He saw, he thought he saw, the whole character and extent of the mischief that had been done. He knew Wych Hazel; he could guess at the bound of revulsion her spirit would make at several points in the narrative that had been told her. He knew Prudentia; he could fancy that the details lost nothing in the giving.
But the steadiness, not of feeling, but of nerves and judgment, which was characteristic of him, kept his eyesight clear even now. He did not fall into Wych Hazel's confusion of thoughts and notions; nor did his hunter's instincts fail him. His game was removed to a distance; that he saw; it might be a long distance,—and how much patient skill might be called for before it would be within his grasp again it was impossible to guess. There were odds of another hunter catching up the coveted quarry; other snares might be set, of a less legitimate nature; other weapons called into play than his own. There are some natures who do not know how to fail, and who never do fail in what they set themselves to accomplish. In spite of disadvantages, Rollo had very much in his favour; and this peculiar constitution of mind, among other things.
He would go up to Chickaree that same day. Before presenting himself there, he and the bay horse travelled, I am afraid to say how many miles in two hours. But nerves and senses were in their usual condition of excellent soundness, and his temper in its usual poise, when he turned in at the gate of Chickaree, and mounted the hill.
Before he quite reached the house, however, Mr. Rollo, being quick of eye, caught a signal from among the trees down towards the garden: a woman's hand raised in the fashion of a Sunday school scholar asking leave to speak. Drawing bridle, to make sure that he saw right, or to find what this strange sign might mean, he presently saw little Phoebe of the mill, who, leaving her basket of muslins on the grass, now came running towards him. Phoebe's regard for Mr. Rollo, it may be said, was second only to her devotion to her mistress.
'I hope I'm not taking too much of a liberty, sir,' she began, all out of breath with eagerness and running, 'but I said to myself maybe Mr. Rollo would know what to do. For I'm sure Miss Hazel must be very sick,—and nobody takes a bit of notice.'
The inner pang with which this advice was received did not at all appear. Rider and horse were motionless, and the answer was a grave—
'Why do you think so, Phoebe?'
'May I tell you all about it, sir?' said the girl, earnestly. Then without waiting for permission—'I never have told a living soul, Mr. Rollo; for Mrs. Bywank she shuts me up with: "Do your work Phoebe, and don't talk;" and so I have, sir, always. It was one day after a ride—for she's had the beautifullest horse, sir!—since you've been away, I guess; and she'd ride every morning before breakfast, and come home looking—Well I can't begin to tell!' said Phoebe, enthusiastically. 'But Reo said it was the flush of the morning going through his gate.'
The bay lifted up one foot and struck it impatiently on the ground. His rider sat still, waiting upon Phoebe's words. The reins were on the horse's neck, but the creature probably had made up his mind that any volunteer extra steps were unnecessary under his new master, for he stood like a rock, that one foot excepted.
'So,' said Phoebe, taking up her broken thread, 'of course Jeannie Deans (that's the horse, Mr. Rollo) began to love her, might and main, right off—as everybody does; but even Mr. Lewis allowed he never saw a horse learn so quick. And it isn't often he allows anything,' said Phoebe, with the slightest toss of her head. 'It wasn't for sugar,—sometimes Miss Hazel would give her a lump, but generally not; only she'd pat her and talk to her, and look in her face, and then Jeannie'd look right at her, and begin to follow round if Miss Hazel just held out her hand. Some days she'd come all the way up from the lodge just so,—not holding the bridle nor nothing,—the prettiest sight you ever saw, sir! She didn't call her Jeannie, either,—it was some short, queer name that I never did quite hear, she'd say it so softly. Most like a bird's talk, of anything.' Phoebe paused, smiling at the remembrance.