'Go with me to New York, Wych! Then we can make it all right.' Her face grew suddenly grave with a frightened look, as if she had stepped into a net, or caught herself in a trap. 'We were not talking of that,' she said hurriedly,—'and there is no need to talk of that. And you promised.' 'There is no need to talk about it, if it is ever to be done,' said Dane smiling. 'If you will think about it—which I believe you never do, you will perceive that unless we are to be separated all our lives, we must some time or other be married. And the best way with anything you are afraid of, is to do it, and have it over!' He had smiled, and his accent was very winning; but he grew grave again, and stood with folded arms looking at Wych Hazel. Even then he would not use persuasions; he would not have her against her will; but he watched her anxiously. If she refused him now, it might be long before he brought up the subject again. He would not tell her that, either; he left her free; and waited to see how the delicate balances of her mind would turn. But he sighed a little as she hesitated, and then smiled again as he spoke; a smile very frank and sweet. 'Be brave, Hazel! If you are ever going to trust me, you may as well do it at once.' Hazel turned away and sat down on her foot-cushion, and buried her face in her hands. Was she ever to be done with fights and perplexities? was she ever to be quietly happy, like other people? Last night she had been sober for very joy, at first; and now after all those long, bitter two months, there was no sweet sunshine to follow. For being married did not look at all sweet to Hazel: it was true, she had hardly thought of it at all. Well, she could do as she pleased. Yes,—but she knew, without seeing, the disappointment to somebody else. That she did not quite understand it, did not hide the fact. And can a woman who loves, ever really prefer her own pleasure? She looked up with even a pale face, and the wet eyelashes that so few people had ever seen. 'You do not remember'—she said. 'You do not seem to understand!' 'You are the shyest bird that ever flew without wings!' said Dane drawing another low seat to her side. 'I understand wet eyes too well. I remember only that I have been waiting a year and half for you. But if I wait all my life, Hazel, I will not have you at such cost as that. If your heart is not as mine,—that it would be our happiness to be together,—I will go back to my work and wait another six months.' He spoke gently and gravely, and stooped as he spoke to kiss the wet eyes. 'Statements'—said the girl, in an impatient tone which yet faltered and broke before it got through. 'You shall make the statements,' said Dane, getting her hand in his, and holding it with that gentle, firm clasp which, in some hands, expresses so much; soothing and steadying and sympathizing, and claiming too; all at once. 'What is the matter, my little Wych?'