Wych Hazel | Page 3

Wych Hazel, studying her future fortunes in
the fire.
'What fits?'
'My going to seek what I am sure to find.'
'That will ensure your missing what is coming to find you.'
'People in fairy tales never wait to see what will come, sir.'
'But, my dear, there is a difficulty in this case. Your fortune is made
already.'
'Provokingly true, sir. But after all, Mr. Falkirk, I was not thinking of
money.'
'A settlement, eh?' said Mr. Falkirk. 'My dear, when the prince is ready,
the fairy will bring him.'
'Now, Mr. Falkirk,' said the girl, with her cheeks aglow, 'you know
perfectly well I was not thinking of that.'
'Will you please to specify of what you were thinking, Miss Hazel?'
Miss Hazel leaned her head on her hand and reflected.
'I don't believe I can, sir. It was a kind of indefinite fortune,--a whole
windfall of queer adventures and people and things.'
Mr. Falkirk at this turned round from his papers and looked at the girl.
It was a pretty vision that he saw, and he regarded it somewhat steadily;

with a little break of the line of the lips that yet was not merriment.
'My dear,' he said gravely, 'such birds seldom fly alone in a high wind.'
'Well, sir, never mind. Could you be ready by Thursday, Mr. Falkirk?'
'For what, Miss Hazel?'
'Dear me!' said the girl with a soft breath of impatience. 'To set out, sir.
I think I shall go then, and I wanted to know if I am to have the
pleasure of your company.'
'Do I look like a fairy tale?' said Mr. Falkirk.
He certainly did not! A keen eye for practical realities, a sober good
sense that never lost its foothold of common ground, were further
unaccompanied by the graces and charms wherewith fairy tales delight
to deck their favourites. Besides which, Mr. Falkirk probably knew
what his fortune was already, for the grey was abundantly mingled with
the brown in his eyebrows and hair. However, to do Miss Hazel's
guardian justice, if his face was not gracious, it was at least in some
respects fine. A man always to be respected, easily to be loved, sat
there at the table, at his papers.
As for the little 'nut-browne mayd' who studied destiny in the fire, she
merely glanced up at him in answer to this appeal; and with a shake of
the head as if fairy tales and he were indeed hopelessly disconnected,
returned to her musings. Then suddenly burst forth--
'I am so puzzled about the colour of my new travelling dress!
"Contrasts," and "harmonies," and all that stuff, belong to the pink and
white people. But pink and brown--Mr. Falkirk, do you suppose I can
find anything browner than myself, that will set me off, and do?--I can't
travel in gold colour.'
'You want to have as much as possible the effect of a picture in a
frame?'

'Not at all, sir. That is just what I want to avoid. The dress should be a
part of the picture.'
'I don't doubt it will be!' said Mr. Falkirk sighing. 'Before you set out,
my dear, had you not better invest your property? so that you could live
upon the gathered interest if the capital should fail.'
'I thought it was invested?' said the girl, looking up.
'Only a part of it,' replied Mr. Falkirk. 'Nothing but your money.'
'Nothing but!' said Wych Hazel. 'Why what more have I, Mr. Falkirk?'
'A young life,' said her guardian,--'a young and warm heart,-- good
looks, an excellent constitution, a head and hands that might do much.
To which I might add,--an imagination.'
'My dear Mr. Falkirk,' said the girl laughing, 'I shall want them all to
pay my travelling expenses. All but the last--and that is invested
already, to judge by the interest.'
He smiled, a shaded smile, such as he often wore when she danced
away from his grave suggestions. He never pursued her. But when she
added,
'After all, sir, investments are your affair,'--
'My dear,' he said, 'a woman's jewels are in her own keeping-- unless
indeed God keep them. Yet let her remember that they are not hers to
have and to hold, but to have and to use; a mere life interest--nor
always that.'
And then for a while silence fell.
'Will you think me very extravagant if I get a new travelling dress, sir?'
the girl began again.
'I have not usually been the guardian of your wardrobe, Miss Hazel.'

'No, sir, of course; but I wanted your opinion. You gave one about my
jewels. And by the way, Mr. Falkirk, won't you just tell me the list over
again?'
Mr. Falkirk turned round and bent his brows upon Wych Hazel now,
but without speaking.