Wych Hazel Part 57

'Do you remember once--a great while ago--promising to give me an afternoon some time?'

'Did I? it must have been a great while,' said Wych Hazel. 'O yes, I do remember. Well?'

'Will you put to-morrow afternoon at my disposal?'

'If the thing to be done is within walking distance. Mr.

Falkirk will not let me ride.'

'I have brought home, I think, a nice little saddle horse, which I should like to have you try,' Rollo went on, not heeding this.

'Oh!' she said, with unmistakeable longing. 'But he has made me refuse at least five-and-forty just such horses this summer.'

'He will be amenable to reason to-morrow,' said Rollo comfortably. 'Shall I tell you what I want to do with you after I have got you on horseback?'

'Let me run--I hope,' said Wych Hazel.

'I am going to take you where you have never been yet; through Morton Hollow and the mills, to see my old nurse, who lives a little way beyond them.'

'I am not going through Morton Hollow,' said Hazel, decidedly.

'Why not?'

'You never heard of seven _women_ who could "render a reason,"

did you?' said the girl, with a laugh in her voice.

'My old nurse is a character,' Rollo went on. 'She is a Norse woman. My mother, I must tell you, was also a Norse woman. My father's business at one time kept him much in Denmark and at St. Petersburg; and at Copenhagen he met my mother, who had been sent there to school. And when my mother forsook her country, the old nurse, not old then, left all to go with her.

She was my nurse in my earliest years, and remained our most faithful friend while we were a family. She made afterwards a not very happy marriage; and when her husband died just before I went to Europe, she was left alone and poor. I arranged a small house for her in the neighbourhood of the Hollow; and there she lives--a kind of mysterious oracle to the people about. And her greatest earthly pleasure, I suppose, is to have me come and see her. Gyda Boerresen is her name.'

'I like to see people enjoy their greatest earthly happiness,'

said Hazel thoughtfully. 'I never did many times. Or at least not many people.'

'I want you to know Gyda. I am not superst.i.tious, like some of the ignorant people who visit her; but yet'--he paused. 'If ever you were in need of womanly counsel--if ever you wanted sympathizing and wise help--to find your way out of perplexities--I should say, go to Gyda. If any one could give that sort of help, she would. And it is almost like going to a pythoness', added Rollo thoughtfully; 'she is so cut off from the world and its people.'

They were almost at Mr. Falkirk's cottage. Rollo was silent a moment, then said, 'May I ask Mrs. Byw.a.n.k to shew me hospitality again to-night? I don't want to go home.'

'Mrs. Byw.a.n.k will be only too glad,' said Wych Hazel. 'The little tower room always goes by your name, Mr. Rollo.'

'She did not put me there the last time,' said he, laughing, 'I was lodged in state and splendour! Well, good night. I wish you were coming to breakfast.'

She stood silent a minute, looking down. Could she? Might she?

Would it do? Run away from Mr. Falkirk for a private frolic on the hill? It was a great temptation!

And only doing the honours of her own house, when all was said. Would it be strange? Would he think it strange? That is, not Mr. Falkirk, but Mr. Rollo. Was he a man of sense, she wondered, who always disapproved of everything? And with that a child's look of search and exploration sought his face.

There was a grave sparkle in the eyes she met looking down at her.

'I see a question in your face,' said he. 'And I answer,--yes!'

'Very unsafe to answer anything in my face,' said the girl, hastily withdrawing her eyes. 'There were _two_ questions in my mind. Good night, Mr. Rollo, and thank you.'

'Think better of it!'--said Rollo, as he got into the carriage again.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

BREAKFAST FOR THREE.

Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, inspecting her breakfast table from time to time, certainly had Mr. Rollo's wish in her heart, even though it got no further. And setting on orange marmalade for him, she pleased herself with also setting on honey for _her;_ even though the portrait of a little child was all the sign of her young lady the room could boast. But long habit had made it second nature to watch that face, no matter what else she was about. Mrs. Byw.a.n.k looked and smiled and sighed, and bent down to see if the honey was perfect. It was late in the morning now: Mr. Rollo's slumbers had been allowed to extend themselves somewhat indefinitely in the direction which most men approve; and still breakfast waited, down stairs; and Mrs.

Byw.a.n.k at the tower window gazed down the slope and over the trees towards Wych Hazel's present abiding place. Not expecting to see her, but watching over her in her heart. So standing, she was hailed by a cheery 'good morning' behind her.

'I suppose people who turn day into night have no right to expect the day will keep its promises to them; but you are better than my deserts, Mrs. Byw.a.n.k. I see a breakfast table!'

'Always ready for you, Mr. Rollo! And you must be very ready too, by this time,' she said, sounding her whistle down the stairs. 'Was Miss Wych at Oak Hill last night, sir?'

'I had the pleasure of bringing her home.'

'O, did you, sir?' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, with a quick look. 'She told me she meant to go,--but her mind comes about wonderfully sudden sometimes. Here is breakfast, Mr. Rollo. Will you take your old seat?'

'I think it will always come about in the right place at last,' said Rollo, as he complied with the invitation. The old housekeeper drew a sigh, looking up at the little picture.

'My pretty one!' she said. Then applied herself to filling Mr.

Rollo's cup. 'Yes, sir, you're right,' she went on after a pause. 'And she never would stop in a wrong one, not a minute, but for just a few things.'

'Mrs. Byw.a.n.k,' said the young man, 'those few things are all around her.'

'You'd think so if you could hear the serenades I hear,' said the housekeeper, 'and see the flowers--and hear the compliments. She tells them to me sometimes, making fun. But the trouble is with Miss Wych, she never will see the world with any eyes but her own,--and who's to make her?'

A problem which Rollo considered in silence, and probably swallowed instead of his coffee.

'Does she speak freely to you of her impressions, and of what she is doing or going to do?'

'Free as a child, Mr. Rollo! Always tells me what dress she'll wear--and then afterwards how people liked it. And what she does, and what they want her to do. And why her head is not turned,' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, in conclusion, 'puzzles _my_ head, I'm sure. Mere handling so many hearts might do it.'

Mr. Rollo pursued his breakfast rather thoughtfully and nonchalantly for a time.

'Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, Mrs. Coles is returned.'

'Surely!' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, with a slight start. 'Then she'll make mischief,--or it'll be the first chance she ever missed.'

'And--the world around her is not so simple as your young lady believes.'

'No, no!' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, earnestly. 'Well I know that! But just there comes in another trouble I spoke of,--you can't make her believe it, sir,--and so I'm not sure it's always wise to try.' She paused, in a sort of hesitating way; glancing from her teaspoon to her guest.

'It's not wise to try at all,' said he, smiling--a sort of warm genial smile, which went over the table to his old friend. 'At the same time,'--and his face grew sternly grave,--'it may be desirable to have some other wisdom come in to her help. I wish,--if you are in any doubt or perplexity about anything you hear, and it may be only a little thing that may give you the impression,--I wish you would call me in.'

'Well sir,--that just touches my thought,' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k.

'Or my thought that. For I couldn't do it, Mr. Rollo, unless,'--and an unmistakeable look of anxious inquiry came across the table. 'Unless, you know, sir,' she went on, looking away again,--'unless--excuse my freedom--the conditions of the will are to be carried out.' And the old housekeeper called for hot waffles, and otherwise apologized for touching the subject, by quitting it at once. As soon as all this bustle was disposed of, her guest met her eye again with a frank, bright smile.