart such a flood of grief, that for the last few steps she was quite passive; though giving no sign but the quiver that touched her mouth, and went and came again. But at Rollo's last words she drew herself up defiantly.

'Do you expect to stand here and hold me all day?' she said.

'No?' he said gravely, now meeting her look,—'I expect you to have self-control and womanly patience, and to let me go and do my part, until it is time for you to do yours. Will you?'

'I shall do what I think best. The question is none of yours, Mr. Rollo. Self-control!—I have a little!' she said under her breath.

'Do you mean to keep me here,' he said gravely and quietly, 'when I may be so much wanted elsewhere? You would be in the way there, but I am needed. Still, you are my first care. Must I stay here to take care of you? or will you promise me to be good and wait quietly with Primrose, until I bring you word?'

His eye went to Primrose as he ended, in a mute appeal for help. And Prim came near and laid her hand softly on Wych Hazel's shoulder.

'Do, dear Hazel!' she said. 'Duke knows; you may trust him.'

It was indescribable the way she freed herself from them both, as if to be touched, now, was beyond the bounds of endurance. Prim's words Hazel utterly ignored, but something in the other's claimed attention.

'Go! Go!'—she said hurriedly. 'Go and do your part!—If you had been content with doing that at first, we should have had no trouble.' She wrapped her arms round one of the light verandah pillars, and leaning her head against it gave look nor word more.

Rollo staid for none, but dashed away down the slope and was lost in the woods. Primrose stood near Wych Hazel, very much at a loss indeed; but too troubled to be still.

'Dear Hazel!' she ventured, in a very soft voice—'don't feel so! What is the matter?'

'Did you not hear?'

'Yes; but Hazel dear, you know hardly anything yet; there may be very little to be troubled about. The accident may be very slight, for all you know. I always think it is best to wait and see; and then have your strength ready to work with.'

'My strength has been extremely useful to-day.'

'What to you mean, dear?' said Primrose, softly endeavouring to coax the hands and arms away from the verandah pillar. 'Look here—look up and be yourself again. Maybe there is very little the matter. Wait and see.'

'Wait!'—Hazel repeated. 'People talk as if waiting was such easy work!'

'I never said it was easy,' said Primrose gently. 'But some people have to wait all their lives.' There was the very essence of patience in the intonation.

'I should think their lives would be short.'

Primrose sighed a little and was silent. Perhaps she thought that those who had little occasion to practise the grace were unreasonable. But I think she only remembered that the one near her was very unpractised.

'Forgive me—I do not mean to—be—' the girl faltered out, the tremor coming back to her voice. 'But Reo!—' And with that, pain and disappointment and chagrin joined forces; and quitting her pillar, Hazel dropped down by one of the great wicker chairs, and laying her head there burst into a passion of weeping that almost made Primrose wish for the hard-edged calm again.

So she stood passively by until the storm was spent; and Dr. Maryland having satisfied his book quest, came out again, awakening to the fact that it was time he and Primrose were jogging homeward. Primrose took him aside and explained the situation of affairs, after which Dr. Maryland, too, forthwith betook himself down the slope in the direction where Mr. Falkirk and Rollo had disappeared. After a little interval of further suspense he was seen coming back again. He reported that Reo was not much hurt; had been a good deal bruised, and the accident had threatened to be serious; but after all no great harm was done. Primrose nevertheless begged that her father would go home without her; she could come with Duke, she said.

Dr. Maryland's wagon had not been brought round, however, when a very different vehicle appeared, climbing the steep; and Primrose proclaimed that Mrs. Powder was at hand. The carriage drew up before the verandah, and from it descended the ex- Governor's lady, and two young ones—Miss Annabella and another. Mrs. Powder was a stately lady, large and dignified;— those two things do not always go together, but they did in her case. She was extremely gracious to all the members of the little group she found gathered to receive her. Then, as Dr. Maryland was going, she sat down to talk to him about some business which engaged her. So the two older persons were a little removed from the rest. Miss Annabella did nothing but look handsome and calm, after her wont; but her younger sister was of different mettle.

'And so this is Chickaree?' she said, gazing up and down and about, at the old house and its surroundings. 'What a delightful old place! And are you the mistress of it, really— without being married, you know? How splendid! I always think that's the worst of being married—you lose your liberty, you know, and there's always somebody to bother you; but to have a grand place, and house, and all that, and to be mistress, and have no master!—I declare,' Miss Josephine cried, throwing up hands and eyes, 'it's as good as a fairy tale. And much better, for it don't all vanish in smoke in a minute. Oh, don't you feel like a fairy princess in the midst of all your magnificence? You look like it, too!' added the young lady, surveying the person of her hostess. 'Ain't you proud?'

Hazel's spent and past excitement had left her rather pale and grave, so that she was doing the honours with an extra touch of stateliness. Self-control was trying its best now, for she had not the least mind that anybody should know it had ever been shaken. So she ordered lunch to be served out there on the verandah, and made Dr. Maryland wait for it, and talked to Miss Annabella; and now gave Miss Josephine a cool 'Proud! Is that what you call it?' which left nothing to be desired.

'I thought they said she was so brilliant?' remarked Miss Annabella, in an aside to Primrose. 'But I suppose that is with gentlemen.'

'What do you call it?' the younger Miss Powder went on. 'I should be proud—awfully—if I had such a house and all. I'd take my time about being married. Wouldn't you? Don't you think it is best to put off being married as long as you can?— not till it's too late, you know. The fun's all over then— don't you think so?—except the house, and carriage, and establishment, and giving entertainments, and all that. And you have got it all already. Oh, I should think you would make the men dance round?'

Wych Hazel had followed this rush of new ideas with a degree of amazement, which, before she knew, culminated in a merry laugh. But she was grave again immediately.

'Should you?' she said. 'How do you do it?'

'Don't you know how?' said the other girl, with an expression of insinuation, fun and daring which it is difficult to give on paper. She was a pretty, bright girl, too. The question would have been impudent if it had not been comical. 'I know you do!' she went on. 'You've a good battery. I'd like to see you do it. I always do. It's such fun! All men are good for,' she exclaimed next, with a curl on her lip, 'except to carry one's parasol and things. Do you know Kitty Fisher?'

'Not even by name,' said Miss Kennedy, studying her guest as an entirely new species.

'She's a splendid girl. She's coming to Moscheloo next week; there'll be goings on then. People are so stupid here in the country, they want somebody to wake them up. Kitty's awfully jolly. Oh, what a lovely old house! Take me in and let me see it, won't you? Oh, what a lovely hall! What a place for a German! Oh, you'll give a German, won't you?'

'I do not know what I shall give, yet, Miss Powder.'

'I'm not Miss Powder! Annabella wouldn't thank you. She'd like me to be Miss Powder, though. Tell me; don't you think people could get along just as well if they weren't married? Now there's my mother wants to marry us off as quick as she can; and every other girl's mother is just the same. What do they do it for? Oh, you've got a dreadful old guardian, haven't you? Does he want you to get married? Ain't it hateful to have a guardian? I should think it would be awfully poky.'

'Did you ever see Mr. Falkirk?' said Hazel gravely. Somehow this girl's talk made her extremely reticent. But that made little difference to Miss "Phinny." The next question was:

'Do you know Stephen Kingsland?'

'Yes.'

'Don't you admire him? Ain't he a catch, for somebody! But you know Stuart Nightingale, don't you?'

Again Miss Kennedy said yes.

'Like him?'

'Do you?' said Hazel.

'I think he's splendid! He's so amusing; and he's a splendid dancer. It's fun to dance with Stuart Nightingale. I don't very often get him, though. But you didn't answer me—do you like him?'

'I am not much in the habit of answering people,' said Hazel frankly. 'You will find that out if you see enough of me.'

'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 rôle 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.'