.

'I wish you had a mother!' said Mr. Falkirk abruptly. And he
turned back to the table, and for a little while that was all
the answer he made; while Wych Hazel sat waiting. But then he
began again.

'As I remarked before, Miss Hazel, we are come upon bewitched
ground in our search after fortune. You spoke of two classes
of people a while ago, if you remember--people that want to
marry each other and people that _don't_.'

'Yes sir. Which are the most of?'

'_Being_ upon bewitched ground, it might happen to you as to
others--mind, not this year, perhaps, nor next; but it might
happen--that you should find yourself in one of these two, as
you intimate, large classes. Suppose it; could you, having no
mother, put confidence in an old guardian?'

Very grave, very gentle Mr. Falkirk's manner and tone were;
considerate of her, and very humble concerning himself.

'Why, Sir!'--she looked at him, the roses waking up in her
cheeks as she caught his meaning more fully. Then her eyes
fell again, and she said softly--'How do you mean, Mr. Falkirk?
There is nobody in the world whom I trust as I do you.'

'I have never a doubt of that, my dear. But to make the trust
avail you or me, practically, could you let me know the state
of affairs?'

She moved restlessly in her chair, drawing a long breath or
two.

'You say such strange things, sir. I do assure you, Mr.
Falkirk, I am ensconced in the very middle of one of those
classes. And that not the dangerous one,' she added with a
laugh, though the flushes came very frankly. 'If _that_ is what
you are afraid of.'

'You are in about as dangerous a class as any I know,' said
Mr. Falkirk, dryly; 'the class of people that everybody wants
to marry. Miss Hazel, you are known to be the possessor of a
very large propriety.'

'Am I, sir? And is that what makes me so attractive? I thought
that there must be some explanation of so sweeping a
compliment from your lips.'

A provoked little smile came upon Mr. Falkirk's lips, but they
grew grave again.

'So, Miss Hazel, how are you to know the false magician from
the true knight?'

'He must be a poor knight who would leave the trouble on my
hands,' said the girl, with her young ideas strong upon her.
'If he does not prove himself, Mr. Falkirk, "I'll none of
him!" '

'How shall a man prove to you that he does not want Chickaree
and your money, my dear?'

'Instead of me. I think--I should know,' she answered slowly,
so muc