Hazel drew a deep breath. "Can you tell how you like things?"
she said.
"Yes!" said Stuart. "After we get that ride I am talking of, I"ll tell you how I liked it. By the way, I will do myself the honour to be the receiver of your answer concerning it. But _this_ pleasure--no,--yes, I _do_ know why I enjoy it; but it is not because the voices are fine or the music expressive. Can you guess?"
"_Not_ for the music, and _not_ for the voices!" said the girl looking at him.
"A puzzle, isn"t it?" said Stuart. "No; the music expresses nothing to me--this sort of music; and voices are voices--but--I care only for voices that I know."
Another little word of warning from Prim behind her,--"O Hazel, listen!"--prevented any reply; and Stuart"s "Yes, this is something, now,"--made it unnecessary. And the singing would have made it impossible. A man"s voice alone; the same rich, full, sweet ba.s.s; in the ballad of the "Three Fishers."
Whether Mr. Nightingale had divined that somebody was near who knew Wych Hazel, or merely acted on general prudential motives, he left his seat and stood a little apart while the ballad was sung.
"Do you like that?" Primrose whispered.
"The voice--not the ballad."
"Nor I either," said Prim. "I don"t see what he sings it for."
There was but a moment"s interval, and then the same voice began another strain, so n.o.ble, so deep, so thrilling, that every breath was held till it had done. The power of the voice came out in this strain; the notes were wild, pleading, agonizing, yet with slow, sweet human melody. The air thrilled with them; they seemed to float off and lose themselves through the woods; sadly, grandly, the song breathed and fell and ceased. Wych Hazel did not speak nor stir, nor look, except on the ground, even when the last notes had died away.
Only her little hands held each other very close, her cheeks resting on them.
"Yes, I know," said Primrose softly. "That is Handel."
Stuart Nightingale presently slid back to his seat; and now there came a stir; the music was discontinued. In a few minutes Rollo came bringing refreshments; Mr. Nightingale bestirred himself in the same cause; and presently they were all eating ices and fruits. At which juncture Miss Josephine joined herself to the party, with one or two of her sort, while several gentlemen began to "fall in," behind Miss Kennedy.
"Did you have a good time at Merricksdale?" Josephine asked.
"Not better than usual," Hazel answered.
"Danced, didn"t you? I wanted mamma to have dancing to-night, and she wouldn"t. She"s so awfully slow! O Mr. Rollo, do you like dancing?"
"On anything but my own feet," said Rollo.
"Anything but your own feet? How _can_ you dance on anything but your own feet?"
"My horse"s feet? Or what do you think of a good yacht and a good breeze?"
"Horrid! I never want to be in one. And _don"t_ you like dancing? O why? Don"t you, Miss Kennedy? don"t you, Mr.
Nightingale?"
"Depends on the dance," said Stuart. "And on my partner."
"O it don"t signify what partner you have. In fact, you dance with everybody, you know. That is the best fun. Don"t you like the German, Miss Kennedy?"
"Not with everybody," said Miss Kennedy, thinking of possible partners.
"O but you must, you know, in the German--and that"s the fun. I don"t think anything else _is_ fun. Of course the people are all proper. Don"t you like the German, Mr. Rollo?"
"I do not dance it."
"_Not?_ Don"t you? O why? You do dance, I know, for I"ve seen you; you waltz like a German, a man, I mean. Why don"t you dance the German?"
"How does a German--a man, I mean--waltz, Miss Phinney? as distinguished from other nationalities?" Stuart asked.
"O, different."
"Wont you tell us in what way? This is interesting."
"It wont help you," said Josephine; "and you dance well, besides. A German waltzes slow and elegantly."
"And other people?"--
"You may laugh, but it"s true; I"ve noticed it. An Englishman sways and a Frenchman spins, but a German floats. O it"s just delicious! Why dont you dance the German, Dane Rollo? You"re not pious."
Rollo did not join in the general smile. He answered composedly--
"What I would not let my sister do, Miss Josephine, I am bound not to ask of another lady."
"Why wouldn"t you let your sister? You haven"t got one, and don"t know. But that"s being awfully strict. I had no idea you were so strict. I thought you were jolly."
"Could you hinder your sister?" Stuart asked with a slight laugh. The answer was, however, unhesitating.
"Why would you hinder her?" repeated Josephine.
"Ask Kitty Fisher."
"Kitty? Does _she_ know? And why shouldn"t you tell us as well as her?"
Rollo took Miss Kennedy"s plate at the instant and went off with it.
"That"s all bosh," said Josephine. "I like people that are jolly. The German is real jolly. Last week we danced it with candles--it was splendid fun."
"Not here?" said one of the gentlemen.
"Here? No. You bet. My mother is my mother, and n.o.body ever charged her with being jolly, I suppose."
"How could you dance with candles?" said Primrose"s astonished voice.
"Yes. Six of us had great long wax candles, lighted; and we stood up on a chair."
"Six of you on a chair!"
"The old question of the schoolmen!"--cried Nightingale, bursting into a laugh.
"Of course on six chairs, I mean. Of course. Six of us on a chair!"--
"But what did you get on chairs for?"
"Why!--then the gentlemen danced round us, and at the signal-- the leader gave the signal--the gentlemen jumped up as high as they could and tried to blow out our lights; and they had to keep step and jump; and if any gentleman could blow out the candle nearest him he could dance with that lady. Didn"t we make them jump, though! We held our candles up so high, you know, they could not get at them. Unless we liked somebody and wanted him for a partner. O we had a royal time!"