All sweetness at times, but at others irritable, moody, and scarce mistress of herself.

Hazel was sorry and perplexed, and often expressed a fear she was ill.

The answer was always in the negative.

He did not press her, but worked on for her, hoping the mood would pass.

And so it would, no doubt, if the cause had not remained.
Matters were still in this uncomfortable and mysterious state when Hazel put his finishing stroke to her abode.
He was in high spirits that evening, for he had made a discovery; he had at last found time for a walk, and followed the river to its source, a very remarkable lake in a hilly basin.