"There are just two little faults in your statement, sir, considered as an answer. I never was fast"--said Miss Hazel,-- "but trying to hoodwink me is not likely to make me slow,"--and she went off to don her habit and gather herself up for the ride.
CHAPTER x.x.xIX.
A COTTON MILL.
As she came to the side door, she saw Rollo just dismounting from Jeannie Deans, and immediately preparing to remove his saddle and subst.i.tute the side-saddle; which he did with the care used on a former occasion. But Jeannie had raised her head and given a whinny of undoubted pleasure.
"Let her go, Mr. Rollo," whispered Lewis.
And so released, the little brown steed set off at once, walking straight to the verandah steps, pausing there and looking up to watch Hazel, renewing her greeting in lower tones, as if _this_ were private and confidential. Hazel ran down the steps, and made her fingers busy with bridle and mane, giving furtive caresses. Only when she was mounted, and Rollo had turned, his ear caught the sound of one or two little soft whispers that were meant for Jeannie"s ears alone.
Perhaps the gentleman wanted to give Wych Hazel"s thoughts a convenient diversion; perhaps he wished to get upon some safe common ground of interest and intercourse; perhaps he purposed to wear off any awkwardness that might embarra.s.s their mutual good understanding; for he prefaced the ride with a series of instructions in horsemanship. Mr. Falkirk had never let his ward practise leaping; Rollo knew that; but now, and with Mr.
Falkirk looking on, he ordered up the two grooms with a bar, and gave Wych Hazel a lively time for half an hour. A good solid riding lesson, too; and probably for that s.p.a.ce of time at least attained all his ends. But when he himself was mounted, and they had set off upon a quiet descent of the Chickaree hill, out of sight of Mr. Falkirk, all Wych Hazel"s shyness came back again; hiding itself behind reserve. Rollo was in rather a gay mood.
"It is good practice," he said. "Did you ever go through a cotton mill?"
"Never."
"How would you like to go through one to-day?"
"Why--I do not know. Very well, I daresay."
So with this slight and doubtful encouragement, Rollo again took the way to Morton Hollow. It was early October now; the maples and hickories showing red and yellow; the air a wonderful compound of spicy sweetness and strength; the heaven over their heads mottled with filmy stretches of cloud, which seemed to float in the high ether quite at rest. A day for all sorts of things; good for exertion, and equally inviting one to be still and think.
"How happens it you have let Jeannie stand still so long?"
Rollo asked presently.
"I have not wanted to ride her,--that is all."
"Would you like her better if she were your own?" he said quite gently, though with a keen eye directed at Wych Hazel"s face.
"No. Not now." The "now" slipped out by mistake, and might mean either of two things. Rollo did not feel sure what it meant.
"Did you ever notice," he said after a few minutes again, "how different the clouds of this season are from those of other times of the year? Look at those high bands of vapour lying along towards the south; they seem absolutely poised and still. Clouds in spring and summer are drifting, or flying, or dispersing, or gathering: earnest and purposeful; with work to do, and hurrying to do it. Look at those yonder; they are at rest, as if all the work of the year were done up. I think they say it is."
The fair grave face was lifted, shewing uncertainty through the light veil; and she looked up intently at the sky, almost wondering to herself if there _had_ been clouds in the spring and early summer. She hardly seemed to remember them.
"Is that what they say to you?" she said dreamily. "They look to me as if they were just waiting,--waiting to see where the wind will rise."
"But the wind does not rise in October. They will lie there, on the blessed blue, half the day. It looks to me like the rest after work."
She glanced at him.
"I do not know much about work," she said. "What I suppose you would call work. It has not come into my hands."
"It has not come into mine," said Rollo. "But can there be rest without work going before it?"
"Such stillness?" she said, looking up at the white flecks again. "But according to that, we do not either of us know rest."
"Well," said he smiling, "I do not. Do you?"
"I used to think I did. What do you mean by rest, Mr. Rollo?"
"Look at those lines of cloud. They tell. The repose of satisfied exertion; the happy looking back upon work done, after the call for work is over."
She looked up, and kept looking up; but she did not speak.
Somehow the new combinations of these last weeks had made her sober; she did not get used to them. The little wayward sc.r.a.ps of song had been silent, and the quick speeches did not come.
"But then," Rollo went on again presently, "then comes up another question. What is work? I mean, what is work for such people as you and I?"
"I suppose," said Hazel, "whatever we find to do."
"I have not found anything. Have you? Those clouds somehow seem to speak reproach to me. May be that is their business."
"I have not been looking," said Hazel. "You know I have been shut up until this summer. But I should think you might have found plenty,--going among people as you do."
"What sort?"
"Different sorts, I suppose. At least if you are as good at making work for yourself in some cases as you are in others,"
she said with a queer little recollective gleam in her face.
"Did it never occur to you that you might set the world straight--and persuade its...o...b..t into being regular?"
"No," said Rollo carelessly, "I never undertake more than I can manage. Here is a good place for a run."
They had come into the long level lane which led to Morton Hollow; and giving their horses the rein they swept through the October air in a flight which scorned the ground. When the banks of the lane began to grow higher and to close in upon the narrowing roadway, which also became crooked and irregular, they drew bridle again and returned to the earth.
"Don"t you feel set straight now?" said Rollo.
"Thank you--no."
"I am afraid you will give me some work to do, yet," said he audaciously, and putting his hand out upon Wych Hazel"s. "Do not carry quite so loose a rein. Jeannie is sure, I believe, and you are fearless; but you should always let her know you are there."
"Mr. Rollo--" said the girl hastily. Then she stopped.
"What?" said Rollo innocently, riding close alongside and looking her hard in the face. "I am here."
"Nothing."
Then he changed his tone and said gently, "What was it, Miss Hazel?"
"Something better unsaid."
He was silent a minute, and went on gravely--
"You wanted to know why I interfered the other night as I did; and I promised, I believe, to explain it to you when I had an opportunity. I will, if you bid me; but I may do the people injustice, and I would rather you took the view of an unprejudiced person--Mr. Falkirk, for instance. But if you wish it, I will tell you myself."