SCHOOLING.
All Hazel's news thus far had come from Dr. Maryland's house; brought by Primrose or sent in a note. There was not much to tell; at least not much that anybody wanted to tell. The sick-beds in the two cabins, the heavy atmosphere of disease, the terrible quarantine, the weary tension of day and night, the incessant strain on the physical and mental strength of the few nurses,nobody wrote or spoke of these. The suspense, nobody spoke of that either. The weeks of October and November slowly ran out, and the days of December began to follow.
One mild, gentle winter morning, Dr. Maryland's little old gig mounted the hill to Chickaree.
Dr. Maryland had not been there, as it happened, for a long time; not since the event which had made such a change in all the circumstances of its mistress; nor in all that time had he seen Hazel. The place looked wintry enough to-day, with its bare trees, and here and there the remnant of a light snow that had fallen lately; but the dropped leaves were carried away, and the sweep shewed fresh touches of the rake; everything was in perfect order. Dingee ushered the visiter into the great drawing-room, to warm himself by a corresponding fire; and there in a minute Hazel joined him, looking grave and flushed. The doctor had not sat down; he turned to face her as she came in.
'Well, my dear!' said he cheerily. 'How do you do?'
'Very well, sir, thank you.'
'You are all alone? Mr. Falkirk is away, I understand; just gone?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Gone to a sick sister in England, and left you alone.'
'Yes, sir. It is nothing very new for me to be alone,' said Hazel.