with the
messenger; while Rollo had turned as suddenly and was coming
towards them.

CHAPTER XIX.

SELF-CONTROL.

Rollo came up with the grave, business look of one who has
serious matters on hand.

'A messenger has come,' he said, speaking to Wych Hazel, 'to
say that one of the men has met with an accident.'

He could see how the shock struck her, but she made no
exclamation, only her hands met in a tight clasp as they had
done in the woods' fire. She faced him silently, waiting more
words.

'I don't know yet how bad it is. I am going to see; and I will
come back to you by and by.'

'Where?--and who?' she asked.

'In the wood-cutting. It is Reo.' He spoke as a man who speaks
unwillingly.

Hazel gave a little cry at that, and turning suddenly flew
into the house. The next thing was the flutter of her light
foot outside among the trees. But, overtaken the next minute,
she was stopped by a hand on her arm and held fast. However
Dane spoke very gently.

'Miss Hazel!--you had better not go yourself.'

'I am going,' she said, struggling to disengage herself. 'Mr.
Rollo!--'

'Stop,' he said gently and steadily. 'Miss Hazel--I shall not
let you go.'

In her excitement she hardly took in more than the mere fact
of his words, and dropping everything she had in her hand,
Hazel took hold of his fingers and began to loosen them with
her own, which had a good deal of will in them, of they were
small. The immediate effect was to secure the imprisonment of
both her hands in a clasp that was stronger than her's. I
hardly think Rollo disliked it, for he smiled a little as he
spoke:

'Listen,' he said,--'Miss Hazel, I shall not let you go down
yonder. I will bring you news as soon as I can--but you must
stay here with Rosy. Don't you see?' he added very gently, as
he turned about and walked toward the house with her, putting
one little hand on his arm while other hand still held it
fast,--'don't you see, you could do nothing just yet? And I
take this upon myself--I shall not let you go. You must stay
here and take care of Rosy, till I can come back to you.'

'I will not,' she said, stopping short again. 'I will go! It
is my right! Where should a woman be? And--Oh!' she cried with
a change of tone, 'it is Reo!--And he will want things--and he
will want me!'

'Not yet,' said Rollo; 'it is not time for either yet. He
shall want nothing, I promise you, that he ought to have. But
you must be good and stay wit