'What do you wish you could tell me, Hazel?' he said, with the tenderness of eye and voice which, with him, came instead of expletives of endearment. There was a faint quiver of the lips that answered,
'Thingsabout me, that you ought to know. And it is very hard to tell you some things, Mr. Rollo.'
'It would be easier, if you could call me something else,' he said, bending to kiss her. 'I should like to know anything about you. What are these "things"?'
'My thoughts and life. And I cannot tell them without saying so muchthat I would not say, and, maybe, ought not.Only, when you begin to start questionsand subjects,then,' Hazel paused to gather her forces. 'Then I think it is right you should know everything about me, first.' The last word came out very low, and even the instinct of truth could hardly have carried her further just then.
'Go on, and tell me,' said Dane gently. 'The words are as sweet to me as a chime of bells; but, just yet, not so intelligible.'
She stood very still for a minute, her head bent down. Then softly disengaged herself.
'I cannot talk to you so,' she said. 'Sit down, please, in the bergère, and let me sit here; and I will tellwhat I can.'
"Here" meant a low foot cushion near the bergère, where the young lady placed herself, but a little drawn back and turned away, where only the firelight could look in her face.
'Stop!'said Dane, arresting this part of the arrangements. 'You at my feet!'
'Yes, if I like it,' said Hazel. 'When you have to gainsay people in great things, you should always let them have their way in small.'