NOVICE WORK.
Mrs. Coles did not improve her position next day. 'What nights
does Sacchi-süssi sing?' she asked, when Rollo had left the three
ladies alone. Hazel answered that she had not noticed.
'They say she is wonderful, and beautiful, and everything. Do you
suppose Dane will take us, if we ask him nicely?'
'I do not go.'
'To the opera? My dear! Not at all?'
'Not at all.'
'But why?'
Wych Hazel stood thinking. She was very shy of declaring
herselfyet sometimes it must be done.
'A few years ago,' she said slowly, 'when the war was going on,
two gentlemen came one night to see Mr. Falkirk. They told war
stories; and I with my book of some study in my hand, sat still and
listened. One story was this. A mutual friend of all the parties had
laid the United States flag down in her drawing room as a floor-
cloth, to be trodden under foot. Then the other gentleman spoke
out and said his wife would not enter that house again while the
war lasted! Mrs. Colesat the opera and the theatre my flag is
under foot.'
'Your flag!' said the lady in amazement.
'Yes,' Hazel answered with her colour stirring. 'You know what
service I have sworn into.'
'I don't see where the flags come in,' said Mrs. Coles.
Hazel answered softly, gazing into the fire,"Thou hast given a
banner to thy chosen, that it may be displayed because of the
truth."
'Then you mean to say,' broke out Mrs. Coles with a rising colour
of her own tinging the pale face, 'that no Christians ever go to the
theatre!'
'Do they carry their flag aloft there?' said Wych Hazel. 'Are they
marching to victory under its folds? I could not carry mine. It
would be trailing, drooping, union-down!'
'Prue, Prue,' said Primrose, 'you know what papa always says.'
'Papa does not know the world!' said Mrs. Coles, waving _that_
down. 'And how about your favourite German?' she said, returning
to the charge against Wych Hazel with equal ire and curiosity.
Wych Hazel answered again, still looking into the fire,
' "No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this
life; that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier." '
The girl spoke so "at liberty,"there was such freedom in the
loyalty, the folds of the banner waved so gladly above her head,
Mrs. Coles looked and hesitated. Then, spying as she thought a
joint in the armour, so to speak, she sent out an arrow.
'And you call _that_ a good marching uniform, I suppose,' she said
derisively, with a comprehensive glance that went from head to
foot.
Wych Hazel faced round upon her with eyes wide open at first in
displeased astonishment. But in a moment another look came,
startled, wondering, as when one finds a sudden unlooked-for clue.
Was _that_ it? Wych Hazel said to herself. Had it been left to Mrs.
Coles to tell her? "A good marching uniform?"Wych Hazel
thought she knew better now than ever before "what to do about
dress."
The ladies were going out, and the subject dropped. The morning
was filled with out-of-door business. At luncheon Mrs. Coles
declared herself fatigued and disposed to rest at home. She fondly
hoped the afternoon would be made lively by visiters; and to her
wish, so it was.
Among others came Miss Annabella Powder. This young lady had
not been wont to seem so fond of Hazel's society as the other
members of her family; indeed she rarely made her appearance at
Chickaree more frequently than civility demanded. To-day,
however, she made a long visit. It was not that she seemed to be
enjoying herself; she went languidly through a prolonged
conversation with Mrs. Coles, who had an endless number of
questions to ask about the winter, and especially about her pretty
sister Mrs. Charteris; with a latent view to supplemental
information also about Rollo and his wife, if such were to be had.
Annabella answered at random, made Mrs. Coles desperate, was
bored; and yet did not go away. At last she seized a chance and
moved to a seat beside Hazel. It was at a time when several other
people were present and just then engaged more or less with each
other and a common subject. Annabella had never been intimate
with Hazel. Therefore it was the more noticeable when with
depressed voice and somewhat hurried emphasis she said,
'I want to speak to youI want to say a word.How can I?'
'In this window' said Wych Hazel leading the way. 'They are
miles deep in Miss Burr's engagement.'
In the window was a most beautiful hyacinth. The two ladies
stood, one on this side and one on the other side, and spoke,not
about floriculture.
'I have no time here,' Annabella began breathlessly, bending down
to put her nose to the beautiful buff bells, which were sweet
enough at a greater distance. 'I want to see you alone, Mrs. Rollo.
You were always so kindWhen can I? I have a great deal to say.
Could you go and drive with me by and by? I don't know what
other way'
'It must be to-morrow, then,' said Hazel, straightening the stick
which supported the heavy head of flowers. 'To-day I am promised
to Mrs. Coles.'
'To-morrow, then? You are so kind, Mrs. Rollo!and you are the
only personAt three o'clock, then? and I will come in mamma's
carriage. You wont speak of it?'
'I never give such promises,' said Wych Hazel.
'But'Annabella's eye went anxiously to Mrs. Coles.
'Discretion is stronger than bonds.'
'And you are very discreet?' said the girl trying to laugh. 'Well, I
must trust you. But don't let any one know you are going out with
me!'
The next day Mrs. Coles was engaged to luncheon with a friend
and took Primrose with her. They had not returned when Miss
Powder came for Hazel, and the two ladies drove off in security. It
was not a day for a pleasure drive. Clouds hung low and grey; the
air had been keen and raw, with snow in its course somewhere.
Now it had become suspiciously milder. But neither lady was
thinking of pleasure.
'You are very good, Mrs. Rollo!' said Annabella, who evidently
had some difficulty in commanding herself, and was very unlike
her usual statuesque manner. For she was a handsome girl, of the
Madonna type, and either by temperament or for policy had long
adopted a calm style to match. To-day it was broken up.'I am
very much obliged to you!' she went on. 'I did not know whom to
speak to, and I _must_ get somebody to help me. And Josephine used
to think so much of you; I thought she would mind you if anybody.
I couldn't ask mammamamma don't know. O what shall I do?'
And with this most honest cry of despair, poor Annabella broke
down.
Hazel asked what was the matter? under the wild idea for a
moment that Miss Powder had found her heart and then rashly
broken it.
'Nobody knows' the girl began again, trying to get the better of
her agitation; 'it has not come out yet; nobody suspects; and I
thoughtif you could hinder it! If you cannot, there is no one that
can. Mamma has no idea. And it would just kill her to know. She
thinks it is all right. Poor mamma!'
'But what am I to hinder?' said Wych Hazel.
'Have you seen Josephine lately?'
'Yes.'
'Didn't she seem like herself?'
'Extremely like herself.'
'So she did when I saw her. And her house,did you see her
house?it was so nicely arranged and so pretty; and I thought she
was so happy'
'I never thought that,' said Wych Hazel.
'I did. I thought she had got what she wanted; we all thought so.
Nobody married this year had a better establishment than
Josephine; not one.'
'She got what she married for,' said Hazel; 'but Josephine's "wants"
were larger than that.'
'Were they?' said Annabella drearily. 'I didn't know it. I don't see
how they could be.'
Ironical words rose to Wych Hazel's lips; but she sent them back.
Somehow her own height of happiness made her strangely tender
and humble even towards such fallacy as this.
'Then you are not troubled about her?' she said enquiringly.
'Troubled!' Annabella echoed. 'Why she has left it all.'
'Left it!'Wych Hazel sat up straight in her place, facing round.
'Nobody knows yet; but she has left it. Mamma don't know. If I
can only keep it from mamma!'
'Keep it from Mrs. Powder?' Hazel repeated. 'Keep what? Where
has she gone? What can you be talking of, Miss Powder?'
'She has not gone far yet, but she means never to come back. I
know where she is; she is hiding. You see, Mr. Charteris is at
Albany; he has some business about some bill he wants to get
through the Legislature, and it will keep him there a while; and
Josey took the opportunity. She ran away; and I should never have
known where to, only that the person she went to came and told
me. It is a woman who used to be housekeeper for mamma; a very
respectable woman; and Josey went to her. Think of it! And she
won't come back. Not for me. And then I thought, if anybody
living could have any influence over her, it might be you. She
always thought all the world of you. Is it very bold in me to ask
you? But Mrs. Rollo, I was desperate!'
Poor Annabella's looks and tones did not belie her. Wych Hazel sat
back again, thinking.
'Marry a _man_,' she said slowly, 'and you may be able to live along
without an "establishment." But if you marry an establishment, the
small appendage that goes along with it But she must come
back, of course! at once,' Hazel exclaimed, retaking her impetuous
tones. 'Won't come?she _must_.'
'If you can only make her?' said Annabella. 'Nobody knows
anything yetand Charteris will not be home for days. But I have
not told you quite the whole. There is another person concerned. I
am afraid,'Annabella spoke with bated breath'she means to go
to Europe.'
'Stuart Nightingale'
'Oh do you know that?' Annabella burst forth with a cry that was
almost pitiful. 'Do you know that? Is there no hope? Can we do
nothing?'
Usually so calm and impassive, Miss Powder's manner to-day was
in a sort of shattered condition. Hazel's mention of Stuart's name
had startled her into an access of fear. And the difficulty of
managing a volcano from the outside came strongly into Wych
Hazel's mind. She answered slowly,
'I do not know. We will try.'
'And may I take you to her now? There is no time to lose.'
Hazel assented, thinking busily. 'This is _her_ resource,' she said to
herself. 'The pocket pistol would have been mine.'
The carriage rolled on now for a time without any more words
passing between its inmates. Both ladies were meditating, ways
and means and hindrances. The grey sky under which they had
begun their drive, seemed to be letting itself down closer and
closer upon the earth; and this low grey canopy was becoming
suspiciously smooth and uniform. The air was quite still, and had
as I said, suddenly grown mild. But neither of the two busy
thinkers noticed the signs abroad.
'Mrs. Rollo,' Annabella began after a long pause,'I am afraid you
can do nothing with Phinny. She always has had her own way, and
she is obstinate. Suppose you cannot make her listen to you; do
you think you could have any power with Mr. Nightingale?'
Hazel hesitated to answer, and Annabella went on.'I don't know
whether you knowMme. Lasalle has got one of her friends to
give him an office; and he is going out next month as consul to
Lisbon. If only he could be got off without her, then, you see, we
should be safe.'
'She would follow.'
'No, I don't think she would; she would not dare. Phinny is not
bold, in that way. Could you do anything with him, do you think?'
The accent of forlorn anxiety was touching from the usually so
imperturbable sister. She watched Wych Hazel's face and words
now.
It was a very mixed question. _Could_ she?truth to say, she felt
uncertain. Yet perhaps.But _might_ she? Would the attempt be
permitted, if Rollo knew? Was it breaking faith to try without his
knowledge? Or were there cases when she might lawfully and
secretly follow her own judgment against his? and was this one?
Hazel folded her hands over her "yes."
'Don't talk to me, please,' she said. 'I must think.'
Again the carriage rolled on with stillness inside. The grey air
outside grew almost tangible, it seemed so thick. Very fine snow
crystals were beginning to flicker down, but I think neither of the
ladies remarked it. Meanwhile the wheels of the carriage were no
longer rattling over paving stones; the streets and houses of the
city were left behind; a grey country, with houses scattered over it
and trees here and there standing, desolate and drear enough, was
to be seen from the carriage windows; but Wych Hazel hardly saw
it. At last the houses began again to stand apparently in some
regular order and took a more comfortable air; gardens and trees
and shrubbery lay between the houses and around them; then
suddenly the carriage turned round a corner and presently stopped.
Wych Hazel saw a small dwelling house of very humble
pretensions, but neat-looking, and with a small courtyard in front;
and now perceived by the signs that she was in a village. 'Where
have you brought me?' she said.
'O, Fort Washingtondidn't I tell you? Mrs. Rhodes lives here.
She is quite respectable.'
The snow was not yet falling, except in those fine isolated crystals.
But the branches of the trees that overshadowed the house were
beginning to sway hither and thither as if the wind were rising, and
a warning moan of the breeze came through the tree-tops. The
ladies went in at a little gate in the paling fence, and were admitted
immediately into the house by a neat elderly woman. A little entry-
way received them, having a door on each hand. Wych Hazel was
ushered into the room on the right, while Annabella disappeared
with the woman into the other opposite.
It looked dreary enough, for Josephine Charteris's hiding-place.
Respectable it was, to be sure. There was a gay ingrain carpet, a
little table set out with photographs of Mrs. Rhodes's friends and
relations, living and dead; around the walls hung a great number of
other pictures in cut walnut frames and resting on brackets of the
same. A large one of Abraham Lincoln held the first place among
these, and another engraving of a racehorse challenged attention,
with a large map of North America and the portrait of Jenny Lind.
Hazel felt as if she could not have borne the whole together for one
half hour, if she had been there on her own account. In a few
minutes Josephine came in. She was not different from what Hazel
had been accustomed to see her; not excited, not disturbed. Her
dress was rich, and a little careless; in both respects not unlike
Josephine. She received her visiter cordially enough.
'You are the only person I would see,' she said. 'How did you know
where I was? I have come here for rest. You know there _is_ no rest
as long as people know you are in town; it is nothing but go, go,
night and day. And here one has really a breath of country air. I
have brought a carriage load of books with meall the new novels
I could find; and I just lie abed and read all day. Dreadfully
useless, isn't it?' she went on, with a laugh; 'but you know I never
pretended to be anything else. Don't you think that is the great
point? not to pretend to be what you are not?'
'Well, why do you then?' said Wych Hazel.
'I?I don't. I think it's no use. People see through pretences. I only
pretend enough just to keep up appearances. Didn't I always tell
you exactly what I thought? I don't tell everybody.'
'Do you suppose I believe that you came here for the express
purpose of being snowed up,outside of theatres and Germans,
and other necessaries of life?'
'That is just what I want,' said Josephine. 'I wish it would snow
five feet deep. I would like nothing better than to be snowed up. I
would like to be desiccatedlike a man I was reading of
yesterday; he's in a French novel. Do you know, he was
_desiccated;_ he was a convict, you see, and the men of science
could try their experiments upon him; and they desiccated him and
laid him by; and he was forgotten, and years passed, and
everything changed in the world, and his children grew up, and his
friends diedif he had any friends; and people forgot what this
preparation was; and they cut off a bit of his ear to try under the
microscope whether it was an animal's skin or what it was. And
afterwards the skin was put in water and he came to life again
that was all he wanted, you know, like a rose of Jericho. I wish I
could be desiccated and kept awhile, till everybody was dead that I
know, and then come to life again.'
'What would be the pleasure of that?' said Hazel, watching her.
'I should never see Charteris any more. I suppose I shock youbut
what's the use of pretending? He's away in Albany now; and as
soon as he went, I ran. You see, it isn't at all a bad sort of a place
here. Little rooms, to be sure, but there's nobody in them but me;
and Rhodes is a capital cook, and she pets me, and I like to be
petted. And I have my own way here, and down in 40th street I
can't. With all the world outside the house, and a husband inside,
there is no place to breathe. I enjoy it here ever so much, and I
don't want to go back, ever! Don't you want to run away too, by
this time?'
'Then it is a real scheme, deep-laid and serious,' said Wych Hazel.
'Not the whim Mr. Nightingale calls it?'
'Mr. Nightingale!' said Josephine, her face changing and
darkening. 'What does he say of me? Has he spoken to you about
me? He doesn't know anything.'
'About anything.No. And never by any chance speaks the truth
about the few things he does know. He said that Mr. Charteris had
gone to Albany, and that Mrs. Charteris had the pretty whim to
follow him. "Touching," I think he called it.' The disdain in the
girl's voice was incomparable.
'That will do,' said Josephine. 'It's nobody's business whether I am
in Albany or not. Never mind him; talk to me. Why haven't I seen
you anywhere all winter? Does Dane Rollo want you to stay at
home, now he is married? like Charteris?'
'I am married too,' said Wych Hazel with a flash of her old self. 'So
take care what you say about him. Josephine, did _you_ tell that man
you were going to Albany?'
'Nonsense!' said Josephine laughing. 'I believe you are afraid to
answer. I know you used to like to have your own way. Did I tell
Stuart? No. What should I tell him for? I didn't tell him I was
going to Albany, because I wasn't. I was coming here; and that
wasn't worth telling a fib about. I came here to do what I like; and
I just do it from morning to night. I suppose you are learning to do
what you don't like. How does it feel?'
'I did not believe one word he said, all the time!' said Hazel, coolly
ignoring the insinuations. 'Why should Stuart Nightingale invent
falsehoods to cover the movements of Josephine Charteris?'
'Just as well as for anything else,' said Josephine laughing. 'I'm
much obliged to him for the attention, I'm sure. But you don't
answer, Hazel. I want to know how you and Dane get on together,
after all your fine theories? Dane Rollo was as lordly a man as I
ever saw, with all his easy ways; and you never were one to give
up your liberty. I suppose you won't confess. Now I am more
honest.'
Wych Hazel answered with a laugh,fresh and gladsome and
sweet,more convincing than a hundred words. But she was
grave again instantly. She left her chair and bringing a cushion to
Josephine's feet sat down there, leaned her arms on her friend's lap
and looked straight up into her face.
'Josephine,' she said, 'I am very, very much troubled about you.'
Josephine did not answer this. She looked at Hazel, and then her
look wandered to somewhat else; undeclarative, withdrawn into
herself.
'Josephine, you cannot have what does not belong to you, any
more in men than in money. And if you try to give away what
belongs to somebody else, nobody but a wretch will take it.'
'You are going to give me a moral lecture, because I came to Mrs.
Rhodes on a spree?' said Josephine, with a superficial kind of little
laugh. 'Isn't my time my own while Mr. Charteris is away?'
'No, it is not. Not to spend in a way that wrongs him. And you are
not your own, wherever he is.'
'You think I am a man's property just because I am married to him!
I don't. I think the man and the woman are equal, and both of them
are free. It is only among savages that women are slaves.'
Hazel let that pass. Keeping her folded hands on Josephine's lap,
she looked down, thinking.
'What sort of life have you led with Mr. Charteris so far?' she said,
not raising her eyes. 'Can you picture it for me?'
'Picture it!'Josephine put up her lip, and then she laughed with
seeming amusement. 'Did you ever see two chickens pulling at the
two ends of a worm? That's about it. John pulled one way, and I
pulled the other. Pleasant picture, isn't it? But that sort of thing
can't last forever.'
'No,' said Wych Hazel looking suddenly up,'but this _does_. A life
ignored by all respectable people; a name spurned with the foot
and scorned on the tongue. A dark spot, which only forgetfulness
can hide,and which nobody ever forgets! That other sort of thing
does end, Josephine, with death, or with patient endeavour; but _this_
thing, never!'
'You talk'said Josephine pouting. Then she suddenly broke out,
with her eyes full upon Hazel's face. 'Don't you think, if you had
never been happy in your life, you would like to try just for a little
how it feels?'
'Yes,' said Wych Hazel, 'but you are going to try misery;and not
for a little.'
'I am not trying misery here,' said the girl with a shrug of her
shoulders. 'I tell you, it's jolly. How did you know where to find
me?'
'There is a fair view, quite often, from the place where one step
towards it plunges you down thousands of feet. When you are left
alone in Lisbonand dare not come home to America_then_ you
will learn what misery is.'
Josephine started a little, and for once her colour stirred. Words
did not come readily. When they came, they were a somewhat
haughty enquiry what Hazel meant?
'Just what I say,' Hazel answered quietly.
'Did you come here to say it?'
'Yes.'
'That's Annabella. Well,I don't care. You know about it. You
know I can't live with Charteris.'
'Josephine, you _must_.'
'I _cannot_. You can't tell how it is. He don't care for me, and I don't
like him; and I don't think, for my part, it is religious for people to
live together that don't like each other.'
'This is a tragedy, not a farce,' Hazel said, knitting her brows.
'Leave fashions of speech a one side. John Charteris, with all his
faults, would never grow tired of you, Josephineif you gave him
half a chance to help it; but Stuart Nightingale _will_.'
'I am jolly tired of _him_,' cried Josephine with a burst. 'Charteris and
I can't live happy together. I know better. And it will be worse now
he has lost his money. I would rather die, Hazel. And I tell you, he
is tired of meand I should think he would. If you knew the life
I've led him, you would think so too. You needn't talk to me. I
would rather die right off, than go on living with him; and it would
kill me anyhow, and I'm not going to die that way.'
'There is honour in dying at one's post,' said Wych Hazel
thoughtfully,'even if it came to that. But to sail away on a
pleasure trip, with all one's dearest friends praying that the ship
might go down in mid-seas!'
Josephine sat still, looking with odd impassiveness into the fire;
then she remarked in the same way,
'My dearest friends don't do much praying. I guess they won't
drown me.'
'You may kill them,' said Hazel. 'Imagine people watching
Annabella and saying 'Poor thing!''What has become of the
other sister?''O you mustn't ask about her. You know'and then
heads will draw together. And your mother will see the shrugs and
catch the hints.'
'What makes you care?' said Josephine, without moving a muscle.
'I believe you must have liked him a little yourself.'
'I liked him such a very little,' said Wych Hazel, 'that a year ago I
cut up his heart into bits. He has patched them together again,
but the stitches shew.'
'Stuart was poor,' said Josephine. 'I knew it all the time.'
Wych Hazel's brows drew together, but the words got no further
notice.
'Josephine, you married for diamonds. I will give you diamonds
every week for a year, if you will go back to your place and stay
there.'
'I don't care for diamonds,' said Josephine very coldly.
'What _do_ you care for?'the grave young eyes looked up eagerly.
'Not much'said Josephine drearily, and the words were
inexpressibly sad from such young lips. 'But I am not going to live
in that prison in 40th street and with that jailer Charteris any
more!'
'Josephine, you could change all that. There is no prisonand no
jailerfor any woman of whom it is true: "The heart of her
husband doth safely trust in her." '
'It wouldn't be very safe for Charteris to trust me,' said Josephine,
with a hard, metallic laugh. 'I never was to be trusted. I know what
you have come for, Hazel, and I know who has brought you; it's
Annabella; but it's no use. You may give up the job. I know all you
want to say, and I'm not going to have you say it; and you have
said it, besides. Look here. A marriage isn't a real marriage when
people don't care for each other. Do you think a woman is bound
by a few words said over her by a man in a black silk gown? by an
incantation, like the savages? It would make me downright wicked
to go on living with John Charteris; you ought to want to save me
from that. I am always a great deal bettermore _religious_when
I am happy, than when I am miserable. It always rouses up all
there is bad in me, to try to make me do something I don't want to
do. I can't imagine how you get along with Dane Rollo; but that is
you affair; this is mine. Where is Annabella?'
Before Hazel could stop her, she had flown across the hall to the
room on the other side, whence she fetched back her sister. The
conversation was not renewed. In ignorance of what fruit the
interview might have borne, or what its results might be,
Annabella dared not touch the matter; and Josephine gave her no
chance. She kept up a rattling fire of nonsense, until the two ladies
were forced to leave her.
The day was darkening fast now towards the early evening. Fine
snow was falling thick, and the wind came in gusts. There was no
time to be lost in getting home. Yet Annabella paused at the very
coach door and looked at Hazel. 'Have you done anything?' she
asked anxiously.
At the instant a gentleman ran against them with an umbrella, and
lifting the same suddenly to make his excuses, a very familiar
figure was revealed to them. Stuart Nightingale himself. A flash of
disagreeable expression crossed his face for that one second of
surprise, then he had regained his usual manner.
'Quel plaisir!' he cried, bowing low. 'Two such ladies, in the snow,
here! at Fort Washington! The charms of the surprise is manifold.
What has procured it? mercy, or vanity? One or the other it must
be. A sick friend?or a French mantua-maker? But you are never
going to drive back to New York in this awful storm?'
Annabella drew herself up and made no answer. Wych Hazel
looked at the snow.
'Good evening,' she said. 'The storm is not much.'
They were to have more of it, however, than she had bargained for.
Stuart's remonstrances were not listened to; the ladies entered their
carriage and drove off. But their driver, who was not Mrs.
Powder's servant, had improved his leisure time during their stay
in the house by making visits to a neighbouring drinking saloon;
and now, confused by the mingled efforts of wind and brandy,
took the road north instead of south from the village. To spare her
sister, and indeed herself, Annabella had taken a hackney coach,
and this was what came of it. The ladies were thinking of
something else and did not see what their charioteer was doing.
Annabella broke at last a silence which had prevailed for some
time.
'What did she say?'
'Said she didn't care.'
'She would not listen to you!'
'Not this time.'
'Then there is no chance,' cried Annabella in despair. 'They will
make all their arrangements now. Stuart is going to sail the week
after next, I know.'
'I wish I could get speech of him!' said Wych Hazel, knitting her
brows in the darkness.
This too was to fall to her lot in an unexpected manner and
measure. It might have been three quarters of an hour, or more,
from the time of their meeting that gentleman in front of Mrs.
Rhodes's cottage, when Stuart happened to be in the street again
and crossing the main road at the corner where the carriage had
turned the wrong way. The storm had now grown to be furious;
wind and snow driving so across the street that to hold his
umbrella was no longer possible. As with difficulty he closed it, a
carriage stopped immediately before him, the door opened, and
two ladies sprang out into the storm. He had nearly run against
them again, before he saw that they were the same ladies. And they
saw him.
'O Mr. Nightingale!' cried the foremost, forgetting everything in
distress,'do help us. We've got a drunken coachman.'
'Miss Powder!But how are you here yet?'
'O he took us ever so far on the way to Albany before we found it
out. He's quite stupid. What shall we do?'
A few steps in the snow, taken with extreme difficulty, brought
them to the shelter of a village hotel. Here the matter was debated.
Stuart advised their spending the night quietly where they were.
But Annabella would not listen to this. "Her mother," "her
mother"she urged; "her mother would be frightened to death."
Write, Stuart suggested. Miss Powder did not believe any
messenger would go. Stuart offered to be the messenger himself.
Annabella refused, obstinately. I think she did not put enough faith
in him even for that. She would have a carriage and proceed on her
journey forthwith. Annabella shewed herself determined, and
Hazel did not oppose her decisions, nor have much to say in the
matter generally.
So a carriage was got ready; it was necessary to offer a huge fee to
tempt any man out that night, but however that was arranged; and
in half an hour the ladies were able to set forth again on their
interrupted journey. But one circumstance neither of them had
counted upon. Mr. Nightingale, after putting them into the carriage
and giving directions to the driver, coolly stepped in himself and
took the opposite seat.
'Mr. Nightingale!' said Miss Powder'_you_ are not going?'
'Certainly I am. You two ladies cannot be allowed to take such a
journey alone. I should expect Gov. Powder never to speak to me
again, and coffee and pistols with Rollo would be too good for me.
To say nothing of the punishment of my own conscience.'
The drive from that point was extremely silent, and never to be
forgotten by at least two of the party. The violence of the storm
was quite enough to justify the third in intruding himself upon
their company, though I am afraid nobody thanked him for it.
Wind and snow and darkness made any progress difficult, and any
but very slow progress out of the question. The horses crept along
the road, which they were not infrequently left to find by
themselves; the snow whirled and beat now against one window
and now upon the other with a fury and a rush which were
somewhat appalling. Still the horses struggled on, though all the
light there was abroad came from the glimmer of the snow itself,
unless when a gleam shot out into the night from the window of
some house. They did keep on their way, but it was doubtful at
times if they could. Within the carriage conversation was limited
to remarks about the weather and the cold, and did not flourish at
that, though the cold did. To keep warm became impossible.
It was a great relief at last to feel pavement under the wheels,
which they could do in the broad places where wind had swept the
street bare; and gaslights looked very kindly, flaring along the line
of way. They could see the storm then! How it raged and drove
through the streets, driving everybody to the shelter of a house that
had a house to go to; and those who had none were slunk away
into other hiding places. The wind and the snow had cleared the
deserted streets; an occasional carriage was rarely met.
'Set me down first, please,' said Annabella, pressing Wych Hazel's
hand to mark her meaning. 'My mother must be in distressand it
is just as near going that way.'
Stuart laughed a little, but he did not speak his thoughts which
went to the possible anxiety of some other people. With some
difficulty he hailed the coachman and gave the order, and presently
Miss Powder was deposited at her own door. Stuart gave the next
order and jumped in again.
Now what should Wych Hazel do? During that minute, while she
watched the two figures standing in the driving storm before Mrs.
Powder's door, she had taken a comprehensive view of the
situation, and made up her mind.
'Sit there, please,' she said, motioning the incomer to his former
place on the front seat. 'I want to talk business.' Since leaving Fort
Washington she had hardly opened her lips; but now the well-
remembered voice came out clear and sweet and with a ring of
grave dignity.
'Am I to suppose you do not think me worthy to talk business
alongside of you?' said Stuart lightly, and obeying.
Wych Hazel left that question to answer itself. She was silent a
minute, her hands holding each other fast.
'Mr. Nightingale,' she said, 'you once asked me if I liked to hear
the truth told about myself. Do you?'
'From you!anything,' he answered gallantly. 'Your voice never
speaks harsh judgmentsthough I am afraid the truth about
myself would be less than flattering. What is it, Mrs. Rollo? I am
curious. It is said, no man knows himself.'
'I have been told,' said Wych Hazeland she hesitated, and then
went on again with quick utterance,how intensely disagreeable it
all was to her!'I have been told this afternoon, that a year ago
you wanted my fortune. Stop!I do not care two straws whether
you did or not!But I wished to say, that upon certain conditions
you can have part of it now. Think before you refuse, Mr.
Nightingale. No one will ever offer you so much againin
exchange for so little.'
A pause.
'I am at a loss,' he began in a changed voice, 'how any one can
have induced you to believe' And there he stopped. But Wych
Hazel gave him no help. She sat looking out into the night, the
gaslights flaring in from time to time upon her face. Had she
grown fairer than ever?
'Everything is said about everybody,' he said haughtily after a
little. 'I do not know why I should fare better than others. The _truth_
about anybody is never public report. It is assumed in the case of
every woman who has a fortune, that the man who seeks her,
wants it. The gentleman who has had the honour of Miss
Kennedy's choice has certainly not escaped the imputation,
however he may deserve it no more than I.'
'That is not business,' she said in quiet tones. 'If you please, we will
discuss nothing else.'
'I am not so happy as to know of any business between us,' he said
in the same haughty manner,'great as the honour and pleasure
would be.'
'It will save time,' said Wych Hazel, 'to waste none in
preliminaries. I want to buy up your present bad undertakingand
the price is for you to name.'And she looked out again into the
white darkness, and wondered if this was to be her first night
adventure wherein Mr. Rollo did not appear to take her home.
'Pardon me, I am very much at a loss to know what you mean.
Only, through the confusion, I seem to perceive that Mrs. Rollo
has lost the kind opinion which Miss Kennedy used to have of me.'
He heard a soft exclamation of impatienceextremely like 'Miss
Kennedy!'Then came deliberate words again.
'Mrs. Charteris,' she said, 'has no money of her own. I offer you
what you will to let her alone. To break with her utterly. Do you
understand? I believe if you pledged me your word to that, you
would keep it.'
'Thank you!' he said in the same tone. 'May I venture to ask, how
you can possibly suppose that I have anything to "break" with any
other woman, after you have broken with me?'
The words were beneath notice. Wych hazel went on as if she had
not heard them.
'And if you will come to a decision soon,now, while I am
here,I shall be very glad.'
'Mrs. Rollo supposes that everything can be done with money!'
Stuart said scornfully. 'It is a not unnatural delusion with those
who have an unusual supply.'
'No,' said Wych Hazel in the same calm way; 'I do not suppose
that. I know better. But with nothing in the other scale, money and
honour have their weight.'
'Mrs. Rollo probably has for the moment forgotten that she is not
still Miss Kennedy. She will forgive me the remark.'
'I have not forgotten that either. If I had, I should not be here
talking to Mr. Nightingale.'
'Why not?' said he quickly.
'The fact is enough. I am dealing only with facts to-night. Business
facts.' And Wych Hazel leaned back and was silent; listening to the
dull roll of the wheels, and the sharper swirl of snow and hail
against the windows. A few minutes of silence allowed these to be
heard. Then the carriage stopped.
'You know,' said Wych Hazel suddenly, 'there are two names at
stake. What do you decide, Mr. Nightingale?'
The carriage door opened; he had no time to reply.