CHAPTER XVIII.

SETTLEMENTS.

To go back a little.

When Mr. Falkirk came to dinner that first day, he was very

taciturn and grumpy indeed until soup and fish and third course

were disposed of. Then when he got a chance with Dingee out of

the room, Mr. Falkirk opened his mouth for the discussion of

somewhat besides grapes and peaches.

'So I understand, Miss Hazel, you have arranged with your other

guardian to dispense with my services.'

Wych Hazel was not in a mood even for blushing, that day.

Thoughts were too deeply and abstractedly busy, and spirits were

under too great a weight, for the usual quick play of lights and

colours to which Mr. Falkirk was accustomed. A faint little extra

tinge was all that came with the grave answer,

'May I ask who has been talking about me, sir?'

'Your future guardian, Miss Hazel; no less. Stopped at my door last

night, on horseback, to say in three minutes what would have been

more fittingly talked of in three hours.'

Slowly at first, then quick and vivid, the roses stirred and flamed

up in the thoughtful face, but she said nothing. Only pushed away

her plate, as if peaches and _that_ could not go on together.

'I would like to know from you whether it is a thing fixed and

settled and unalterable; absolutely done? I suppose it is, or he

would not have said it.'

She darted a look at him.

'Do you found suppositions upon such slight circumstantial

evidence, Mr. Falkirk?'

'Sometimes, Miss Hazel, when the thing happens to be particularly

difficult of belief.'

'Unalterable?' Hazel repeated, half to herself,—'few things are that.

Suppose your supposition were a mistake, Mr. Falkirk,—what

then?'

'Can you tell me that it is?' he said, looking across the table to her

with a gaze that would find the truth.

'Would you be glad?' she answered. 'And will you tell me why?'

Then Dingee came in with coffee, and a bouquet; and Hazel sat

playing idly with the flowers while Dingee set out the cups, the

scent of heliotrope and geranium filling the room. While Dingee

was near, Mr. Falkirk was silent; but eyeing the girl however, the

flowers, her action, with a glance that took it all in and lost no

item; not a graceful movement nor a tint of the picture.

'Yes,' he said firmly when the boy was gone, 'I should be glad. You

are just fit for the play you are playing now; it is not played out,

and should not be, for some time to come. You are young, and

ought to be free; and you are rich, Miss Hazel, and ought not to

marry somebody who will ruin you.'

For a minute Hazel spoke not for surprise, and then she let a

prudent pause lap on to that. For she had no mind just then to get

up a tirade for Mr. Rollo's benefit, and all the same she felt her

blood stirring.

'Is this all I am fit for?' she said: but the laugh was a little nervous.

'I said nothing you need take umbrage at,' her guardian returned

somewhat bitterly. 'I spoke only in care for you, Miss Hazel; not in

depreciation. I am about the last man in the world to do that.'

'It is nothing very new for you to speak in depreciation of me, sir,'

said his ward, in her old privileged manner. 'You know you never

did think I was good for much.'

'Enough to be worth taking care of,' growled Mr. Falkirk in a tone

which bespoke a mingling of feelings.

'Well, sir,—I never was fond of that process—but I have submitted

indifferently well, I hope.'

'Allow me to ask, Miss Hazel,—what sort of care do you expect in

the future?'

Hazel fairly looked at him and opened her eyes. 'Really, Mr.

Falkirk,' she said, 'you are very amazing!'

'You know, I must suppose, that your—_guardian_—has proved

himself unfit to take care of your fortune, inasmuch as he has

thrown away his own. And when fortune is gone, Miss Kennedy,

the means of taking care of you are gone along with it. I warn you,

though it may not be in time.'

Wych Hazel's hands took a great grip of each other. It was pretty

hard to bear this to-day.

'For the last year and a half, Mr. Falkirk, the care of me—in every

respect—has been referred, and referred, and referred, to other

judgment than your own. I used to think you were tired of me,—

that you had lost your wits— Now, you think I have lost mine.'

'The judgment which I was obliged to consult, and which could not

hurt you as long as I remained a consenting party, will have no

restraint when my decisions are dispensed with. He can pitch all

your thousands after his own, if he thinks proper.'

'Yes, you can do anything with an "if," ' said Hazel, trying to keep

herself quiet.

'He will think it proper,' said Mr. Falkirk.

'You must have learned a good deal in three minutes, sir.'

'He is an enthusiast—a fanatic, I should call it; and an enthusiast

sees but one object in the universe, and _that_ the object of his

enthusiasm. It is all right, to him; but it is all wrong for you.'

It might have been the sheer pressure of excitement, it might have

been some idea that the present object of Mr. Rollo's enthusiasm

was nearer at hand than Mr. Falkirk thought; but Wych Hazel's

sweet laugh rang out. She knew again that the laugh was nervous,

but it was uncontrollable none the less.

Mr. Falkirk's countenance changed slightly, as though he had

winced with some secret pain; but it did not come out in words, if

the feeling existed. He waited till the laugh had died away, and

even the stillness spoke of reaction in the mind of the laugher; and

then he went on with a quiet unchanged tone,

'There is no use in going into this now. I wish merely to say, Miss

Hazel, that the habit of taking care for your interests is too old with

me, and has become too strong, to be immediately laid aside. I

shall do my best to procure a settlement of your propriety—as

much of it as possible—upon yourself; and I mention this now

simply to beg of you that you will not interpose any sentimental or

quixotic objection on your own part. I shall endeavour to get Dr.

Maryland to back me; he must see the propriety of the step. I only

ask you to keep still.'

Mr. Falkirk rose. In a moment Wych Hazel was at his side, linking

her little hands on his arm in the old fashion.

'What have I done,' she said, 'that you speak so to me? Have I been

so wayward and wilful that I have really chafed all your love

away, and there is nothing left but dry care?'

He touched her hand as he rarely had ever done, with a caressing,

glancing touch, slight and short; but the man was silent. Wych

Hazel drew him along, softly walking him up and down through

the room, but she too said nothing, feeling perplexed and hurt, and

not well knowing why. It was nothing new for Mr. Falkirk's words

to be dry, but to-night they were so hard!—and when had he ever

called her Miss Kennedy, in the worst of times? For once her

instinct was at fault.

'I must go,' said Mr. Falkirk, stopping short after a turn or two.

'It is such an old story for me to make mistakes—' Hazel began

hesitatingly.

'Have you made this one unwittingly?' he asked with sudden

eagerness.

Hazel dropped his arm and stood off with the air which Mr.

Falkirk knew very well.

'This one does not happen to exist,' she said. 'But I mean—I should

think you were so used to the reality, sir, that the idea would not

give you much trouble. And there is one thing more I ought to say.'

'I am not troubled by an idea, Miss Hazel. What is the other thing?'

Not an easy one to speak, by the shewing, as she stood there

gathering her forces. But the words came clear and low.

'It will be a good day for me, Mr. Falkirk,—I shall have more hope

of myself,—when I am as willing to be poor for the sake of other

people, as—Mr. Rollo—is. Would you feel more sure of my being

taken care of, if you knew that he spent all he has upon himself?'

'Yes. He is spending it upon a vagary—a chimera; and that is as

much as to say he is throwing it into a quicksand. He will go down

with it.'

'I wonder what will be the result of that?' said Wych Hazel, in the

cool way she could sometimes assume when she felt particularly

hot.

'I don't like to look at the result,' said Mr. Falkirk. 'I will go, if you

please, Miss Hazel.—But if you will be so good as not to oppose

me, the result shall not be your destitution.'

'Oppose you!' said Hazel. 'With such an object in view!'—But then

the mocking tone changed, and she said sorrowfully—'I beg your

pardon, Mr. Falkirk!—But you are vexed, sir, and then you always

vex me. And—I was not just ready for this to-night.'

'You need not be vexed that I want to take care of you,' Mr. Falkirk

returned.

'No, sir. There are great many things I need not be,' said Hazel.

'I will try to do it. I may not succeed. Good-night.'

She put her hands on his arm again, following his lead now

towards the door. But on the way another thought struck her.

'Mr. Falkirk,' she said suddenly, 'if you try to do something which

you know I would not like—or in a way I should not like,—you

must remember that I will never say yes to it. Not if there were

fifty quicksands in the way!'

'Miss Hazel,' returned her guardian, 'I have not so long held my

office without finding out that it is impossible to tell beforehand

what you would like, or in what way you would like it. I must

work in the dark; unless you prefer to give me illumination.'

'I should like,' said Hazel bravely, 'what Mr. Rollo would have a

right to like. I suppose Mr. Falkirk will know what that is.'

'Pardon me. My only concern is with what _you_ would have a right

to like.'

'Very well,' she answered,—'if you choose to put it so. But I could

have no right to like anything which should seem like a

reflection,—anything that could cast the least possible shade of

dishonour.—Further than that, I do not see how it matters.'

'Does it matter to you whether you are your own mistress or not?'

said Mr. Falkirk, confronting her now with the question.

'I suppose that is past praying for,' said Hazel with a deep blush.

'But I never have been, yet.'

'You have in money matters.'

'About my own silks and sugarplums. No further, sir.'

'Do you wish it to be "no further" always?'

'I like my own way better than anything in the world,' said Hazel,

'except'—and she paused, and the crimson mounted again,—

'except the honour and dignity and standing of the people I love.

You know better than I, Mr. Falkirk, whether both things can be

cared for together; but if one has to go down, it must be my will.'

'If it can be done consistently with other people's "dignity and

standing," you would like to have control of your own property?'

'It cannot be so done.'

'It can be so done—if I and Dr. Maryland do it.'

'No,' said Hazel, 'there is too much of it.'

'Will you please explain?'

'Too much money,—too much land,—the property is too large.'

'Too large to be divided, that is.'

Hazel turned off with a gesture of distressful impatience—then

faced her guardian again.

'Don't you see, Mr. Falkirk?' she said,—'do you need to be told?

Mr. Rollo could not possibly be only my agent.'

'I do not see that he need. You are competent surely to spend your

own money, in the way you like best.'

'Very competent!' said Hazel gravely. 'And to manage my estate.

Then I will begin at once, if you please, Mr. Falkirk, and you can

send up to-morrow all the deeds and leases and writings in your

possession. It will be quite a nice little amusement for me.'

'Miss Hazel, you talk nonsense,' said her guardian. 'I cannot deliver

up my charge, except in hands that will have absolute rule over it;

unless I can secure a separate portion for you. The will makes him

master, in the event of his marrying you.'

Hazel made no reply. The speech was full of words that she did

not like. And Mr. Falkirk quitted the room.

If he had wished to render his ward uncomfortable, he had made a

hit,—stirring up thoughts and questions which had been ready

enough before, only always held in check by the presence and

influence that were stronger yet. But to-night she was heart-sore to

begin with, and it had chafed her extremely that not all her

pleading of the night before had carried a single point. The words

"master," and "absolute control," came with particular jarring

effect. She brought a foot-cushion to the front of the fire, there

where she was in the dining-room; and rested her head upon her

hands and thought.