‘We were standing just then by the open lawn and the circle of dancers; and—I think—my foot stirred a little, answering the measure if a new waltz which the band struck up. In an instant, before I had time to think or speak, he had whirled me off among the crowd. So much taller than I, so much stronger, so skilled a dancer, that at first I could only go where I was taken, obliged to keep the step, in my own self-defence. One hand of course he held; but the other—did not—touch him. And, presently, I made him let me go. But (we had gone so fast) not till we had taken rather more than one round, I think, I am not quit sure. And I always mean to tell you.’—The voice fell a little, breaking off short. She had not looked at him once since he came in; she did not look now, to see how her story was received, but sat still, feeling as if her very life were at stand. His face had changed notably as she went on; its burden of grave care cleared away; his brow grew full of light; the eyebrows came into their wonted line; but Rollo’s eyes were the eyes of a man whose soul is on fire. He stood breathlessly at first, then sitting down beside the girl got possession of one of her hands, but only so speaking his sympathy or eagerness; till as she finished he brought it to his lips, or rather bowed his lips to it and kissed the little hand over and over. He made no other answer; he said no word at all, till the dark flush which had kindled in his face at her story a little faded away. Then, still holding her hand perhaps unconsciously close, he said, low enough, ‘And what about the guardianship, Hazel?’ The girl was in that state when to withstand or to bear seems equally difficult: there is no strength for either; and the colour which flitted over her face at his demonstrations was less of shyness than of intense feeling. It all went now, at his words. ‘I thought,’ she said (the words came too quick, but she could not help it) ‘that you had resigned, Mr. Rollo.’ Rollo got the other hand into his keeping, and merely inquired in the same tone ‘what she wanted him to do?’ ‘I used to want you to trust me. But it would not be any use now.’ Rollo’s lips touched her hand again, both hands. ‘What about the guardianship, Hazel?’ he repeated, with a glow and sparkle of the gray eyes, which yet had an odd veil of softness over them. But a man will be a man. I am afraid Rollo was smiling at the same time.