A week? was it only a week ago? Hazel wondered. Those three days of prostration had seemed to put whole continents of time between her and the wild walk across the hill-top; though the traces of that day, and of the weeks that went before, were still visible enough. Not strong yet, to withstand and manage the incoming tide of new thoughts and prospects and responsibilities, she took all the petting and pleasure and care with the most gravely girlish face imaginable. Watching her two companions, listening to them, and giving them now and then a bright blush or smile out of the midst of her thoughts, yet all the time conscious of the thoughts as well. No, she has not quite all he could wish; not all that he ought to have. She knew that; she had known it ever since last winter; and whatever love and devotion could do, let the supply be never so unlimited, they could not do all. There would be ground he would occupy, where she could not stand by his side; there would be work he would do, which she was not fit to share. Would be? there was now. This coming in among his labours and plans had brought it home to her keenly. All the same, she could take no new stand just to please him; it would not be true, she could not keep up to it, could not act it out. Was she ready, for other reasons, to take such a stand? The old tangle of perplexed questions seemed closing her in again; and now and then, between whiles, when Rollo was looking away, the brown eyes studied him; as if studying his face would magnetize her out of her difficulties,—the one person in all the world who belonged to her, and to whom she belonged. But it was intensely like Wych Hazel, that the more she realized this, the more she hung back from following in the steps of his Christian life merely because they were his. They should be true _for her_, or she would not take them at all. The talk at the table ran a good deal upon matters and things in the Hollow. Gyda knew the ins and outs of many a house there; she could illustrate and prove the truth of some of Rollo's statements, and she could suggest wants, even if she did not know to contrive the remedy. 'There's something you haven't thought of yet, Olaf,' she observed. 'They are just heathens and savages down there.' 'What makes you think I have not thought of it?' 'Well, you haven't begun to plan for it.' 'How can you venture to say that?' 'I haven't heard you say a word.' 'Do you think, Hazel, that proves anything?' 'It would not with me,' she said. 'But Mrs. Boërresen should know you.' 'She should,' said Rollo. 'It appears she don't.' 'You talk of a great many other things,' said the old woman smiling. 'I've been waiting to hear when _that_ would come up. What are you going to do, lad?'