pen window from which she could speak
to her groom, Lewis, in the distance, ordering up her horse.
Mrs. Coles had a good view of her as she went and returned,
steady, erect, and swift.

'My dear,' said the lady with that same little laugh, 'I know
all about it, and did twelve years ago. You have nothing to
tell me--except how the plan works. About that, I confess, I
was curious.'

'O I shall not tell you that, Mrs. Coles, unless I hear
exactly what you suppose the plan to be. Exactness is very
important in such cases. And, by-the-by, you must be the lady
of whom Mr. Rollo has spoken to me several times,' said Wych
Hazel, with a sudden look.

'Has he? What did he say?'

'Several things. But my horse is coming. Do you think Mr.
Rollo would really object to our discussing the "romance"
together?'

Was it cunning or instinct in Wych Hazel? Mrs. Coles answered
with a significant chuckle, but added--'My dear, you know he
has money enough of his own.'

'Has he?' said Hazel, seeming to feel the lava crack under her
feet, and expecting every moment a hot sulphur bath.

'So of course he is not to be supposed to want any more.
Didn't you know he was rich?'

'Never thought about it, if I did.'

'No, I suppose not. But if you never thought about it, nor
about him,--I declare! it _is_ hard that he should have the
disposal of you and all you've got. Rich! his father was rich,
and his money has been growing and growing all these years. I
daresay he'll not be a bad master,--but yet, it's rather a hard
case, _if_ you never thought of him.'

Wych Hazel was silent a moment, as if thinking.

'What was the exact wording of the will, Mrs. Coles? Do you
remember?'

'Wording? I don't know about wording, the lawyers curl their
words round so, and plait them together; but the sense I know
well enough; the terms of the will. It made a great impression
upon me; and then seeing Dane for so many years, and knowing
all about it, I couldn't forget it. This was the way of it.
You know your father, and your mother, and Dane's father were
immense friends?'

She paused, but Wych Hazel gave her no help.

'So they struck up this plan between them, when Mr. Kennedy
knew he was ill and wouldn't ever be well again, and that his
wife would not long outlive him. You were put under that old
gentleman's guardianship,--I forget his name at this minute,
but you know it well enough,--Mr. Falkirk! that was it. You
were to be under Mr. Falkirk's