'And you mean to leave me outside of your business?' she questioned, with eyes incredulous even yet. 'Outside of this business. And you are not to come even near the Hollow. I know you do not like to give promises, and so I do not ask for one. This is not a request. You understand?' 'Olaf!'—It was the sweetest of pleading tones. But no more words followed,—neither word nor look. 'Ah you have adopted me at last, have you!' said he. 'I have been waiting for this. And the sweetness of it will be in my ears all these days before me. The _next time_ you speak that word in such music, Hazel, I will give you what you ask.' 'Not now?' she said softly. 'I may not go even to Gyda's?' 'Gyda will be with me.' The words, the utterance, were cheery, clear and sweet; at the same time strong and absolute. And Rollo wore a look which I think a woman does not dislike to see on a face she loves, even though its decisions be against her; there was sweetness enough in it, also unmanageableness! No shadow, it must be noted. If he was going into danger, and knew it, the fact did not shadow him. Hazel stood still, struggling with herself; fighting the disappointment and the restraint; most of all, the sorrow which came in the train of the other two. For with the passing away of her own thought of going, the thought that he must go came out clear and strong. Into that infected place, to be shut up in quarantine with no one knew what! Hazel passed her hands across her forehead as if she were pushing the shadows right and left, bidding them wait. 'I wanted to ask,' she said,—and then the voice changed, and suddenly the soft touch of her fingers came to his face, stroking back some lock of hair to its accustomed place. But the look was as intent and unconscious as if she never expected to see him again in all her life. And he stood still, like a man under a spell, which he would not break by the least movement. 'Those people,' she began again hurriedly, bringing herself back to business and a business tone, 'will want a great deal. And there is not much in the Hollow, nor on the hill. If you will let me, I can have supplies sent from here every day. Mrs. Bywank will know what. And my messenger need not go near that part of the Hollow; the things can be left at any point you say.' She looked up eagerly—then down again; not much fonder than he was of asking what she could not have. 'Do that, by all means,' was the answer. 'Your supplies may be left at the mill where I read.' The shadow on her face deepened. 'Will you write?' 'No.' His face began to take on something of the yearning look of the Huguenot in the picture. 'How then shall I hear?' 'I have been thinking about that. I do not know; unless Arthur can carry reports now and then to Dr. Maryland, and Prim or her father bring them to you.'