’Wait!—­Hazel, you haven’t heard what I wanted to say to you.  Don’t be angry with me!  O dear Hazel, do you know what sort of times these four-in-hand people make down here?’

‘I intend to find out.’

’But they are not fit for you, Hazel, indeed:  it is not a fit place for you to be.  Hazel, they are often tipsy when they drive home.  Papa wouldn’t let me be in such a place and ride with them, for anything.  How come you to be here?’

Hazel freed herself again with impatient haste.

‘Let go of me!’ she said.  ’The man who drives me home will be sober.  I will not hear any more.’

‘Listen, Hazel, listen!’ cried Prim, clinging to her.  ’O do not be angry with me!  But you ought not be here; and Duke will not let you stay, dear.  We have brought the carriage to take you home.’

Prim never could tell afterwards what sort of a look or what sort of a sound answered that; what she did know was that Wych Hazel was at the door and had it open in her hand.  Prim’s gentleness, however, on this occasion was no bar to energetic action; with another spring she was at the door and had taken it from Wych Hazel’s hand, had shut it, and set her back against it; all too suddenly and determinately to leave chance for prevention.

’Hazel, dear, listen to me.  You ought not be here, and Duke will not let you.  He has come to take you home, and he brought me with him because he thought it would be nicer for you.  And he thought you would rather see me than him; but if you won’t listen to me, I must call him.  He will not let you stay, Hazel, and Duke always is right.  But he thought you would like better to go quietly off with me than to have any fuss made, and all these people knowing about it and everybody talking.  Wouldn’t it be nicer to go quietly without any one knowing why you go?’

It was indescribable the way in which Miss Kennedy repeated the word ‘nice!’ Then she spoke collectedly.

’Prim, I do not want to call in any of my friends—­but I declare I will, if you do not move away!’

‘Must I call Duke?’ said Prim, despairingly keeping her place.

’If you want him’—­said Miss Kennedy, turning now towards the bell.  As the young lady faced about again, after pulling the bell rope, she was confronted by her unwelcome guardian, just before her.

It is almost proverbially known that the meeting of contrasts is apt to have a powerful influence on one side or the other; unless indeed the opposing forces are, what rarely happens, of equal weight.  What met Wych Hazel as she looked at him was power—­not of physical strength; the power of high breeding, which is imposing as well as graceful; and also the power of a perfectly unmoved self-possession.  While there was at the same time a winsome, gentle look, that she could hardly see in her agitation, the spirit of which she could partly feel in the voice that spoke to her.  Neither cloud nor frown nor discomposure of any sort was in it.  He bowed, and then held out his hand.