Wych Hazel Part 75

There was a laugh at this sally; and as several gentlemen sprang eagerly forward, Kitty began to hum--' "This is the maiden all forlorn," '--but for once Hazel did not listen.

'Flirt somebody away!' she was thinking,--'I should like to see myself doing it! I shall take the very first that comes.'

But alas for good intentions in a bad place! The room was long, and some people were further off, and others close at hand, and the very first that looked over her chair was Mr.

Morton! Hazel gave a toss of her handkerchief that half blew him away. And the next--yes, the very next, was the man whom she had been eluding all the evening. This time the hand moved more languidly, and her eyes never looked up, and her cheeks rivalled the scarlet flowers.

'She'll learn,--O, she'll learn!' cried Kitty Fisher. 'Never saw it better done in my life. Such a discriminating touch!'

'Is there anybody else to escape?' thought poor Hazel, her breath coming quick. And then she was so delighted to see Captain Lancaster's pleasant face, that she shewed it in her own; and the gentleman took an amount of encouragement therefrom which by no means belonged to him. He waited upon Miss Kennedy for the rest of that evening with a devotion which everybody saw except herself. No such trifles as a man's devotion got even a pa.s.sing notice from her. For the girl was feeling desperate. How many times that night had she been betrayed into what she disliked and despised and had said she never would do? If Rollo had not been there, perhaps she would have felt only shame,--as it was, for the time it made her reckless. 'Le miroir' gave place to other figures, and still Miss Kennedy shewed no second wish to retire and join the lookers-on. But every time the demands of the dance made _her_ choose a partner--when it was her woman's right to be chosen!-- every time she was pa.s.sed rapidly from hand to hand without even the poor power of choice, Wych Hazel avenged it on herself by the sharpest silent comments; while to her partners, she was proud, and reserved, and brilliant, and generally 'touch-me-not;' until they too were desperate--with admiration.

If Rollo was half wild in secret he had the power to keep it to himself. His demeanour was composed, and _not_ abstracted; his attentions to others, when occasion was, for he did not seek it, as gracefully rendered as usual; he even talked; though through it all it is safe to say he lost nothing of what Wych Hazel was doing. n.o.body would have guessed, not in the secret, that he had any particular attention in that room, or indeed anywhere! He did not approach Wych Hazel to oblige her to notice him; he would not give her the additional annoyance or himself the useless pain.

Yet, though severely tried that night, he was not unreasonably discouraged. He partly read Wych Hazel; or he surmised what was at the bottom of her wild gaiety; and he had great tenderness for her. A tenderness that made him grave at heart and somewhat grave outwardly; but he did not despair, and he bided his time. He was not irritated that she had broken the bonds of his words, amidst all his profound vexation. He had heard enough of people's tongues, and also knew enough of her, to understand pretty well how it was. He would not even look another remonstrance that night; only, he resolved to stay out the evening and at least see the girl safe in her carriage to go home. He would not go with her either this time.

'Hazel,' whispered Miss Fisher, in one of the figure pauses, 'slip out quietly at the side door when the break-up begins, and we'll have a lark. Stuart says he'll drive me home, if I'll coax you to go along. You can stay with me to-night.

We'll go a little before everybody, you know,' she added persuasively, for Hazel hesitated. 'And the Duke need never know.'

Still Hazel was silent, balancing alternatives. Could she bear a _tete-a-tete_ drive home with him? Could she escape it in any other way?--She gave Kitty Fisher a little nod, and whirled off in the hands of Mr. May.

But 'Duke' was nearer than they know, and specially observant of Kitty Fisher's doings. He was not near enough to catch the import of the question or proposal; but his quick hears heard 'side door'--and his eyes saw that Hazel's sign was of a.s.sent; and his wits guessed at the meaning of both. A moment's reflection made him certain of his conclusion.

Dane bit his lip at the first flash of this conclusion. He saw before him again a task which he would have given a great deal to be spared. Both from tenderness and from policy he was exceeding unwilling to thwart Wych Hazel now, most of all in this company, thereby subjecting her to renewed annoyance, inevitable and galling. Yet he never hesitated; and his old hunter's instinct abode with him, that no step which _must_ be taken is on the whole a bad step. He left the room before the dance was finished, and was in the lobby when the party he waited for came down the broad staircase, ready for their drive. He did not present himself, but when Wych Hazel had followed Kitty Fisher out of the side door, before which Stuart's equipage stood ready, she heard a very low voice at her side, which low as it was she knew very well.

'Miss Hazel, your carriage is at the other door.'

But Kitty Fisher saw, if she did not hear.

'No room for you,' she said. 'Much as ever to get me in. Good night, Sir Duke, and pleasant dreams. The pleasant realities are all bespoke.'

'Miss Kennedy--' low at Wych Hazel's side.

'One of the aforesaid pleasant realities,' said Kitty, with her hand on Wych Hazel's shoulder. 'Come, d.u.c.h.ess!'

Hazel's words had been all ready, but at this speech they died away. It seemed to her as if her cheeks must light up the darkness!

'Your carriage is in waiting,' Rollo went on, in a calm low tone, which ignored Kitty and everybody else.

Still no word.

'Now come!' said Miss Fisher--'don't you play tyrant yet awhile. She's going home with me. Poor little d.u.c.h.ess!-- daresn't say her soul's her own! What's the matter--didn't she ask you pretty?'

There was no answer to this. Rollo did not honour her with any attention. Hazel freed her shoulder from Miss Fisher's hand, and turned short about.

'There is no use contesting things,' she said, speaking with an effort which made the words sound hard-edged and abrupt. 'I shall drive home by myself to Chickaree. Good-night.' And without a look right or left, she went up the steps and across the hall into the carriage at the other door.

Rollo saw her in without a word, and turned away.

And Miss Kennedy,--as if her spite against something or somebody was not yet appeased,--began deliberately, one by one, to take the 'favours' off her dress and drop them through the open carriage window upon the road. But, let me say, she was not (like Quickear) laying a clue for herself, by which to find her way back to the 'German.' Never again.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

THE RUNAWAY.

The fancy ball at Moscheloo was a brilliant affair. More brilliant perhaps than in the crush and mixed confusion of city society could have been achieved. It is a great thing to have room for display. There were people enough, not too many; and almost all of them knew their business. So there was good dressing and capital acting. The evening would have been a success, even without the charades on which Mme. Lasalle laid so much stress.

Dominoes were worn for the greater amus.e.m.e.nt; and of course curiosity was busy; but more than curiosity. In the incongruous fas.h.i.+on common to such entertainments, a handsome Turkish janissary drew up to a figure draped in dark serge and with her whole person enveloped in a shapeless mantle of the same, which was drawn over her head and face.

'I have been puzzling myself for the last quarter of an hour,'

said he, 'to find out--not who--but _what_ you are.'

'Been successful?' said the witch.

'I confess, no. Of course you will not tell me _who_ you are; but I beg, who do you pretend to be?'

'O, pretend!' said the witch. 'I am "a woman that hath a familiar spirit!" '

'Where did you pick up your attendant?'

'Came at my call. I suppose you have heard of Endor?'

'Have I? En--dor? Where _have_ I heard that name? It is no place about here. 'Pon my honour, I forget.'

'In the East?' suggested the witch.

'Stupid!--I know; you are the very person I want to see. But first I wish you would resolve an old puzzle of mine--Did you bring up Samuel, honestly?--or was it all smoke?'

'Smoke proves fire.'

'Samuel would not have been in the fire.'

'He would if it was necessary,' said the witch. 'Whom do you want brought up, Mr. Nightingale?'

'Ha!' said the janissary. 'How do you know that? But perhaps you are "familiar" with everybody. Bring up Miss Kennedy?'

'Very well,' said the witch, beginning to walk slowly round him. 'But as it is not certain that Saul saw Samuel, I suppose it will not matter whether you see her?'

'It matters the whole of it! I want to see her of course.

There is n.o.body else, in fact, whom I want to see; nor anybody else worth seeing after her. The rarest, brightest, most distracting vision that has ever been seen west of your place.'

'If there is n.o.body worth seeing after, you had better see everybody else first,' said the witch, pausing in her round.

'You have a familiar spirit. Tell me what she thinks about me; will you?'

The witch threw up a handful of sweet pungent dust into the air, and made another slow round about the janissary.

'Neither black nor white,'--she said oracularly, 'neither yellow nor blue; neither pea-green nor delicate mouse grey.'