'I was not unhappy, Wych,' said Dane after a little pause. 'My latent longing for you it is impossible to tell; but I could not let it come to the front then. And there is a walk and a place "with Jesus only," which at the time is joyful, and on looking back to it seems to have wanted nothing.' Her head stirred a little; presently, she answered,—'I did not think you were unhappy. If I had, I believe it would have been a help sometimes.' 'Hey?—a help? How?' 'You would not have seemed so far off. And I should not have seemed so much alone.' 'That was a mistake, Hazel.' 'I only said it seemed so. But there was a certain truth in it, too; because happy people never do guess exactly what goes on in the rest of the world.' 'Pray, do the unhappy people?' But Hazel caught the sound of steps, and started away from her foot-cushion time enough to meet Dr. Arthur midway in the room. 'Rested, Dane?' said the doctor, standing before his late patient. 'That does not sound like a complicated question,' said Dane; 'but it means a good deal. I am ready.' 'What he wants,' said Dr. Arthur, turning gravely to Wych Hazel, 'is a change. If your grace could persuade him to go off for a while, in the right company, he would come back a new man.' 'I shall have a change this week,' said Dane rising. 'Come along, old fellow, or I shall prescribe for you.—I shall be here as early as I can, Hazel; before dinner.' CHAPTER XXI. THE LOSS OF POWER. Wych Hazel ordered an early lunch for herself, and a fire in the red room, and fresh flowers for its adornment; and with these last she was busy—humming over them the spell of an old German choral—when Rollo came in. The air was dainty with fragrance and sweet sounds. He smiled at it, and at Hazel; but after the first greeting was grave again. 'I have got news for you to-day,' he said. 'Have you?' said Hazel, intent on placing a Safrano rose. Then the tone caught her attention and she looked up hastily. 'Not more sickness?' He shook his head. 'Paul Charteris has stopped work.' 'Is that all?' said Wych Hazel. 'The wonder to me is that such men ever go on.' 'He has not failed. He has stopped work. That is enough, of you knew what it means.' 'Not that all his men are turned adrift?' 'Just that. Three or four hundred families.' 'But they cannot move off and find work in the dead of winter!— What is the man thinking of?' 'Only, I suppose, of what are called the exigencies of business. There is not a good market, just now, for his cloths; he would be largely out of pocket presently if he went on paying out, with nothing coming in.' '_Could_ he do it?' 'I cannot tell.' She bent thoughtfully over her flowers for a minute, touching them here and there; then looked up again. 'Have the same exigencies come near you?' He smiled. 'No. I am sound yet.'