’ “The wall of the city had twelve foundations,” ’ he said at last, giving the chain back, with a look of light and love combined; ’ “and in the wall were twelve gates, and each several gate was one pearl; and the streets were gold, like unto transparent glass, and nothing that defileth shall by any means enter there, but those that are washed in the blood of the Lamb.”  I like that, my dear.’

His look made all the application his words did not.  Presently he rose up and asked Wych Hazel if he might go into her library?  A book was there, he thought, that he wanted to look at.  Hazel guided him in, but then he dismissed her and she went back to Primrose on the verandah.  Slowly back,—­softly fingering her bright stones, soberly thinking to herself the motto upon the clasp:—­“In hope of eternal life.”

‘What were you talking to papa about?’ said Primrose, putting a loving hand into Wych Hazel’s.  The two other gentlemen were speaking together at a little distance.  ’I thought you looked troubled; but I could not hear, for Duke was talking to me.’

’Dr. Maryland should have been the troubled one, part of the time,’ said Hazel, bringing her other hand upon Prim’s, ’for I asked him to give you to me.’

‘What would become of him and Duke?’ said Primrose smiling.

‘Really, Mr. Rollo did not enter into my calculations!’ said Wych Hazel, coming back with a rebound into her everyday self.  ‘Does he require much time and care bestowed upon him?’

‘Don’t you think all men do?’

‘I do not know all men,’ said Wych Hazel.  ’Mr. Falkirk does not get it.  But does Mr. Rollo live at your house?’

’Why of course, when he’s here.  He always did, you know.  And O, Duke helps me.  It is twice as easy to take care of papa, when I have him in the house, too.  But Hazel, I am going to get you to help me,—­in another way—­if I can.’

‘What way?’ said Hazel.  ’Then if Mr. Rollo is so helpful, he might take care of Dr. Maryland altogether, and you could come to take care of me.’

Primrose laughed.

‘O men cannot get along as women can—­don’t you know that?’ she said.  ’No, I want you for my Sunday school.  What’s the matter?’”

These last words were caused by a diversion of the speaker’s thoughts.  For she had noticed, while speaking, that a man had come in haste to the place where the two gentlemen were standing; and that after a very few words Mr. Falkirk had thrown on his hat and gone down the grassy slope 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.