'He was afraid,' Dane went on smiling, 'that if I had a chance to see you I might choose to take the conditions of the will; he had good reason to fear! You must write him the dutifullest, gentlest, lovingest letter, Hazel; and lay off the blame of everything upon the shoulders that can bear it. Mr. Falkirk knows me. And if, by and by, we could coax him to come and make his home with us, I should be happy.' 'And everybody knew it but me!'—said Hazel, thinking out. 'It is good I can do no more mischief.' 'What is that?' said Dane laughing. 'What mischief have you done?' 'Hush—I was talking to myself. But oh, I am so sorry!—' Looks and tones and words and recollections were pouring in upon her like a flood. 'What are you sorry for? You need not be sorry, my little Wych,' said he, changing his tone with the last words. 'You have done him good and given him pleasure for so many years; and I am not without hope that both good and pleasure will be renewed and continued to the end of his life. So write a nice letter to him. And come to dinner in the first place.' But it was a very remorseful flushed face that came to the table. 'Done him good and given him pleasure!' she repeated;—'teased his life out, would be nearer the mark.' 'That did him good,' said Dane dryly. 'That is the way you expect to give me pleasure, you know.' From under a queer little lift of her eyebrows, Hazel looked up at him. 'Is it?' she said with equal dryness. 'Does the leopard change his spots?' 'The other half of the simile is more like me,' said Hazel,— 'however, if you prefer this— But given the spots, the pleasure may be to seek.' 'I can find it, as fast as you find the spots. Will you have cheese with your soup?' Hazel thought within herself, declining the cheese, that the day when she ventured any of her old pranks with _that_ particular person, was somewhat remote. Would she ever be "true witch" again, she wondered? 'You forget,' she said. 'You told me once yourself that you thought very few men could stand it.' 'I meant—except me,' said Dane with great coolness. 'You'—didn't, was on Hazel's tongue, but she let it stay there. A quick, bright eye flash went over her, but Dane kept his countenance and went on with his dinner. He understood very well one or two things that were in Hazel's mind. He knew that she thought she had lost liberty in marrying, and he knew that she was mistaken in thinking so; but he also knew that the sweet growths of the mind cannot be forced; and he could wait. He never said "my dear" and "my love" to her, this man; he let Hazel find him out for what he was, all hers; but it might take time. He thought he would give her a little help. 'Have you been studying the third chapter of Genesis?' he asked when the servant was out of the room. 'No. At least—I was thinking of Adam and Eve a little when you came home.' 'In German or English?' 'English prose.'