ven now, wilted and under foot, it was
sweeter than everything else; sweeter than even its own self
had ever been before. Yes; of all the bitter truths she had
heard that day, this that she said to herself was the one
supreme: Gyda's words of expectation would never be made good.

'Never,' she repeated. 'Never, never!'--and it seemed to Hazel
that in all her lonely life she had never before known what it
was to feel alone.

_This_ then explained all his wonderful care of her,--of course;
it was part of his legal duty. She should learn to hate him
now, she knew. Very likely he found it amusing as well! It
must be rather spicy work to a man loving power, to manage a
wild girl and her estate together--and with that Miss Kennedy's
resolution took a vehement turn. And _this_ was why Mr. Falkirk
had been so easy--and why--and why-- At which point thoughts and
breath got in an utter tangle, and she had to begin all over
again.

He could not wait to be guardian till she gave him
permission.--'Well for him!' said Miss Hazel, with a gesture of
her head. And then if she married anybody else without his
leave--and she would have to ask his leave!--Would she?--not
quite, the girl thought to herself. Neither in great things
nor in small would he be troubled _much_ in that way. Very
generous of him to declare his purpose--of--of-- And here
suddenly thoughts flew off to Gyda's soft-spoken title for
her,--words that bore yet their freight of shame and pleasure,
for Hazel's head went down. She brought herself back sharply.

_Very_ nice of him to tell other people what he meant to do!--of
course _her_ purposes in that line were of small moment, if she
had any. Things would run in this style now, she supposed:
'Thank you, Mr. May,--I will ask Mr. Falkirk; and if he
approves I will ask Mr. Rollo--if I can find him, for he is
generally away. And if _he_ says yes, I can go.'

No visitors saw her that day;--and Mr. Falkirk had his
breakfast alone, watched over by Mrs. Bywank. 'Miss Wych had a
headache,'--which was extremely likely, as she had cried all
night. But after that the world of Chickaree went on as usual,
to all outward appearance.

Some weeks had passed over since the ride to Morton Hollow,
when one afternoon Rollo's bay again walked up to the side
entrance of the Chickaree house. The few days of his intended
absence had been lengthened out by the wearisome delays of
business, so that that morning had seen the young gentle