BEGINNING A FAIRY TALE.
'Mr. Falkirk, I must go and seek my fortune!'
Wych Hazel made this little remark, sitting on a low seat by the fire, her arms crossed over her lap.
'Wherefore?' said her guardian.
'Because I want to, sir. I have no other than a woman's reason.'
'The most potent of reasons!' said Mr. Falkirk. 'The rather, because while professing to have no root, it hath yet a dozen. How long ago did Jack show his lantern, my dear?'
'Lantern!' said the girl, rather piqued—adding, under her breath, 'I'm going to follow—Jack or no Jack! Why, Mr. Falkirk, I never got interested a bit in a fairy tale, till I came to—"And so they set out to seek their fortune." It's my belief that I belong in a fairy tale somewhere.'
'Like enough,' said her guardian shortly.
'So you see it all fits,' said Wych Hazel, studying her future fortunes in the fire.
'What fits?'
'My going to seek what I am sure to find.'
'That will ensure your missing what is coming to find you.'
'People in fairy tales never wait to see what will come, sir.'
'But, my dear, there is a difficulty in this case. Your fortune is made already.'
'Provokingly true, sir. But after all, Mr. Falkirk, I was not thinking of money.'
'A settlement, eh?' said Mr. Falkirk. 'My dear, when the prince is ready, the fairy will bring him.'
'Now, Mr. Falkirk,' said the girl, with her cheeks aglow, 'you know perfectly well I was not thinking of that.'
'Will you please to specify of what you were thinking, Miss
Hazel?'
Miss Hazel leaned her head on her hand and reflected.
'I don't believe I can, sir. It was a kind of indefinite fortune—a whole windfall of queer adventures and people and things.'
Mr. Falkirk at this turned round from his papers and looked at the girl. It was a pretty vision that he saw, and he regarded it somewhat steadily; with a little break of the line of the lips that yet was not merriment.
'My dear,' he said gravely, 'such birds seldom fly alone in a high wind.'
'Well, sir, never mind. Could you be ready by Thursday, Mr.
Falkirk?'
'For what, Miss Hazel?'
'Dear me!' said the girl with a soft breath of impatience. 'To set out, sir. I think I shall go then, and I wanted to know if I am to have the pleasure of your company.'
'Do I look like a fairy tale?' said Mr. Falkirk.
He certainly did not! A keen eye for practical realities, a sober good sense that never lost its foothold of common ground, were further unaccompanied by the graces and charms wherewith fairy tales delight to deck their favourites. Besides which, Mr. Falkirk probably knew what his fortune was already, for the grey was abundantly mingled with the brown in his eyebrows and hair. However, to do Miss Hazel's guardian justice, if his face was not gracious, it was at least in some respects fine. A man always to be respected, easily to be loved, sat there at the table, at his papers.
As for the little 'nut-browne mayd' who studied destiny in the fire, she merely glanced up at him in answer to this appeal; and with a shake of the head as if fairy tales and he were indeed hopelessly disconnected, returned to her musings. Then suddenly burst forth—
'I am so puzzled about the colour of my new travelling dress! "Contrasts," and "harmonies," and all that stuff, belong to the pink and white people. But pink and brown—Mr. Falkirk, do you suppose I can find anything browner than myself, that will set me off, and do?—I can't travel in gold colour.'
'You want to have as much as possible the effect of a picture in a frame?'
'Not at all, sir. That is just what I want to avoid. The dress should be a part of the picture.'
'I don't doubt it will be!' said Mr. Falkirk sighing. 'Before you set out, my dear, had you not better invest your property? so that you could live upon the gathered interest if the capital should fail.'
'I thought it was invested?' said the girl, looking up.
'Only a part of it,' replied Mr. Falkirk. 'Nothing but your money.'
'Nothing but!' said Wych Hazel. 'Why what more have I, Mr.
Falkirk?'
'A young life,' said her guardian—'a young and warm heart—good looks, an excellent constitution, a head and hands that might do much. To which I might add—an imagination.'
'My dear Mr. Falkirk,' said the girl laughing, 'I shall want them all to pay my travelling expenses. All but the last—and that is invested already, to judge by the interest.'
He smiled, a shaded smile, such as he often wore when she danced away from his grave suggestions. He never pursued her. But when she added,
'After all, sir, investments are your affair,'—
'My dear,' he said, 'a woman's jewels are in her own keeping—unless indeed God keep them. Yet let her remember that they are not hers to have and to hold, but to have and to use; a mere life interest—nor always that.'
And then for a while silence fell.
'Will you think me very extravagant if I get a new travelling dress, sir?' the girl began again.
'I have not usually been the guardian of your wardrobe, Miss
Hazel.'
'No, sir, of course; but I wanted your opinion. You gave one about my jewels. And by the way, Mr. Falkirk, won't you just tell me the list over again?'
Mr. Falkirk turned round and bent his brows upon Wych Hazel now, but without speaking.
'Well, sir?' she repeated, looking up at him, 'what are they, if you please?'
'Two brilliants of the first water,' replied Mr. Falkirk looking down into her eyes. 'To which some people add, two fine bits of sardius.'
'And which some people say are set in bronze,'—said the young lady, but with a pretty little laugh and flush.
'Where do you propose the search should begin?' said the gentleman, disregarding this display.
'At Chickaree, sir. I should go down there at once, and so start from home in proper style.'
'And your plan of operations?' pursued Mr. Falkirk.
'Perfectly simple, sir. Of two roads I should always take the most difficult, and so on—ad infinitum.'
'Perfectly simple, indeed,' said Mr. Falkirk. 'Yet it might lead to a complication. I'm afraid it would prove a Western line of travel, my dear—end in a squirrel track, and run up a tree.'
'What a lookout we shall have!' said Wych Hazel. 'But about the dress, Mr. Falkirk—you know my last one is quite new—and I do so want another!'
'Then get it,' he said with a smile. 'Though I am afraid, my dear, it is hardly in keeping. Quickear began the search in rags, and Cincerella in ashes, and the "Fair one with the golden locks" had, I think, no other adornment. Puss in boots was indeed new rigged—but Puss was only a deputy. What do you say to sending me forth in boots, to seek a fortune for you?'
An irrepressible laugh rippled forth—sweet and sound, and, oh, so heartwhole!
'Let me see,' she said; 'To-day is Monday. To-morrow I will get the dress and distract my dressmaker. And next Monday we will set out, and take Chickaree for our first stage. My dear Mr. Falkirk—most potent, grave, and reverend sir—if you