It couldn't do any harm, you know. And you are the very
person to do it. And then, if your plan should succeed, it
would have another good effect, to put Primrose Maryland in
safety.'

If it had been daylight instead of moonlight, Mme. Lasalle
might have seen the young face at her side knit itself into a
very perplexed state indeed at these words; and the more Hazel
thought the deeper she got.

'It would be quite natural, you know,' Mme. Lasalle went on
after a pause, 'that a girl like her should be fascinated, and
Rollo, without meaning to do any harm, would give her cause
enough. He _is_ fascinating you know, but he is too cool by
half. Dr. Maryland, of course, never would see or understand
what was going on; and Primrose is so sweet and inexperienced.
I know her sister was very uneasy about it before Rollo went
away--so long ago. I fancy his going was partly thanks to her
care.'

Closer and closer came the dark brows together, until by
degrees her extremely fancy-free thoughts took a turn. 'What a
fuss! what was Mme. Lasalle talking about? "Fascinating,"
forsooth!--she should like to see anybody that could fascinate
her.' And so the whole thing grew ludicrous, and she laughed,
her soft ringing, girlish laugh.

'What a pirate he must be, Mme. Lasalle. A true Dane! Do many
of that sort live on shore?'

'Take care!' said the lady in a different tone--'dangers that
are slighted are the first to be run into.'

The carriage stopped at that moment, so Wych Hazel had no need
to reply. She watched Mme. Lasalle drive off, took a
comprehensive view of the moon for a minute, and then
pirouetting round on the tips of her toes she flashed into the
sitting room and favoured Mr. Falkirk with a courtesy profound
enough for her grandmother.

CHAPTER XVII.

ENCHANTED GROUND.

Mr. Falkirk was sitting with the paper in the tea-room at
Chickaree. A good lamplight gave him every temptation to lose
himself in its manifold pages, but somehow the temptation
failed. Mr. Falkirk had been walking the floor for part of the
evening; going then to one of the long windows and throwing it
open--there were no mosquitoes at Chickaree--to look out at the
moonlight, or perhaps to listen for the sound of wheels; but
the Summer stillness was only marked by the song of insects
and the light stir of leaves, and Mr. Falkirk went back to his
musings. His hand caressed his chin sometimes, in slow and
moody deliberation. No doubt the change