Dusky, and yet clear; a cloudless depth of sky out of which stars were brightening; a still air with almost a breath of frost in it; outlines of the Hollow hills darkly drawn against the soft twilight sky; the silence of evening, when mill-work was done, over all and in everything. Rollo did not speak, and they heard—if they heard—only the sound of their own steps down the path. When they were in the carriage, Rollo presently, with a gentle word, untied Wych Hazel's flat hat and took it off; drew a corner of the shawl over her head, and putting his arm round her made her lay down her head upon his shoulder and lean upon him. 'But Mr. Rollo——' said Hazel timidly, finding that her acted remonstrance had no effect. 'What?' 'I am quite able to sit up.' 'I have no faith whatever in that statement.' 'If you will let me try—the other,'—Hazel began. 'The other shoulder?' But the answer to that tarried. Hazel knew perfectly well that if she spoke in the first minute she would laugh; which was not at all according to her present system of tactics. And in the second, her words were not ready, and by the time the third came it was rather too late. So silence reigned, while Reo sent the horses along, over the level smooth road, and the evening air came in crisp and fresh at the open window, and stars looked down winking in their quiet way of saying sweet things. They always do, when one is happy; sometimes in other states of mind they seem high above sympathy. But to-night they looked down at Hazel confidentially, and crickets and nameless insects chirruped along by the roadside; and on and on the carriage rolled, mile after mile. Rollo was as still as the stars, almost. And so was Wych Hazel, for a long time; still as anything could be that lived. Suddenly a question broke from her. 'What was it you were going to say to me?' 'When?' The word came with a ring of many thoughts, through which a grave tenderness most vibrated. 'You said, _that_ was the best time. And you did not take it,' said Hazel. 'Hush,' said he softly and gravely. 'All has been said; except that I shall never forgive myself, Hazel.' CHAPTER V. ASLEEP AND AWAKE.