‘And Arthur and I would say the same,’ added Primrose.

Her brother answered in the words so long age written, so many times lived out. ’ “Not a myself—­but Christ; not a my will—­but Christ.  Not a mine ease, or my profit, or my pleasure, but Christ.” ’

The girl looked from one to the other, as each spoke, with a flash of sympathy; even as thoughts stir and kindle at the sound of a bugle call, while yet they know not what it says.  But then she turned suddenly round and looked at Rollo.  An expectant look, that waited for him to speak,—­that gathered—­or he fancied so—­a shade of disappointment as it turned away again to the face on the wall.  She sat silent, leaning her chin upon her hands.  His look had been perfectly grave, thoughtful and quiet; but otherwise did not reveal itself.  There was a general silence.  Then Dr. Maryland said,

‘Do you understand the paradox, my dear?’

‘I think I must be the paradox myself,’ Hazel answered with a half laugh.  ’I could do that—­I could bear the arrows:  I think I could.  But you never saw anybody, sir, that liked giving up—­ anything—­less than I do.’

‘You would rather bear the arrows than the cords,’ said Dr. Arthur Maryland.  ‘It is easier.’

‘Depends on the people,’ said Primrose.

’ “As having nothing, and yet possessing all things,” ’ Dr. Maryland added rather dreamily.

‘I suppose,’ said Rollo, with a moment’s deep look into Wych Hazel’s eyes, ‘the free spirit is beyond bonds.’

‘That is it, my boy!’ exclaimed Dr. Maryland.  ’Think—­when Paul and Silas were in the dungeon at Philippi—­a dreary place, most likely; and they, beaten and bleeding and sore, stretched and confined in the wooden frame which I suppose left them not one moment’s ease,—­at midnight it was, they fell to such singing and praising that the other prisoners waked up and listened to hear the song.’

Hazel crossed her slender wrists and sat looking at them, imagining the bonds.

‘Do you think it is all in me?’ she said, with another sudden appeal to Rollo.

Rollo was not a man fond of wearing his heart upon his sleeve.  Another momentary glance went through her eyes, as it were, and was withdrawn, before he gave a short, grave ‘yes.’  Hazel went back to her musings without another word, and only the least bit of a triumphant curl about the corners of her mouth.

‘I wonder how it would feel?’ she said, crossing and uncrossing her hands.

‘What?’ said Primrose.

‘Bonds—­and chains,’ said the girl, clasping her wrist tight.  ‘To have my hands tied!’

‘You are not called upon to find out, my dear,’ said Dr. Maryland; ’that is not required of you.  But remember, Hazel, no bonds are heavy but love wears.’

‘Depends upon how they get on, sir,’ she said, quickly.

‘What?’ said the doctor, with a somewhat comic twinkle coming into his eye.  ‘How is that?’