The Gold of Chickaree.
by Susan Warner.
CHAPTER I.
ON-DIT.
"Papa," said Primrose, very thoughtfully, "do you think Hazel will marry Duke?"
Dr. Maryland and his daughter were driving homeward after some business which had taken them to the village.
"She will if she knows what is good for her," the doctor answered decidedly.
"But she has been away from Chickaree now nearly a year."
"I don"t know what her guardian is thinking of," Dr. Maryland said, somewhat discontentedly.
"Duke is her guardian too," remarked Primrose.
"You land a fish sometimes best with a long line, my dear."
"People say she has been very gay at Newport."
"I am sorry to hear it."
"Do you think, papa, she would ever settle down and be quiet and give all such gayety up?"
"The answer to that lies in what I do not know, my dear."
"Papa," Primrose went on, after the pause of a minute, "don"t you think the will was rather hard upon Hazel?"
"No," said the doctor, decidedly. "What can a girl want more?"
"But if she does not like Duke?"
"She is not obliged to marry him."
"But she can"t marry anybody else, papa, without losing all her fortune, that is??"
"Till she is twenty-five, my dear; only till she is twenty-five. She is not obliged to wait any longer than that, and no woman need be married before she is twenty-five."
Primrose laughed a little privately at the statement which she did not combat. She was thinking that Duke did not look at all depressed, and querying whether it was because he knew more than she did, or because he did not care. The old buggy stopped before the door of the long, low, stone house, and the conversation went no further.
Meanwhile, far away in the city, the young lady in question had discovered what n.o.body knew, and at last had unveiled her own secret. Not doubtingly, as she had glanced at it before, but beyond question, as an accepted fact. She hid it well from other people; she was at no pains to hide it from herself. Pains would have been of no use. If, in the somewhat secluded quiet of the first part of the winter, she had contrived a little to confuse things, it was no longer possible the moment she was out in the world again. Well she knew that she would rather live over three minutes in the red room when she had unconsciously pleased Mr. Rollo"s taste, than to dance the gayest dance with such men as Stuart Nightingale, or do miles of promenading with the peers of Mr. May. For to Wych Hazel, to care for anybody so, was to care not two straws for anybody else. The existence, almost, of other men sank out of sight. She heard their compliments, she laughed at their talk, but through it all neither eye nor ear would have missed the faintest token of Mr. Rollo"s presence; and since he was not there, she amused herself with mental comparisons not very flattering to the people at hand. She could not escape their admiration, but it was rather a bore. She care to have them stand round her, and join her in the street, and ask her to drive? She enjoy their devotion? "In idea" she belonged to somebody else, some time ago; now, the idea was her own; and she cared no more for the rest of the world than if they had been so many lay figures. It was not too easy, sometimes, to hide this; not easy always to look long enough at the hearts laid at her feet, to give them the sympathetic courtesy which was their due. She never had tried her hand at flirting; but it was left for this season to stamp Miss Kennedy as "the most unapproachable woman in town." Which, however, unfortunately, made her more popular than ever. She was so lovely in her shy reserve; the hardwon favours were so delightful; the smiles so witching when they came; and n.o.body ever suspected that what she did with all her triumphs was to mentally bestow them on somebody else. They belonged to him, now, not to her, and for her had no other value.
It was a very timid consciousness of all this that Hazel allowed herself, even yet. Thoughts were scolded out of sight and shut up and hushed; but none the less they had their way; and the sudden coming of forbidden thoughts, and the half oblivion of things at hand, made the prettiest work that could be in face and manner. A sweeter shyness than that of the girl who had nothing to hide watched all doors that led to her secret; a fairer reserve than mere timidity kept back what belonged to one man alone. A certain womanly veil over the girlish face but made the beautiful life changes more beautiful still. If anything, she looked younger than she had done the year before.
All this being true, why then did Miss Kennedy throw herself into the whirl of society, and carry her elder guardian about with her from place to place, till they had nearly made the round of all the gay scenes of winter and summer? Very simply and plainly, she said to herself, because there was nothing else to do. Of course she could not settle down permanently away from home; and as to going back to Chickaree?to rides, and walks, and talks?with September hurrying on as if everybody was in a hurry to have it?
that was out of the question. The very idea took her breadth away.
Till September Mr. Rollo had pledged himself to be quiet; longer it could not be expected of him. No, she must keep her distance, and keep moving; and if she had to meet her fate, meet it at least on a sudden. She could not sit still and watch it coming, step by step; she could not even sit still and think about it. If she could have persuaded Mr. Falkirk, Hazel would have gone straight to Europe, and stayed there till?she did not know when. She had an overpowering dread of going home, and seeing Mr. Rollo, and having herself and her secret brought out into the open day. So she rushed about from one gay place to another, and hid herself in the biggest crowds she could find; and all the while went to his "penny readings" (in imagination), and counted the days that were yet left before the end of September. But the tension began to tell upon her, and her face took a delicate look that Mr. Falkirk did not like to see, in spite of the ready colour that flickered there in such fitful fashion. And then, Dr. Arthur Maryland, watching her one night at the Ocean House, with his critical eyes, gave his opinion, unasked.
All that appeared was purely professional.
"She would be better at home, Mr. Falkirk, with different surroundings, and more quiet. Just now she is attempting too much. But do not tell her I say so."
The advice chimed in well with Mr. Falkirk"s own private notions and opinions. It pleased him not to have his ward so given up to society, so engrossed with other people, as for months he had been obliged to see her. Mr. Falkirk had a vague sense of danger, comparable to the supposed feelings of a good mother-hen which has followed her brood of ducklings to the edge of the water. For Mr. Falkirk"s attendance seemed to himself not much more valuable or efficient to guard from evil than the said mother-hen"s clucking round the pond. True, he stood by, and saw Wych Hazel was there; he went and came with her; but the waves of the social entertainment floated her hither and thither, and he could scarce follow at a distance, much less navigate for her. What she was doing, or saying, or engaging to do, was quite beyond his ken or his management. Besides, Mr. Falkirk thought it ill that the beautiful home at Chickaree should be untenanted; and ill that Wych Hazel"s tastes and habits should be permanently diverted from home joys and domestic avocations. He was very much in the dark about Rollo; but, knowing nothing about the secret compact for the year, and seeing that Rollo did not of late seek his ward"s society, and that Wych Hazel shunned to come near his neighbourhood, and affected any other place rather, he half comforted himself with the thought that as yet his little charge was his only, and her sweet trust and affection unshared by anybody who had a greater claim.
So Mr. Falkirk issued his decree, and made his arrangements; that is, he told Wych Hazel he thought she ought to go to Chickaree for the rest of the season; and, seeing that she must, Wych Hazel agreed.
It came to be now the end of August. And all through the season, Rollo had kept at his work or his play in the Hollow, and he had not sought out Wych Hazel in her various abiding places. Perhaps he was too busy; perhaps he was constantly expecting that her wanderings would cease, and she would return to her own home.
Perhaps he guessed partly at the reason for her keeping at a distance, and would not hurry her by any premature importunity.
And, perhaps?for some men are so?he was willing that she should run to the end of her line, see all that she cared to see, and find, if she could find, anything that she liked better than him. It might have been patiently or impatiently; but Rollo waited, and did not recall?did not go after her. And now she was coming home.
It was September and one week of it gone. Rollo had ridden over to Dr. Maryland"s to dinner, and the little party was just sitting down to the table, when Dr. Arthur arrived. He had been, we know, at Newport, on business of his own, where Wych Hazel and Mr. Falkirk were, and was just returned after an absence of some weeks. He was a lion, of course, as any one is in a country home who has ventured out into the great sea of the world and come home again; and his sisters could hardly serve him fast enough, or listen eagerly enough to his talk at the dinner-table. Though Prim cared most for the sound of his voice, and Mrs. Coles for what it had to tell.
"And you saw Miss Kennedy, Arthur, did you?" this latter lady asked, with a view to getting intelligence through various channels at once, keeping her ears for him and her eyes for Rollo.
"I saw Miss Kennedy."
"How was she looking, Arthur?" said Prim.
"Not very well, I thought. That is, well according to you ladies, but not according to us doctors."
"_Not_ well?" echoed Prim in dismay; while Rollo said nothing and did not even look.
"Rather delicate, it seemed to me," said Dr. Arthur. "But she is coming to-morrow, Prim, so you can judge for yourself."
"Is she as much admired as ever?" quoth Mrs. Coles, eyeing Rollo hard by stealth and not making much of him.
"More. And deserves it."
"How does she deserve more?" said Rollo.
"I am not good at descriptions," Dr. Arthur answered, somewhat briefly.
"I suppose she takes all she gets?" said Prudentia.
"Difficult to do anything else with it."
"Who is her special admirer now, or the most remarkable? for she reckons them by scores."
"All seemed to be special. One or two young Englishmen made themselves pretty prominent."
"That Sir Henry something?was _he_ one of them? Is he there?"
"Crofton? Yes, he was there."
"What do people say, Arthur? Who of them is going to have her?"