h Rosy.'

He spoke as a brother might speak to a little sister of whom
he was very fond, or--brothers do not often take just that
tone. Primrose, looking on, knew very well what it meant. Wych
Hazel was in far too much commotion of mind to discern
anything. She had yielded to superior strength,--which indeed
she could not gracefully resist; and then there came over her
heart such a flood of grief, that for the last few steps she
was quite passive; though giving no sign but the quiver that
touched her mouth, and went and came again. But at Rollo's
last words she drew herself up defiantly.

'Do you expect to stand here and hold me all day?' she said.

'No?' he said gravely, now meeting her look,--'I expect you to
have self-control and womanly patience, and to let me go and
do my part, until it is time for you to do yours. Will you?'

'I shall do what I think best. The question is none of yours,
Mr. Rollo. Self-control!--I have a little!' she said under her
breath.

'Do you mean to keep me here,' he said gravely and quietly,
'when I may be so much wanted elsewhere? You would be in the
way there, but I am needed. Still, you are my first care. Must
I stay here to take care of you? or will you promise me to be
good and wait quietly with Primrose, until I bring you word?'

His eye went to Primrose as he ended, in a mute appeal for
help. And Prim came near and laid her hand softly on Wych
Hazel's shoulder.

'Do, dear Hazel!' she said. 'Duke knows; you may trust him.'

It was indescribable the way she freed herself from them both,
as if to be touched, now, was beyond the bounds of endurance.
Prim's words Hazel utterly ignored, but something in the
other's claimed attention.

'Go! Go!'--she said hurriedly. 'Go and do your part!--If you had
been content with doing that at first, we should have had no
trouble.' She wrapped her arms round one of the light verandah
pillars, and leaning her head against it gave look nor word
more.

Rollo staid for none, but dashed away down the slope and was
lost in the woods. Primrose stood near Wych Hazel, very much
at a loss indeed; but too troubled to be still.

'Dear Hazel!' she ventured, in a very soft voice--'don't feel
so! What is the matter?'

'Did you not hear?'

'Yes; but Hazel dear, you know hardly anything yet; there may
be very little to be troubled about. The accident may be very
slight, for all you know. I always think it is best to wait
and see; and then have your