CHAPTER XXXII.

SUPPER.

It was not exactly a cheery evening in Hazel's deserted rooms.

Rollo had the entertainment of Prim and Mrs. Coles upon his

hands, and was besides all the time busied in baffling her efforts to

find out whether he was anxious, whether he knew where Wych

Hazel had gone, whether he was aware of what kept her, and

whether he did not think something ought to be done. This sort of

exercise grows wearisome in time; and Rollo finally gave it up and

fled. He put on coat and hat and repaired to the great entrance of

the hotel, which seemed to him just then if not a point of rest, yet

to be nearest to that point. Here he had a view of the storm, which

he studied at leisure in the intervals of watching everything on

wheels that went by. He knew who it was, when Hazel's carriage

drew up at last, and was by the side if it before it had fairly

stopped.

He opened the door and took Hazel out, and led her into the house,

without paying attention to anything but her. He took her up stairs

to her own room, which he reached without going through the

parlour where Mrs. Coles and Prim were. There he threw off his

own snow-covered wrappings and then hers, that he might wrap

her in his arms. He did not say what he had been feeling, but his

manner of great gladness left Hazel to infer several things. And for

a minute or two she was passive, shewing a pale, tired face. But

then there swept over her such a sense of what she had, and of

what she had escaped, that she could only lay her head down on

his shoulder and be still; a shiver running over her as she

remembered other souls adrift.

'Have you dined, in the snow, anywhere?' were Rollo's first

coherent words. He was not given to talking sentiment. At the

same time he was gathering Hazel's cold hands into his.

'I could not help it, Olaf!' Hazel broke out. 'I have been whirled

about like a brown snow-flake.'

'And come home frozen.' He rang the bell for Phoebe, admonished

her to be quick, and went back to the drawing room. When Hazel a

few minutes later followed him, she found a servant bringing in

supper. Primrose gave her a welcome kiss, but the other lady

exclaimed,—eyes and senses on the alert,—

'Well, my dear! we have been uneasy about you.'

'Nobody ever need—about me,' said Wych Hazel. 'Unless there is

something afoot more serious than a snow-storm.'

'It's a wild storm, isn't it?'

'Rather wild. You know, wild things are in my line, Mrs. Coles.'

'Not _now_, my dear, I hope. You have not come far in the snow,

surely?'

'A little way seems far in such a drive, don't you know it,

Prudentia?' remarked Rollo. And he took Wych Hazel out of the

chair where she had placed herself and transferred her to a softer

one.

'But Dane,' Mrs. Coles continued, with her own very peculiar

mixture of raillery and insinuation,—'aren't you curious? or do you

know all already?'

'I know all I want to know at present, thank you.'

'Does he always let you do just what you like, Hazel?'

'What I like?' Hazel repeated dreamily, lifting her eyes to the

person in question: a swift, secret glance of allegiance which to-

night came to him very often. Then she laughed and coloured a

little. 'I hardly know,' she said. 'My "like" and his "let" are mixed

up in inextricable confusion.'

'My dear!' said Mrs. Coles in mock reprehension, but smiling.

'What an admission!'

And I think an inner voice of wisdom admonished her to let the

matter rest and say no more; but Mrs. Coles was in a sort of malign

fascination at the picture before her. Hazel was in her easy chair;

Dane had brought up a little low stand before her, and sitting

between her and the supper table he was taking care of both; but

the care bestowed at his left hand was something the like of which

was strange to see. The late Mr. Coles had never introduced his

wife to anything of the kind; indeed he had been one of the men

who rather expect that their wives shall wait upon them. It was not

Dane was neglecting other people, or that he was making any

parade whatever; on the contrary, he was fully attentive to every

want of everybody, and of Hazel he was only taking care; yet it

was a sort of care and given in a manner that put miles and miles

between her and all other women. I suppose Mrs. Coles felt herself

somehow out in the cold, for it was certainly with a little spice of

irritation that she opened her lips the next time she spoke.

'But Dane,' with an uneasy little laugh, 'I really think you are to

blame, to allow this little lady—so very young a lady as she is—to

run about alone at night in this way. I have really been anxious. I

thought you would be a better guardian, when you had the keys

once safe.'

'Will you have some salad, Prudentia?'

'Salad?—O no, my dear! I think it is very unwholesome.'

'Take some ice.'—

A turn, or at least a check, was given to the conversation. Mrs.

Coles could not refuse the ice. Primrose would eat no supper, and

was evidently longing to get her sister away. Rollo cut for Hazel a

slice of game.

'But Dane,' said Mrs. Coles presently, 'don't you think it is very

imprudent to eat such heavy things late at night? Coffee and salad,

and game? This ice is delicious.'

'So is the salad,' said Dane. 'Will you have a bit of the pheasant,

Prudentia?'

'My dear! no. I don't see how you reconcile it with your new

principles, either, to have such suppers.'

Rollo's eye had a flash of laughter in it as it went to Wych Hazel.

He asked gravely, 'Why not?'

'Mr. Rollo and I have agreed about partridges,'—said Hazel, in

whom also fun was beginning to stir, though her eyes kept a far-off

look now and then.

'Agreed about partridges!' repeated Mrs. Coles.

'Yes,' said Dane. 'You had better take some, Prudentia. Rosy,—a

little bit with some bread would not hurt you.'

'But the expense, Dane!'

'Yes. What about it?'

'The expense must be fearful of such a supper—in such a house as

this.'

'A man who wants his horse to do him good service never asks

about the price of oats.'

'Dane!' said Mrs. Coles laughing and bridling, 'do you mean to

compare your wife to your horse?'

Rollo was quite silent, long enough to have the silence marked.

And when he spoke, it was not to Mrs. Coles, neither did he

honour her by so much as a look, during the rest of her stay in the

room. Primrose made the stay as short as she could, and Mrs.

Coles who felt that she had lost her footing and did not know how

to regain it, suffered herself to be carried away. But while

Primrose got a kiss, she was dismissed by her host with a very

ceremonious reverence. He had opened the door for the two and

closed it behind them. Coming back he bent down to touch his lips

to Wych Hazel's cheek.

'If you have any remarks to make, make them!' he said. 'I am

defenceless, and at your mercy.'

But for once Wych Hazel was in a region of air quite beyond Mrs.

Coles. She looked up at him wistfully.

'I do not understand,' she said, 'how you ever came to care about

me! It always was a puzzle,—and never so much as to-night.' The

brown eyes were strangely soft and luminous and humble.

'How is that?' said he quietly, taking his former place beside her

and making suggestions of addition to her supper. But Hazel laid

down her fork, giving her plate a little push, in the fashion of old

times.

'I have been looking into depths,' she said,—'abysses. I think I was

never really near them, but I might have seemed so.'

'What sort of abysses? And in the mean time, take some ice—Mrs.

Coles was correct in one thing she said.'

'Dane,' Hazel said abstractedly, 'do you think you could be a

success where I have proved a failure?'

'Where have you proved a failure?'

Hazel neglected her ice and leaned back in her chair.

'I used to think I could do things,' she said. 'And I have spent this

whole afternoon and evening to no sort of purpose.'

'It is instructive, to learn sometimes that one cannot do things'—

said Dane. I suppose he had a little curiosity, but not much, for he

knew he should hear what there was to hear; and he was thinking

much more of Hazel than of what she had or had not failed to do.

So he spoke in a rather careless amused tone.

'Very!' Hazel answered.—'Dane, in buying up a man, is it more

skilful to set a price—or to let him name it himself?'

'If you want to buy me,—I should say, let me set my own price.'

'Thank you. Even my extravagance does not desire such waste. But

I want to buy off that nephew of Mme. Lasalle's. And—being

worth nothing—how much is he worth? I believe I ought to have

offered a definite sum,' she went on, half to herself.

Dane roused up fully now, and demanded to know what she was

talking about?

'He is going to Lisbon,' said Hazel, too engrossed to be very

methodical in her details. 'And Josephine Charteris means to go

with him. I can do nothing at all with _her_—and I _must_ do

something with him.'

'Not with Stuart Nightingale—if that is what you mean.'

'I must.'

'I can find a substitute for that "must." What do you want to do,

Wych?'

'Put them both under bonds. But I have tried, and failed.'

'You have tried Josephine? Do you say that she wants to go with

him?'

'Says she _will_ go. Will not even take diamonds instead—and they

were her price,' said Wych Hazel with sorrowful disgust. 'So then I

tried him.'

'Tried _him!_ Have you seen Nightingale?'

'O yes. Annabella let him get her carriage and drive home with us.

_I_ would not,' said Wych Hazel with energy. 'Not if I had waited

there all night.'

'Was he in the carriage with you?'

'Coming home,—yes. And after Annabella was set down, I tried

him with everything I could think of,—or everything _he_ could,

rather.'

'I am very curious to hear what arguments you made use of.' Dane

bent a little to look at the speaker, with a face half amused and

wholly intent. Wych Hazel laughed softly.

'I am not a very round-about person,' she said. 'And if he had had

either honour or conscience or feeling, there would have been no

need for my speaking at all. And Josephine had just assured me

that last year he wanted my fortune—so I asked him how much he

would like to have now. In effect.'

'With the understanding that he might have what he spoke for?'

'O yes. Of course,' she added with a flush and a glance, 'he knew

that I could only mean within certain limits. I did not tell him what

they were.'

Rollo looked at her for a moment almost sternly; but then he broke

into a laugh. 'It is like Wych Hazel!' he said.

'Was it absurd?' said the girl, the crimson starting again. 'But I do

not see why. I suppose that is like me too,' she added with a half

laugh.

'I do not think you absurd,' said Rollo, laughing still. 'Perhaps—

just a trifle—unbusinesslike.'

'But I thought it was good business to say exactly what you mean?'

'If you were practised in rifle shooting, I should tell you that you

forgot to allow for the wind.'

'Well, as I am not?'—said Wych Hazel looking up at him.

'For instance. You are practising at a mark, perhaps eight hundred

yards off; the first time you aim for the bull's eye, and hit it.

Between the first shot and the second however, a breeze has

sprung up. That alters the case. The second time you will not aim

at the bull's eye, but perhaps—according to the force of the wind—

a dozen feet to one side of it.'

'Did that ever happen in your shooting?'

'Such a thing has happened in my shooting.'

'And you hit it, that second time?'

'I hit it—yes.'

Wych hazel looked soberly into the fire. 'You will never make a

sharp-shooter of me, Olaf,' she said. 'I think nothing will ever

make me learn calculation.'

'What did Nightingale answer you?'

'He said—or intimated—that I thought I had my old power still,'

said Hazel slowly.

'He is one of the men that have their price. But you forgot that his

pride must have its price too.'

'Pride? Can he have any pride left? It was just because—because

he used to like to do what I said, that he would not now.'

'I do not understand yet how he came to be driving with you.'

'Didn't I say that? Why,' said Wych Hazel running rapidly over

details, 'Annabella did not have their own carriage, but a hack and

a tipsy driver,—for Josephine's sake, you know. And when we left

Josephine he set off up north to see where the snow came from.

And we made him turn round, and then jumped out when we got

back to Fort Washington. And there we ran against that man

again.'

'How came you in Fort Washington?' Rollo asked, his eyes

snapping in the midst of the very grave intentness with which he

was listening.

'That is where Josephine has hid away.'

'Nightingale drove in from Fort Washington with you?'

'Yes.'

'Does anybody know about this business?' Rollo asked after a

slight pause. 'Not Josephine's mother?'

'Nobody. Annabella thought I might have some influence—but if I

could not keep her from marrying Charteris in the first place—

What _can_ be done?'

'I will try. But Wych, I am going to make one regulation.'

'Yes. Well?' said Wych Hazel, with a certain sheer at the name of

"regulations."

'Whenever you go out in a carriage, here or in the country, I wish

you always to be attended by a trustworthy servant—either Lewis,

or Byrom, or Reo.'

'But my dear friend, in this case I could not have taken either.

Don't you see?'

'I do not see anything,' said Rollo lazily. 'Not even that I am your

dear friend.'

'I have known you fail on that point before,' said Wych Hazel

demurely. 'But the thing to see is that Mr. Rollo's regulations

cannot always be carried out.'

'I cannot think of a case where I should allow the exception.'

'I'll tell you as they come. Then will you try what you can do with

that wretch?' she went on eagerly.

'I think we can manage him. But I shall not see him myself, Wych;

that would be to start his pride again; and of all human passions

pride is the strongest that I know—unless possibly jealousy. I must

have a medium, and I think I know the right one. I propose to offer

him, not carte blanche, but, say, five thousand a year for five years;

on condition that during that time he neither joins nor is joined by

Josephine, wherever he may be. He wants money badly, as you

say. I think he will accept my offer.'

'You had better say for life,' said Wych Hazel quickly.

'No,' said Rollo smiling; 'that would be bad economy. Some day

you will know what economy is; in the mean while, believe me.

He is not worth more than twenty-five thousand dollars; and _she_ is

not. And if she is obliged to wait five years, she will never go to

him after that. As to the rest,'—and Rollo bent his head caressingly

by the side of Wych Hazel's—'where my regulations cannot be

carried out, Hazel,—do not go.'

'But Olaf—'

'Well, Wych?' he said, looking at her with the grey eyes full of

love, and full of delight in her, and full of admiration of her; not

the less, soft as they were, full also of that expression which is

called masterful when people do not like it. Wych Hazel looked up

and then down, silently knotting her fingers in and out. Rollo put

his lips down to hers, but waited for what she had to say. It did not

come at once.

'I am trying to push myself out of sight,' she said frankly with one

of her sweet laughs. 'And I am a hard one to push, sometimes. But

for my work—suppose I have something to do which cannot be

done so?'

'Don't do it.'

'Really? Suppose it ought to be done?'

'It is quite plain that in such a case, it ought not to be done by you.'

'You leave me no more room for discretion, than Mr. Rollo did in

the old time,' said Wych Hazel soberly. 'Well—I hope you will

succeed with that man,' she went on in her former tone; 'but he was

not in a pretty mood to-day.'

'We shall succeed with him. And when you get into any perplexity,

what hinders Mrs. Rollo from applying to her husband? Or in a

case of need, employing him?'

'I always did like to work out my own perplexities.'

Rollo laughed at her a little, and let the subject drop.

But the business of Nightingale he took up in earnest the next day.

Stuart shewed some fencing, which however was widely distant

from fight; and in the end gave in to Rollo's proposal, with the

exception that he contrived to bargain for five thousand down in

addition. Rollo and Hazel were well content. Stuart received the

guaranty of thirty thousand dollars, and Josephine Charteris was

saved to her family and to society. And nobody knew anything

about it.