"Give it to me, and we will see."
Rather hesitatingly, one white glove came from the window- sill, within his reach.
"You are a queer person!" she said. "You will neither give orders nor make me execute them, without having hold of my hand! Are you keeping watch of my pulse, so as to stop in time?"
He made no answer to that, nor spoke at all immediately. His hand closed upon the little white glove, and keeping it so, he presently said gravely,
"You and I ought to be good friends, Hazel, on several accounts;--because your father and mother were good friends of mine,--and because I love you very dearly."
A slight motion of her part,--he could not tell whether she started, or what it was,--changed instantly to a breathless stillness. Only a timid stir of the hand, as if it meant to slip away unnoticed. But it was held too firmly for that.
"I don"t know whether you know yet," he went on after a slight pause, "what it is to love anybody very dearly. I remember you told Gyda one day that you had never loved any one so since your mother. Certainly I have never had a right to flatter myself that _I_ had been able to teach you what it means. If I am mistaken,--tell me."
"Easy work!"--she might have answered again,--to tell him what she had never told herself. And particularly nice of him to choose such a place for his inquiries, where there was no possible way of exit (for her) but the coach window. What had he never tried to teach her, except to mind? And of course she never knew anything about--anything! But there Hazel shifted her ground, and felt herself growing frightened, and certainly wished her new guardian a hundred miles away. What did he mean?--was he only sounding her, as Mr. Falkirk did sometimes?
If so, he might just find out for himself!--With which clear view of the case, Wych Hazel set her foot (mentally) on all troublesome possibilities, and sat listening to hear her hear beat; and wondered how many statements of fact Mr. Rollo was going to make, and at what point in the list truth would oblige her to start up and confront him?
He had paused a little, to give room for the answer he did not expect. Seeing it came not, with a slight hastily drawn breath he went on again.
"In the mean time you have heard what you never ought to have heard,--or not for a long time; and through the same good agency other people have heard it too; and you are placed in a position almost to hate the sight of me, and shrink from the sound of my name; and you are looking upon your father"s will as binding you to a sort of slavery. I am not going to stand this a minute longer.
"Hazel--unless you can love me dearly, my privileges as guardian would be of no use to me. I would not take advantage of them if I could. I would not have you on any other terms.
And I certainly am not going to be a clog upon your happiness.
I have made up my mind to keep my office, nominally, for one year; practically I mean to leave you very much to Mr.
Falkirk. I will keep it for a year. At the end of the year, you shall tell me whether I shall give it up or keep it longer. But if longer, it will be for ever. And I warn you, if you give it to me then, it will be a closer and sweeter guardianship than you have had yet, Hazel. I will keep what I love, so dearly and absolutely as I love her. But I shall not speak to you again on this subject until the year"s end. You need not be afraid. I mean to see you and to let you see me; but you will hear no more about this till the time comes."
No answer, even then, only the trembling of the little hand.
Dark as it was, she turned her head yet more away, laying her other cheek upon the window.
"Are we friends now?" he said somewhat lower.
"Mr. Rollo"--she began. But the tremor had found its way to the girl"s voice, and she broke off short.
"Well?" said he. "That is one of the parties. I meant, Mr.
Rollo and Hazel."
"Be quiet!" she said impatiently,--"and let me speak." But what Hazel wanted to say, did not immediately appear.
He answered by a clasp of her hand, and waited.
"I am quiet,"--he suggested at length.
The girl made a desperate effort, and lifted up her head, and sat back in her place, to answer; but managing her voice very much like spun gla.s.s, which might give way in the using; and evidently choosing her words with great care, every now and then just missing the wrong one.
"You go on making statements," she said, catching her breath, "and I--have taken up none of them, because I cannot,--because if,--I mean, I have let them _all_ pa.s.s, Mr. Rollo."--If truth demanded a greater sacrifice just then, it could not be because this one was small.
"I know," he answered. "Will you do better now? What mistake has your silence led me into, or left me in?"
"I said nothing about mistakes. And I always do as well as I can at first," said Hazel, with a touch of the same impatience.
"My statements did not call for an answer. But I am going to say some other things to which I do want an answer. Shall I go on?"
"You know what they are," she said.
"I want you," he went on, speaking slowly and deliberately, "to give me your promise that you will not waltz any more until the year is out that I spoke of."
She answered presently, speaking in a measured sort of way, "That is one thing. The other?"
"I want your promise to the first."
"Suppose I am not ready to give it?"
"I ask for it, all the same."
Again she sorted her words.
"Well then--I am not ready,--I mean, not willing. And do not you see--at least, I mean, you do not see--how--unreasoning a request it is?" The adjective gave her some trouble.
"Not unreasonable?"
"I said nothing about reasonable."
"No. But I must have your promise. If you knew the world better, it would not be necessary for me to make the request; I know that; but the fact that you are--simple as a wild lily,-- does not make me willing to see the wild lily lose any of its charm. Neither will I, Hazel, as long as I have the care of it. So long as you are even in idea mine, no man shall--touch you, again, as I saw it last night! You are precious to me beyond such a possibility. Give me your promise."
"You shall not talk to me so!" she cried, shrinking off in the old fashion. "I will not let you! You have done it before. And I tell you that I never--touch anybody--except with the tip end of my glove!"
"No more than the wild lily does. But, Hazel, no one shall _touch the lily_, while I have care of it!" He spoke in the low tone of determination. Hazel did not answer.
"Promise me!" he said again, when he found that she was silent.
"By your own shewing it is hardly needed," she said. "I suppose obedience will do as well."
"Let it be a matter of grace, not of obligation."
"There is some grace in obedience. Why do you want a promise?"
"To make the matter certain. Else you may be tempted, or cajoled, into what--if you knew better--you would never do. You will know better by and by. Meanwhile I stand in the way.
Come! give me the promise!"
There was a little bit of laugh at that, saying various things.
"I shall not be cajoled," she said. "But I will not make promises."
"How then will you make me secure that what I do not wish shall not be done?"
"It is not a matter about which I am anxious, sir," said Miss Wych coolly.
"I am not anxious," he said very quietly, "because one way or another I will be secure. Do you think I can hold you in my heart as I do, and suffer other men to approach you as I saw it last night? Never again, Hazel!"
Dead silence on the lady"s part; this "mixed-up" style of remark being, as she found, extremely hard to answer.