“Then Mr Graves is not aware of your visit down here, Archibald?” said Hazel quietly.
“By Jove, no! he would be in a wax if he knew.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Why did I come? Oh, I say Hazel,” he cried reproachfully, “I didn’t think you could be so hard upon me. You don’t know how I’ve been upset all about it. ’Pon my word, there were times when I felt almost ill.”
“Has he altered?” Hazel’s heart cried out within her, “or have I become worldly and cold, and, as he says, hard?”
“I say, you know, Hazel, you must give up all this wretched business. I shall tell the governor that I mean to keep to our old engagement, and he’ll come round some day; but you must give up the school teaching, as he’d never stand that, for he’s as proud as Lucifer. Come, I say, it’s all right again, isn’t it?”
“What did I see in this boy?” thought Hazel, as the indignant blood flushed into her cheeks, and then flowed back painfully to her heart. “Was he always as weak and thoughtless as this?”
“Oh, I say, mother, look here,” cried a shrill voice as they were passing an open cottage door; “that’s new teacher, and that’s her young man.”
“There, you hear,” whispered Hazel’s companion, laughing; “it was vulgarly put, but very true.”
“Archibald Graves,” said Hazel quietly, “have you not the common-sense to see that your visit here is putting me in a false position?”