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WYLDEK'S HAND.
lohi
BY
J. SHERIDAN LE FANU,
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ADTIIOB 0? "THE HOUSE BY THE CHUBCHYABD," "UJtCLE SILAS," ETC.
6V '» J.
VCtjC-Ltf > ."> -_'/...-
NEW YORK:
CARLETOJV, PUBLISHER, 418
865.


111426R


WYLDER'S HAND,
CHAPTER I.
RELATING HOW I DROVE THROUGH THE VILLAGE OF
GYLIXGDEN WITH MARK WYLDER'S LETTER IN MY VA-
LISE.
It was late in autumn, and I was skimming along,
through a rich English country, in a postchaise, among
tall hedge-rows gilded, like all the landscape, with the
slanting beams of sunset. The road makes a long and
easy descent into the little town of Gylingden, and down
this we were going at an exhilarating pace, and the jingle
of the vehicle sounded like sledge-bells in my ears, and
its swaying and jerking were pleasant and life-like.
An undulating landscape, with a homely farmstead here
and there, and plenty of old English timber scattered over
it, extended mistily to my right; on the left the road
is overtopped by a noble forest. The old park of Brandon
lies there, more than four miles from end to end. These
masses of solemn and discolored verdure, the faint but
splendid lights, and long filmy shadows, the slopes and
hollows — my eyes wandered over them all with that
strange sense of unreality, and that mingling of sweet
and bitter fancy, with which we revisit a scene familiar in
early childhood, and which has haunted a long inter-
val of maturity and absence, like a romantic reverie.


6 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
As I looked through the chaise-windows, every moment
presented some group, or outline, or homely object, for
years forgotten; and now, with a strange surprise how
vividly remembered, and how affectionately greeted! We
drove by the small parsonage at the left, with its double
gable and pretty grass garden, and trim yews and modern
lilacs and laburnums, backed by the grand timber of the
park.
The pretty mill-road, running up through Redman's
Dell, dank and dark with tall trees, was left behind in
another moment; and we were now traversing the homely
and antique street of the little town, with its queer shops
and solid steep-roofed residences. Up Church-street I
contrived a peep at the old grey tower where -the chimes
hung; and as we turned the corner a glance at the " Bran-
don Arms." How very small and low that palatial hos-
telry of my earlier recollections had grown! There
were new faces at the door. It was only two-and-twenty
years ago, and then I was but eleven years old.
My journey was from London. When I had reached
my lodgings, after my little excursion up the Rhine, upon
my table there lay, among the rest, one letter which I
viewed with suspicion. I could not in the least tell why.
It was a broad-faced letter, of bluish complexion, and had
made inquisition after me in the country — had asked
for me at Queen's Folkstone; and, vised by my cousin,
had presented itself at the Friars, in Shropshire, and
thence proceeded by Sir Harry's direction (there was the
autograph) to Nolton Hall; thence again to Ilchester,
whence my fiery and decisive old aunt sent it straight
back to my cousin, with a whisk of her pen which seemed
to say, "How the plague can I tell where the puppy is?
— 'tis your business, sir, not mine, to find him out!"
And so my cousin despatched it to my head-quarters in


WYLDER'S HAJVD. f
town, where from the table it looked up in my face, with
a broad red seal, and a countenance scarred and marred
all over with various post-marks, erasures, and transverse
directions, the scars and furrows of disappointment and
adventure.
It had not a good countenance, somehow. The origi-
nal lines were not prepossessing. The handwriting I
knew as one sometimes knows a face, without being able
to remember who the plague it belongs to; but, still, with
an unpleasant association about it. I examined it care-
fully, and laid it down unopened. I went through half-
a-dozen others, and recurred to it, and puzzled over its
exterior again, and again postponed what I fancied would
prove a disagreeable discovery; and this happened every
BOW and again, until I had quite exhausted my budget
and then I did open it, and looked straight to the signa-
ture.
"Pooh! Mark Wylder," I exclaimed, a good deal re-
lieved.
Mark Wylder! Yes, Master Mark could not hurt
me. There was nothing about him to excite the least
uneasiness; on the contrary, I believe he liked me as well
as he was capable of liking anybody, and it was now seven
years since we had met.
I had been his working junior in the cause of Wylder
v. Trustees of Brandon, minor — Dorcas Brandon, his
own cousin. There was a complicated cousinship among
these Brandons, Wylders, and Lakes — inextricable in-
termarriages, which, five years ago, before I renounced
the bar, I had at my fingers' ends, but which had now re-
lapsed into haze. There must have been some damnable
taint in the blood of the common ancestor — a spice of the
insane and the diabolical. They were an ill-conditioned
race — that is to say, every now and then there emerged


8 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
a miscreant, with a pretty evident vein of madness. There
was Sir Jonathan Brandon, for instance, who ran his own
nephew through the lungs in a duel fought in a paroxysm
of Cencian jealousy; and afterwards shot his coachman
dead upon the box through his coach-window, and finally
died in Vienna, whither he had absconded, of a pike-thrust
received from a sentry in a brawl.
The Wylders had not much to boast of, even in contrast
with that wicked line. They had produced their madmen
and villains, too; and there had been frequent intermar-
riages — not very often happy. There had been lawsuits,
frequent disinheritings, and even worse doings. The Wyl-
ders of Brandon appear very early in history; and the
Wylder arms, with their legend, " resurgam," stand in bold
relief over the great door of Brandon Hall. So there
were Wylders of Brandon, and Brandons of Brandon.
In one generation, a Wylder ill-using his wife and hating
his children, would cut them all off, and send the estate
bounding back again to the Brandons. The next genera-
tion or two would amuse themselves with a lawsuit, until
the old Brandon type reappeared in some bachelor brother
or uncle, with a Jezebel on his left hand, and an attorney
on his right, and, presto! the estates were back again
with the Wylders.
Here is Mark Wylder's letter: —
"DEAR CHAKLES — Of course you have heard of my
good luck, and how kind poor Dickie — from whom I never
expected anything — proved at last. It was a great wind-
fall for a poor devil like me; but, after all, it was only
right, for it ought never to have been his at all. I went
down and took possession on the 4th, the tenants very
glad, and so they might well be; for, between ourselves,
Dickie, poor fellow, was not always pleasant to deal with.
He let the roof all out of repair, and committed waste be-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. Q
side in timber he had no right to in life, as I am told; but
that don't signify much, only the house will cost me a
pretty penny to get it into order and furnished. The
rental is five thousand a-year and some hundreds, and the
rents can be got up a bit — so Larkin tells me. Do you
know anything of him? He says he did business for your
uncle once. He seems a clever fellow — a bit too clever,
perhaps — and was too much master here, I suspect, in
poor Dickie's reign. Tell me all you can make out about
him. It is a long time since I saw you, Charles; I'm
grown brown, and great whiskers. I met poor Dominick
— what an ass that chap is — but he did not know me till
I introduced myself, so I must be a good deal changed.
Our ship was at Malta when I got the letter. I was sick
of the service, and no wonder: a lieutenant — and there
likely to stick all my days. Six months, last year, on the
African coast, watching slavers — think of that! I had a
long yarn from the Viscount — advice, and that sort of
thing. I do not think he is a year older than I, but takes
airs because he's a trustee. But I only laugh at trifles that
would have riled me once. So I wrote him a yarn in
return, and drew it uncommon mild. And he has been
useful to me; and I think matters are pretty well arranged
to disappoint the kind intention of good uncle Wylder — the
brute; he hated my father, but that was no reason to per-
secute me, and I but an infant, almost, when he died.
Well, you know he left Brandon with some charges to my
cousin Dorcas. She is a superbly fine girl. Our ship
was at Naples when she was there two years ago; and I
saw a good deal of her. Of course it was not to be thought
of then; but matters are quite different now, and the
Viscount, who is a very sensible fellow in the main, saw it
at once. You see, the old brute meant to leave her a life
estate; but it does not amount to that, though it won't


10 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
benefit me, for be settled that when I die it shall go to his
right heirs — that will be to my son, if I ever have one.
So Miss Dorcas must pack, and turn out whenever I die,
that is, if I slip my cable first. Larkin told me this'-—
and I took an opinion — and found it so; and the Viscount
seeing it, arranged the best thing for her as well as me
would be, we should marry. She is a wide-awake young
lady, and nothing the worse for that: I'm a bit that way
myself. And so very little courtship has sufficed. She
is a splendid beauty, and when you see her you'll say any
fellow might be proud of such a bride; and so I am. And
now, dear Charlie, you. have it all. It will take place
somewhere about the twenty-fourth of next month; and
you must come down by the first, if you can. Don't
disappoint. I want you for best man, maybe; and besides
I would like to talk to you about some things they want
me to do in the settlements, and you were always a
long-headed fellow : so pray dont refuse.
"Ever most sincerely, Your old Friend,
"MARK WYLDER.
"P. S.— I stay at the Brandon Arms in the town, until
after the marriage; and then you can have a room at the
Hall, and capital shooting when we return, which will be in
a fortnight after."
I can't say that Wylder was an old friend. But he
was certainly one of the oldest and most intimate acquain-
tances I had. We had been for nearly three years at
school together; and when his ship came to England,
met frequently; and twice, when he was on leave, we had
been for months together under the same roof; and had
for some years kept up a correspondence, which first grew.
desultory, and finally, as manhood supervened, died out.
The plain truth is, I did not very much like him.


CHAPTER II.
IN WHICH I ENTER THE DRAWING-KOOM.
•
I was now approaching Brandon Hall; less than ten
minutes more would set me down at its door-steps. The
stiff figure of Mrs. Marston, the old housekeeper, pale
and austere, in rustling black silk (she was accounted a
miser, and estimated to have saved I dare not say how
much money in the Wylder family) — kind to me with
the bread-and-jarn and Naples-biscuit-kindness of her
species, in old times — stood in fancy at the doorway.
She, too, was a dream, and, I dare say, her money spent
by this time. And that other dream, to which she often
led me, with the large hazel eyes, and clear delicate tints
— so sweet, so riante, yet so sad; poor Lady Mary Bran-
don, dying there — so unhappily mated — a young moth-
er, and her baby sleeping in long "broderie anglaise " at-
tire upon the pillow on the sofa, and whom she used to
show me with a peeping mystery, and her finger to her
smiling lip, and a gaiety and fondness in her pretty face.
That little helpless, groping, wailing creature was now
the Dorcas Brandon, the mistress of the old mansion and
all its surroundings, who was the heroine of the splendid
matrimonial compromise which was about to reconcile a
feud, and avert a possible lawsuit, and for one generation
at least, to tranquilize the troubled annals of the Bran-
dons and Wylders.
And now the ancient gray chapel, with its stained win-
dow, and store of old Brandon and Wylder monuments
among its solemn clump of elm-trees, flitted by on m*-


12 WYLLER'S HAJVD.
right; and in a moment more we drew up at the great gate
on the left, not a hundred yards removed from it, and with
an eager recognition I gazed on the noble front of the old
manorial house.
Up the broad straight avenue, with its solemn files of
gigantic timber towering at the right and the left hand, the
chaise rolled smoothly, and through the fantastic iron'gate
of the courtyard, and we drew up handsomely before the
door-steps, with the Wylder arms carved above it.
The sun had just gone down. The blue shadows of
twilight overcast the landscape, and the mists of night
were already stealing like thin smoke among the trunks
and roots of the trees. Through the stone mullions of
the projecting window at the right, a flush of fire-light
looked pleasant and hospitable, and on the threshold were
standing Lord Chelford and ray old friend Mark Wylder;
a faint perfume of the mildest cheroot declared how they
had been employed.
So I jumped to the ground and was greeted very kind
ly by the smokers.
"I'm here, you know, in loco parentis ; —my moth-
er and I keep watch and ward. We allow Wylder, you
see, to come every day to his devotions. But you are
not to go to the Brandon Arms — you got my note, didn't
you?"
I had, and had come direct to the .Hall in consequence.
Dusty and seedy somewhat, as men are after a journey,
I chatted with Mark and the noble peer for a few minutes
at the door, while my valise and et ceteras were lifted in,
and hurried up the stairs to my room, whither I followed
them. While I was at my toilet, in came Mark Wylder
laughing, as was his wont, and very unceremoniously he
took possession of my easy-chair, and threw his leg over
the arm of it.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 13
"I'm glad you're come, Charlie; you were always a
good fellow, and I really want a hand here confoundedly.
I think it will all do very nicely; but, of course, there's
a lot of things to be arranged — settlements, you know —
and I can't make head or tail of their lingo, and a fellow
don't like to sign and seal hand over head: and Chelford
is a very good fellow, of course, and all that — but he's
taking care of Dorcas, you see; and I might be left in the
lurch."
"It is a better way, at all events, Mark, than Wylder
versus Trustees of Brandon, minor," said I.
"Well, things do turn out very oddly; don't they?"
said Mark, with a sly glance of complacency, and his hands
in his pockets. "But I know you'll hold the tiller till I
get through; hang me, if I know the soundings, or where
I'm going; and you have the chart by heart, Charlie."
"I'm afraid you'll find me by no means so well up now
as six years ago in " Wylder and Brandon ;" but surely
you have your lawyer, Mr. Larkin, haven't you?"
"To be sure — that's exactly it — he's Dorcas's agent.
I don't know anything about him, and I do know you —
don't you see? A fellow doesn't want to put himself in-
to the hands of a stranger altogether, especially a lawyer,
ha, ha! it wouldn't pay."
I did not half like the equivocal office which my friend
. had prepared for me. If family squabbles were to arise,
I had no fancy to mix in them; and I did not want a col-
lision with Mr. Larkin either; and, on the whole, not-
withstanding his modesty, I thought Wylder very well
able to take care of himself. There was time enough,
however, to settle the point. So by this time, being splen-
did in French boots and white vest, and altogether perfect
and refreshed, I emerged from my dressing-room, Wyl-
der by my side.


14 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
We had to get along a dim oak-pannelled passage, and in-
to a sort of ceil-de-bceuf, with a lantern light above, from
which diverged two other corridors, and a short puzzling
turn or two brought us to the head of the upper stairs.
For I, being a bachelor, and treated accordingly, was air-
ily perched on the third story.
It was dark by this time, and the drawing-room — a vast
and grand chamber, with no light but the fire and a pair
of dim soft lamps near the sofas and ottomans, lofty, and
glowing with rich tapestry curtains, and pictures, and mir-
rors, and carved oak, and marble — was already tenanted
by the ladies.
Old Lady Chelford, stiff and rich, a Vandyke dowager,
with a general effect of deep lace, funereal velvet, and
pearls; and pale, with dreary eyes, and thin high nose,
sat in a high-backed carved oak throne, with red cushions.
To her I was first presented, and cursorily scrutinised
with a stately old-fashioned insolence, as if I were a can-
didate footman, and so dismissed. On a low seat, chatting
to her as I came up, was a very handsome and rather
singular-looking girl, fair, with alight golden-tinted hair;
and a countenance, though then grave enough, instinct with
a promise of animation and spirit not to be mistaken.
Could this be the heroine of the pending alliance? No;
I was mistaken. A third lady, at what would have been
an ordinary room's' length away, half-reclining on an ot-
toman, was now approached by Wylder, who presented me
to Miss Brandon.
"Dorcas, this is my old friend, Charles de Cresseron.
You have often heard me speak of him; and I want you
to shake hands and make his acquaintance, and draw him
out — do you see; for he's a shy youth, and must be en-
couraged.
The lady rose, in a soft floating way; tall, black-haired


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 15
•
— but a blackness with a dull rich shadow through it. I
had only a general impression of large dusky eyes and
very exquisite features — more delicate than the Grecian
models, and with a wonderful transparency, like tinted
marble; and a surperb haughtiness, quite unaffected. She
held forth her hand, which I did little more then touch.
There was a peculiarity in her greeting, which I felt a
little overawing, without exactly discovering in what it
consisted; and it was, I think, that she did not smile.
She never took that trouble for form's sake, like other
women.
So, as Wylder had set a chair for me. I could not avoid
sitting upon it, though I should much have preferred
standing, after the manner of man, and retaining my liberty.
CHAPTER III.
OUR DINNER PARTY AT BRANDON.
I WAS curious. I had heard a great deal of her beauty,
and it had exceeded all I heard; so I talked my sublimcst
and brightest chitchat, in my most musical tones, and was
rather engaging and amusing, I ventured to hope. But
the best man cannot manage a dialogue alone. Miss
Brandon was plainly not a person to make any sort of
exertion towards what is termed keeping up a conversation'
at all events she did not, and after a while the present one
got into a decidedly sinking condition. An acquiescence,
a faint expression of surprise, a fainter smile — she con-
tributed little more, after the first few questions of courtesy
had been asked, in her low silvery tones, and answered by
me. To me the natural demise of a tete-d-tefe discourse


16 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
9
has always seemed a disgrace. But this apathetic beau-
ty had either more moral courage or more stupidity than
I, and was plainly terribly indifferent about the catastro-
phe. I've sometimes thought my struggles and sinkings
amused her cruel serenity.
I told her my early recollections of Brandon and Gy-
lingden, and how I remembered her a baby, and said some
graceful trifles on that theme, which I fancied were likely
to please. But they were only received, and led to noth-
ing. In a little while in comes Lord Chelford, always
natural and pleasant, and quite unconscious of his peerage
— he was above it, I think —and chatted away merrily
with that handsome animated blonde—who on earth,
could she be ? — and did not seem the least chilled in the
stiff and frosted presence of his mother, but was genial and
playful even with that Spirit of the Frozen Ocean, who
received his affectionate trifling with a sort of smiling,
though wintry pride and complacency.
I thought I heard him call the young lady Miss Lake,
and there rose before me an image of an old General Lake,
and a dim recollection of some reverse of fortune. He was
— I was sure of that — connected with the Brandon fam-
ily; and was, with the usual fatality, a bit of a mauvais
snjet. He had made away with his children's money or
squandered his own; or somehow or another impoverished
his family not creditably. So I glanced at her, and Miss
Brandon divined, it seemed, what was passing in my
mind, for she said: —
"That is my cousin, Miss Lake, and I think her very
beautiful — don't you?"
"Yes, she certainly is very handsome," and I was go-
ing to say something about her animation and spirit, but
remembered, just in time, that that line of eulogy would
hardly have involved a compliment to Miss Brandon. "I


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 17
know her brother, a little — that is Captain Lake — Stan-
ley Lake; he's her brother, I fancy?"
"Oh?"' said the young lady, in that tone which is be-
tween a note of inquiry and of surprise. "Yes ; he's her
brother."
And she paused ; as if something more were expected.
But at that moment the bland tones of Larcom, the solemn
butler, announced the Rev. William Wylder and Mrs.
Wylder, and I said —
"William is an old college friend of mine;" and I
observed him, as he entered, with an affectionate and sad
sort of interest. Eight years had passed since we met last,
and that is something at any time. It had thinned my
simple friend's hair a little, and his face, too, was more
careworn than I liked, but his earnest, sweet smile was
there still. Slight, gentle, with something of a pale and
studious refinement in his face. The same gentle voice,
with that slight, occasional hesitation, which somehow I
liked.
And who was this little Mrs. William Wylder who
came in, so homely of feature, so radiant of good humor,
so eager and simple, in a very plain dress, leaning so pleas-
antly on his lean, long, clerical arm, and who looked round
with that anticipation of pleasure, and that simple con-
fidence in a real welcome, which are so likely to insure it?
Was she an helpmeet for a black-letter man, who talked
with the Fathers in his daily walks, could extemporise Latin
hexameters, and dream in Greek. Was she very wise, or at
all learned? I think her knowledge lay chiefly in the
matters of poultry, and puddings, and latterly, of the
nursery, where one treasure lay— a golden-haired little
boy, four years old. ,
When the Vicar, I dare say, in a very odd, quaint way,
made his proposal of marriage, moved thereto assuredly,


18 WYLDER'S HAJVD-
neither by fortune, nor by beauty, to good, merry, little
Miss Dorothy Chubley. whom nobody was supposed to be
looking after, and the town had, somehow, set down from
the first as a natural-born old maid—there was a very
general amazement; some disappointment here and there,
with customary sneers and compassion, and a good deal
of genuime amusement not ill-natured.
Misa Chubley, all the shopkeepers in the town knew
and liked, and, in a way, respected her, as "Miss Dolly."
Old Reverend John Chubley, D. D., who bad been in love
with his wife from the period of his boyhood; and yet so
grudging was Fate, had to undergo an engagement of nigh
thirty years before Hymen rewarded their constancy;
being at length made Vicar of Huddelston, and master of
church revenues to the amount of three hundred pounds a
year — had, at forty-five, married his early love, now
forty-two.
I remembered the Vicar, but more dimly than his mer-
ry little wife, though she went first. She made raisin-
wine, and those curious biscuits that tasted of Windsor
soap.
And this Mrs. Yftlliam Wylder just announced by soft-
toned' Larcom, is the daughter (there is no mistaking the
jolly smile and lumpy odd little features, and radiance of
amiability) of the good Doctor and Mrs. Chubley, so curi-
ously blended in her loving face. And last comes in old
Major.Jackson, smiling largely, squaring himself, and do-
ing his courtesies in a florid military style, and plainly
pleased to find himself in good company and on the eve
of a good dinner. And so our dinner-list is full.
The party were just nine — and it is wonderful what a
row nine well-behaved people will contrive to make at a
dinner-table. The inferior animals — as we see them
caged and cared for, and fed at one o'clock, in those public


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 19
institutions provided for their maintenance — confine their
uproar to the period immediately antecedent to their meal,
and perform the actual process of deglutition with silent
attention, and only such suckings, lappings, and crunchings,
as illustrate their industry and content. -It is the distinc-
tive privilege of man to exert his voice during his repast,
and to indulge also in those specially human cachinnations
which no lower creature, except that disreputable Aus-
tralian biped known as the " laughing jackass," presumes
to imitate; and to these vocal exercises of the feasters
respond the endless ring and tinkle of knife and fork on
china plate, and the ministering angels in white chokers
behind the chairs, those murmured solicitations which hum
round and round the ears of the revellers.
I don't know how it happened, but Wylder sat beside
Miss Lake. I fancied be ought to have been differently
placed, but Miss Brandon did not seem conscious of his
absence, and it seemed to me that the handsome blonde
would have been as well pleased if he had been anywhere
but where he was. There was no liking, though some
faint glimmerings both of annoyance and embarrassment in
her face. But in Wylder's I saw a sort of conceited con-
sciousness, and a certain eagerness, too, while he talked;
though a shrewd fellow in many ways, he had a secret
conviction that no woman could resist him.
"I suppose the world thinks me a very happy fellow,
Miss Lake?" he said, with a rather pensive glance of in-
quiry into that young lady's eyes, as he set down his
hock-glass.
"I'm afraid it's a selfish world, Mr. Wylder. and thinks
very little of what does not concern it.'"
"Now, you, I dare say," continued Wylder, not caring
to perceive the souppqn of sarcasm that modulated her
answer so musically, " look upon me as a very fortunate
fellow?"


20 WYLDER'S HJUfD.
"You are a very fortunate person, Mr. Wylder; a
gentleman of very moderate abilities, with no prospects,
and without fortune, who finds himself, without any de-
servings of his own, on a sudden, possessed of an estate,
and about to bo united to the most beautiful heiress in
England, is, I think, rather a fortunate person."
"You did not always think me so stupid, Miss Lake,"
said Mr. Wylder, showing something of the hectic of
vexation.
"Stupid! did I say? Well, you know, we learn by
experience, Mr. Wylder. One's judgment matures, and
we are harder to please — don't you think so ? — as we
grow older."
"Aye, so we are, I dare say; at any rate, some things
don't please us as we calculated. I remember when this
bit of luck would have made me a devilish happy fellow
— twice as happy; but, you see, if a fellow hasn't his
liberty, where's the good of money? I don't know how I
got into it, but I can't get away now; and the lawyer
fellows, and trustees, and all that sort of prudent people,
get about one, and persuade, and exhort, and they bully
you, by Jove! into what they call a marriage of con-
venience — I forget the French word — you know; and
then, you see, your feelings may be very different, and all
that; and where's the good of money, I say, if you can't
enjoy it?"
And Mr. Wylder looked poetically unhappy, and trun
died over a little bit of fricandeau on his plate with his fork,
desolately, as though earthly things had lost their relish.
"Yes; I think I know the feeling," said Miss Lake,
quietly. "That ballad, you know, expresses it very
prettily :— " Oh, thou hast been the cause of this anguish,
my mother ?;"
Wylder looked sharply at her, but she did not smile,


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 21
and seemed to speak in good faith; and being somewhat
thick in some matters, though a cunning fellow, he
said —
"Yes; that is the sort of thing, you know — of course,
with a difference — a girl is supposed to speak there; but
iiiai suffer that way, too — though, of course, very likely
it's more their own fault."
"It is very sad," said Misa Lake, who was busy with a
"She has no life in her; she's a mere figurehead ; she's
awfully slow; I don't like black hair; I'm taken by con-
versation — and all that. There are some men that can
only really love once in their lives, and never forget their
first love, I assure you."
Wylder murmured all this, and looked as plaintive as
he could without exciting the attention of the people
over-the-way.
Mark Wylder had, as you perceive, rather vague notions
of decency, and not much experience of ladies; and
thought he was making just the interesting impression he
meditated. He was a good deal surprised, then, when
Miss Lake said, and with quite a cheerful countenance, and
very quickly, but so that his words stung his ear like the
prick of a bodkin.
"Your way of speaking of my cousin, sir, is in the
highest degree discreditable to you and offensive to me,
and should you venture to repeat it, I will certainly men-
tion it to Lady Chelford."
And so she turned to old Major Jackson at her right,
who had been expounding a point of the battle of Vittoria'
to Lord Chelford; and she led him again into action, and
acquired during the next ten minutes a great deal of cu-
rious lore about Spanish muleteers and French prisoners,
together with some particulars about the nature of picket
duty, and " that scoundrel, Castanos."


CHAPTER IV.
IN WHICH WE GO TO THE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE
PARTY BREAKS UP.
Wylder was surprised, puzzled, and a good deal in-
censed — that saucy craft had fired her shot so unexpec-
tedly across his bows. He looked a little flushed, and
darted a stealthy glance across the table, but no one he
thought had observed the manoeuvre. He would have
talked to ugly Mrs. W. Wylder, his sister-in-law, at his
left, but she was entertaining Lord Chelford now. He
had nothing for it but to perform cavalier seul with his
slice of mutton. He would have liked, at that moment,
a walk upon the quarter-deck, with a good head-wind
blowing, and liberty to curse and swear a bit over the
bulwark. Women are so full of caprice and hypocrisy,
and " humbugging impudence!"
Wylder was rather surly after the ladies had floated
away from the scene, and he drank his liquor dogged-
ly. It was his fancy, I suppose, to revive certain senti-
mental relations which had, it may be, once existed be-
tween him and Miss Lake; and he was a person of that
combative temperament that magnifies an object in pro-
portion as its pursuit is thwarted.
In the drawing-room he watched Miss Lake over his
cup of coffee, and after a few words to his fiancee he
lounged toward the table at which she was turning over
some prints.
"Do come here, Dorothy," she exclaimed, not raising
her eyes, " I have found the very thing."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 23
"What thing? my dear Miss Lake," said that good lit-
tle woman, skipping to her side.
"The story of "Fridolin," and Retzch's pretty out-
lines. Sit down beside me, and I'll tell you the story."
"Oh !" said the Vicar's wife, taking her seat, and the
inspection and exposition began; and Mark Wylder, who
who had intended renewing his talk with Miss Lake, saw
that she had foiled him, and stood with a heightened col-
or and his hands in his pockets, looking confoundedly
cross and very like an outcast, in the shadow behind.
After a while, in a pet, he walked away. Lord Chel-
ford had joined the two ladies, and had something to say
about German art, and some pleasant lights to throw from
foreign travel and devious reading, and was as usual in-
telligent and agreeable; and Mark was still more sore
and angry, and strutted away to another table, a long way
off, and tossed over the leaves of a folio of Wouvermans'
works, and did not see one of the plates he stared at so
savagely.
Then he joined a conversation going on between Dor-
cas Brandon and the Vicar, hisJbrother. He assisted at it,
but took no part, and in fact was listening to that other
conversation which sounded, with its pleasant gabble and
laughter, like a little musical tinkle of bells in the distance.
His gall rose, and that distant talk rang in his ears like a
cool but intangible insult.
It was dull work. He looked at his watch — tho
brougham would be at the door to take Miss Lake home
hi a quarter of an hour; so he glided through a second
drawing-room, and into tho hall, where he saw Larcom's
expansive white waistcoat, and disregarded his advance and
respectful inclination, and strode into the outer hall or
vestibule, where were hat-stands, walking-sticks*, great
coats, umbrellas, and the exuviae of gentlemen.


24 HOLDER'S HAJVD.
Mark clapped on his hat, and rifled the pocket of his
paletot of his cigar-case and matches, and spluttered a
curse or two, according to old Nollekens' receipt for easing
the mind, and on the door-steps lighted his cheroot, and
became gradually more philosophical.
In due time the brougham came round with its lamps
lighted, and Mark, who was by this time placid, greeted
Price on the box familiarly, after his wont, and asked
him whom he was going to drive, as if he did not know,
cunning fellow; and actually went so far as to give Price
one of those cheap and nasty weeds, of which he kept a
supply apart in his case for such occasions of good fellow-
ship.
So Mark waited to put the lady into the carriage, and
he meditated walking a little way by the window and making
his peace, and there was perhaps some vague vision of
jumping in afterwards; I know not. Mark's ideas of
ladies and of propriety were low, and he was little better
than a sailor ashore, and not a good specimen of that class
of monster.
He walked about the courtyard smoking, looking some-
times on the solemn front of the old palatial mansion, and
sometimes breathing a white film up to the stairs. But
honest Mark forgot that young ladies do not always
come out quite alone, and jump unassisted into their
vehicles. And in fact not only did Lord Chelford assist
the fair lady, cloaked and hooded, into the carriage, but
the vicar's good-humoured little wife was handed in also,
the good Vicar looking on, and as the gay good-night and
leave-taking took place by the door-steps, Mark drew back,
like a guilty thing, in silence, and showed no sign but the
red top of his cigar, glowing like the eye of a Cyclops in
the dark; and away rolled the brougham, with the two
ladies, and Chelford and the Vicar went in, and Mark


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 25
hurled the stump of his cheroot at Fortune, and delivered
a fragmentary soliloquy through his teeth; and so, in a
sulk, without making his adieux, he marched off to his
crib at the Brandon Arms.
CHAPTER V.
IN WHICH MY SLUMBER IS DISTURBED.
The ladies had accomplished their ascension to the up-
per regions. The good Vicar had marched off with the
Major, who was by this time unbuckling in his lodgings;
and Chelford and I, t&te-d-tete, had a glass of sherry and
water together in the drawing-room before parting. And
over this temperate beverage I told him frankly the nature
of the service which Mark Wylder wished me to render
him; and he as frankly approved, and said he would ask
Larkin, the family lawyer, to come up in the morning to
assist.
The more I saw of this modest, refined, and manly peer,
the more I liked him. There was a certain courteous
frankness, and a fine old English sense of duty perceptible
in all his serious talk. So I felt no longer like a conspira-
tor, and was to offer such advice as might seem expedient,
with the clear approbation of Miss Brandon's trustee. And
this point clearly settled, I avowed myself a little tired; and
lighting our candles at the foot of the stairs, we scaled that
long ascent together, and he conducted me through the in-
tricacies of the devious lobbies up stairs to my chamber-door,
where he bid me good-night, shook hands, and descended
to his own quarters.
2


£g WYLDER'S HAJVD.
My room was large and old-fashioned, but snug; and
I, beginning to grow very drowsy, was not long in getting
to bed, where I fell asleep indescribably quickly. In all
old houses one is of course liable to adventures. There
was a picture in the outer hall — one of those full-length
gentlemen of George II.'s time, with a dark peruke flow-
ing on his shoulders, a cut velvet coat, and lace cravat and
ruffles. This picture was pale, and had a long chin, and
somehow had impressed my boyhood with a singular sense
of fear. The foot of my bed lay towards the window, dis-
tant at least five-and-twenty feet; and before the window
stood my dressing-table, and on it a large looking-glass.
I dreamed that I was arranging my toilet before this
glass —ju8t as I had done that evening — when on a sud-
den the face of the portrait I have mentioned was present-
ed on its surface, confronting me liko a real countenance,
and advancing towards me with a look of fury; and at the
instant I felt myself seized by the throat and unable to stir
or to breathe. After a struggle with this infernal garotter,
I succeeded in awaking myself; and as I did so, I felt a
rather cold hand really resting on my throat, and quietly
passed up over my chin and face. I jumped out of bed
with a roar, and challenged the owner of the hand, but re-
ceived no answer, and heard no sound. I poked up my
fire and lighted my candle. Everything was as I had left
it except the door, which was the least bit open.
In my shirt, candle in hand, I looked out into the pas-
age. There was nothing there in human shape, but in the
direction of the stairs the green eyes of a large cat were
shining. I was so nervous that even "a harmless, neces-
sary cat" appalled me, and I clapped my door, as if
against an evil spirit.
In about half an hour's time, however, I had quite
worked off the effect of this nightmare, and reasoned my-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 27
self into the natural solution that the creature had got on
my bed, and lay, as I have been told they will, upon my
throat, and so, all the rest had followed.
Not being given to the fear of, larvae, and lemures, and
also knowing that a mistake is easily committed in a great
house like that, and that my visitor might have made one,
I grew drowsy in a little while, and soon fell asleep again.
In the morning Mark Wylder was early upon the
ground. He had quite slept off what he would have called
the nonsense of last night, and was very keen upon settle-
ments, consols, mortgages, jointures, and all that dry but
momentous lore.
I find a note in my diary of that day: — " From half-
past ten o'clock until two with Mark Wylder and Mr. Lar-
kin, the lawyer, in the study — dull work — over papers
and title— Lord Chelford with us now and then to lend
a helping hand."
Lawyer Larkin, though he made our work lighter —
did not make our business, to me at least, any plcasanter.
Wylder thought him a clever man; Lord Chelford, a most
honorable one; yet there came to me by instinct an un-
pleasant feeling about him. It was not in any defined way
— I did not fancy that he was machinating, for instance,
any sort of mischief in the business before us — but I had
a notion that he was not quite what he pretended.
Perhaps his personnel prejudiced me — though I could
not quite say why. He was a tall, lank man—rather
long of limb, long of head, and gaunt of face. He wanted
teeth at both sides, and there was rather a skull-like cavi-
ty when he smiled — which was pretty often. His eyes
were small and reddish, as if accustomed to cry; and
when everything went smoothly were dull and dove-like,
but when things crossed or excited him, which occurred
when his own pocket or plans were concerned, they grew


28 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
singularly unpleasant, and greatly resembled those of
some not amiable animal — was it a rat, or a serpent?
I might be all in the wrong — and was, no doubt, un-
reasonable — for he bore a high character, and passed for
a very gentlemanlike man among the villagers. He was
also something of a religious light, and had for a time con-
formed to Methodism, but returned to the Church. He
had a liking for long sermons, and a sad abhorrence of
amusements, and sat out the morning and the evening ser-
vices regularly — and kept up his dissenting connection
too, and gave them money — and appeared in print, in all
charitable lists — and mourned over other men's back-
slidings and calamities in a lofty and Christian way, shak-
ing his tall, bald head, and turning up his pink eyes
mildly.
Notwitstanding all which he was somehow unlovely in
my eyes, and in an indistinct way, formidable. It waa
not a pleasant misgiving about a gentleman of Larkin's
species, the family lawyer, who become viscera inagno-
rum domum.
CHAPTER VI.
IN WHICH DORCAS BRANDON SPEAKS.
In answer to " the roaring shiver of the gong" we all
trooped away to luncheon. Lady Chelford and Dorcas
and Chelford had nearly ended that irregular repast when
we entered. My chair was beside Miss Brandon; she
had breakfasted with old Lady Chelford that morning, and
this was my first meeting that day. It was not very en-
couraging.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 29
People complained that acquaintance made little way
•with her. That you were, perhaps, well satisfied with your
first day's progress, but the next made no head-way; you
found yourself this morning exactly at the point from
which you commenced yesterday, and to-morrow would re-
commence where you started the day before. This is
very disappointing, but may sometimes be accounted for
by there being nothing really to discover. It seemed to
me, however, that the distance had positively increased
since yesterday, and that the oftener she met me the more
strange she became. If Dorcas Brandon had been a plain
woman, I think she would have been voted an impertinent
bore ; but she was so beautiful that she became an enigma.
I looked at her as she stood gravely gazing from the win-
dow. Is it Lady Macbeth? No; she never would have
had energy to plan her husband's career and manage that
affair of Duncan. A sultana rather — sublimely egotisti-
cal, without reverence — a voluptuous and haughty embo-
diment of indifference. I paused, looking at a picture, but
thinking of her, and was surprised by her voice very near
me.
"Will you give me just a minute Mr. De Cresseron,
in the drawing-room, while I show you a miniature? I
want your opinion."
So she floated on and I accompanied her. "I think,"
she said, "you mentioned yesterday, that you remembered
me when an infant. You remember my poor mamma,
don't you, very well?"
This was the first time she had yet shown any tenden-
cy, so far as I had seen, to be interested in anything, or to
talk to me. I seized the occasiojt'• and gave her, as well
as I could, the sad and pretty picture that remained, and
always will, in the vacant air, when I think of her, on the
mysterious retina of memory.


80 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
On a cabinet near to where she stood was a casket of
ormolu, which she unlocked, and took out a miniature,
opened, and looked at it for a long time. I knew very
well whose it was, and watched her countenance; for, she
interested me strangely. I suppose she knew I was look-
ing at her; but she showed always a queenlike indiffer-
ence about what people might think or observe. There-
was no sentimental softening; but her gaze was such as
I once saw the same proud and handsome face turn upon
the.dead — pale, exquisite, perhaps a little stern. What
she read there — what procession of thoughts and images
passed by — threw neither light nor shadow on her face.
Its apathy interested me inscrutably.
At last she placed the picture in my hand, and asked,
"Is this really very like her?" \
"It is, and it is not" I said, after a little pause. "The
features are true: it is what I call an accurate portrait,
but that is all, I dare say, exact as it is, it would give to
one who had not seen her a false, as it must an inade-
quate, idea of the orignal. There is something naive and
spirituel, and very tender in her face, which he has not
caught — perhaps it could hardly be fixed in colors."
"Yes. I always heard, her expression and intelligence
were very beautiful. It was ihe beauty o.f mobility —
true beauty."
"There is a beauty of another stamp, equally exquisite,
Miss Brandon, and perhaps more Overpowering." I said
this in nearly a whisper, and in a very marked way,
almost tender, and the next moment was amazed at my
own audacity. She looked on me for a second or two, with
her dark drowsy look, and then it returned to the picture,
which was again in her hand. There was a total want of
interest in the careless sort of surprise she vouchsafed my
little sally; neither was there the slightest resentment
.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 31
I was ridiculously annoyed with myself. The position of
a shy man, who has just made an unintelligible joke at a
dinner-table, was not more pregnant with self-reproach
and embarrassment.
Upon my honor, I don't think there was anything of
the rou6 in me. I own I did feel towards this lady, who
seemed to me so singular, a mysterious interest just begin-
ning— of that peculiar kind which becomes at last terribly
absorbing. I was more elated by her trifling notice of me
than I can quite account for. I think if she had listened
to me with even the faintest intimation of caring whether
I spoke in this tone or not, with even a flash of momenta-
ry resentment, I might have rushed into a most reprehen-
sible and ridiculous rigmarole. But she was looking, just
as before, at the miniature, as it seemed to me, in fancy
infusing some of the spirit I had described into the artist's
record, and she said, only iu soliloquy, as it were, "Yes,
I see — I think I see."
So there was a pause; and then she said, without re-
moving her eyes from the miniature, " You are, I believe,
Mr. De Cresseron, a very old friend of Mr. Wylder's.
Is it not so?"
So soon after my little escapade, I did not like the
question; but it was answered. There was not the faint-
est trace of a satirical meaning, however, in her face; and
after another very considerable interval, at the end of which
she shut the miniature in its case, she said, "It was a
peculiar face, and very beautiful. It is odd how many of
our family married for love — wild love-matches. My
poor mother was the last. I could point you out many
pictures, and tell you stories—my cousin, Rachel, knows
them all. You know Rachel Lake?"
"I've not the honor of knowing Miss Lake. I had
not an opportunity of making her acquaintance yesterday;
but I know her brother — so does Wylder."


32 WYLDER'8 HAJVD.
"What's that?" said Mark, who had just come in, and
was tumbling over a volume of "Punch," at the win-
dow.
"I was telling Miss Brandon that we both know Stanley
Lake." On hearing which, Wylder seemed to discover
something uncommonly interesting or clever in the illus-
tration before him; for he approached his face very near
to it, in a scrutinising way, and only said, "Oh?"
"That marrying for love was a fatality in our family,"
she continued, in the same low tone — too faint, I think,
to reach Mark. "They were all the most beautiful who
sacrificed themselves so — they were all unhappy mar-
riages. So the beauty of our family never availed it, any
more than its talents and its courage; for there were clever
and witty men, as well as very brave ones, in it. Meaner
houses have grown up into dukedoms; ours never prospers.
I wonder what it is."
"Many families have disappeared altogether, Miss
Brandon. Itis no small thing, through so many centuries,
to have retained your ancestral estates, and your preemi-
nent position, and even this splendid residence of so many
generations of your lineage."
I thought that Miss Brandon, having broken the ice,
was henceforth to be a conversable young lady. But this
sudden expansion was not to last. Ovid tells us, in his
"Fasti," how statues sometimes surprised people by speak-
ing more frankly and to the purpose even than Miss
Brandon, and straight were cold chiselled marble again;
and so it was with that proud, cold chef-d'oeuvre of tinted
statuary.
The Princess by this time was seated on the ottoman,
and chose to read a letter, thus intimating, I suppose, that
my audience was at an end; so I took up a book, put it
down, and then went and looked over Wylder's shoulder,


WYLDER'S'HAJVD. 33
and made my criticisms — not very novel, I fear— upon
the pages he turned over; and I am sorry to say I don't
think he heard much of what I was saying, for he sudden-
ly came out with —
"And where is Stanley Lake now, do you know?"
"I saw him in town — only for a moment though —
about a fortnight ago; he was arranging, he said, about
selling out."
"Oh! retiring; and what does he propose doing
then?" asked Wylder, without raising his eyes from his
book. He spoke in a sort of undertone, like a man who
does not want to be overheard.
"I have not an idea. I don't think he's fit for many
things. He knows something of horses, I believe, and
something of play."
"But he'll hardly make out a living that way," said
Wylder, with a sort of sneer or laugh.
"I fancy he has enough to live upon, without adding
to it, however," I said.
Wylder leaned back in his low chair, with his hands
stuffed in his pockets, and the air of a man trying to look
unconcerned, but both annoyed and disconcerted neverthe-
less.
"I tell you what, Charlie, between you and me, that
fellow, Stanley, is a d—d bad lot. I may be mistaken,
of course; he's always been very civil to me. but we don't
like one another; and I don't think I ever heard him say
a good word of any one; I dare say he abuses you and
me, as he does every one else."
"Does he?" I said. "I was not aware he had that
failing."
"Oh, yes. He does not stick at trifles, Master Stanley.
He's about the greatest liar, I think, I ever met with,"
and he laughed angrily.
2»


54 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
I happened at that moment to raise my eyes, and I saw
Dorcas's face reflected in the mirror; her back was to-
wards us, and she held the letter in her hand as if reading
it, but her large eyes were looking over it, and on ua, in
the glass, with a gaze of strange curiosity. Our glances
met in the mirror; but her's remained serenely undis-
turbed, and mine dropped and turned away hastily. I
wonder whether she heard us. I do not know. Some
people are miraculously sharp of hearing.
Wylder was leaning on his elbow, with just the tip of
his thumb to his teeth, with a vicious character of biting
it, which was peculiar to him when anything vexed him
considerably, and glancing sharply this way and that —
"You know," he said, suddenly, "we are a sort of
cousins; his mother was a Brandon — a second cousin of
Dorcas's — no, of her father's — I don't know exactly
how. He's a pushing fellow, one of the coolest hands I
know; but I don't see that I can be of any use to him, or
why the devil I should. I say, old fellow, come out and
have a weed, will you?"
I raised my eyes. Miss Brandon had left the room.
I don't know that her presence would have prevented his
invitation, for Wylder's wooing -was certainly of the cool-
est. So forth we sallied, and under the autumnal foliage,
in the cool amber light of the declining evening, we en-
joyed our cheroots; and with them, Wylder his thoughts;
and I, the landscape and the whistling of the birds; for
we waxed Turkish and taciturn over our tobacco.


CHAPTER VII.
RELATING HOW A LONDON GENTLEMAN APPEARED IS
REDMAN'S DELL.
THERE is, near the Hall, a pretty glen, called Redman's
Dell, very steep, with a stream running at the bottom of
it, but so thickly wooded that in summer you can only
now and' then catch a glimpse of the water gliding beneath
you. Deep in this picturesque ravine, buried among the
shadows of tall old trees, runs the narrow mill-road,
which lower down debouches on the end of the village
street. There, in the transparent green shadow, stand
the two mills—the old one with A. D. 1679, and the
Wylder arms, and the eternal "resurgam" projecting
over its doors; and higher up, on a sort of platform, the
steep bank rising high behind it, with its towering old
wood overhanging and surrounding, stands an old and small
two-storied brick and timber house; and though the sun
does not often glimmer on its windows, it possesses an air
of sad, old-world comfort — a little flower-garden lies in
front, with a paling round it. But not every kind of flowers
will grow there, under the lordly shadow of the elms and
chestnuts.
This sequestered tenement bears the name of Redman's
Farm; and its occupant was that Miss Lake whom I had
met last night at Brandon Hall, and whose pleasure it was
to live here in independent isolation.
There she is now, busy in her tiny garden, with the
birds twittering about her, and the yellow leaves falling;
and her thick gauntlets on her slender hands. This young
lady's little Eden, though encompassed with the solemn


36 WYLDER'S
sylvan cloister of nature's building, and vocal with sounds
of innocence — the songs of birds, aml sometimes tiiuse of
its young mistress — was no more proof than the Meso-
potamian haunt of our first parents against the intrusion
of darker spirits. So, as she worked, she lifted up her
eyes, and beheld a rather handsome young man standing
at the little wicket of her garden, with his gloved hand
on the latch. A man of fashion—a town man—his
dress bespoke him: smooth cheeks, light brown curling
moustache, and eyes peculiar both in shape and color,
and something of elegance of finish in his other features,
and of general grace in the coup d' aeil, struck one at a
glance. He was smiling silently and slily on Rachel,
who, with a little cry of surprise, said —
"Oh, Stanley! is it you?"
And before he could answer, she had thrown her arms
about his neck and kissed him two or three times.
Laughingly, half-resisting, the young man waited till her
enthusiastic salutation was over, and with one gloved hand
caressingly on her shoulder, and with the other smoothing
his ruffled moustache, he laughed a little more, a quiet
low laugh.
"Yes, Radie, you see I've found you out;" and his
eye wandered, still smiling oddly, over the front of her
quaint habitation.
"And how have you been, Radie?"
"Oh, very well. No life like a gardener's — early
hours, work, air, and plenty of quiet." And the young
lady laughed.
"And what do you call this place?"
"'The Happy Valley,' /call it. Don't you remem-
ber ' Rasselas ?'"
"No," he said, looking round him; "I don't think I
was ever there."


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 37
"You horrid dunce! — it's a book, but a stupid one
— so no matter," laughed Miss Rachel, giving him a lit-
tle slap on the shoulder with her slender fingers.
"It's a confounded deal more like the ' Valley of the
Shadow of Death, in Pilgrim's Progress' — you remem-
ber— that old Tamar used to read to us in the nursery,"
replied Master Stanley, who had never enjoyed being
quizzed by his sister.
"If you don't like my scenery, come in, Stanley, and
admire my decorations. You must tell me all the news,
and I'll show you my house, and amaze you with my
house-keeping. Dear me how long it is since I've seen
yon."
So she led him in by the arm to her tiny drawing-
room; and he laid his hat and stick, and grey paletot, on
her little marquetrie-table, and sat down, and looked lan-
guidly about him, with a sly smile, like a man amused.
"You are very oddly housed, Radie."
"I like it," she said quietly, also with a glance round
her homely drawing-room.
"What do you call this, your boudoir or parlor?"
"I call it my drawing-room, but i'ts anything you
please."
"What very odd people our ancestors were," he mused
on. "They lived, I suppose, out of doors like the cows,
and only came into their sheds at night, when they could
not see the absurd ugliness of the places they inhabited.
Lots of rats, I fancy, Radie, behind that wainscoting?
What's that horrid work of art against the wall?"
"A shell-work cabinet, dear. It is not beautiful I al-
low. If I were strong enough, or poor old Tamar, I
should have put it away; and now that you are here,
Stanley, I think I'll make you carry it out to the lobby
for me."


38 WVLDER'S HAJVD.
"I should not like to touch it, dear Radie. And pray
how do you amuse yourself here? How on earth do you
get over the day, and, worse still, the evenings?"
"Very well — well enough. I make a very good sort
of a nun, and a capital housemaid. I work in the gar-
den, I mend my dresses, I drink tea, and when I choose
to be dissipated. I play and sing for old Tamar — why did
not you ask how she is? I do believe, Stanley, you care
for no one, but" (she was going to say yourself, she said
instead, however, but) "perhaps, the least in the world
for me, and that not very wisely,'' she continued, a little
fiercely, "for from the moment you saw me, you've done
little else than try to disgust me more than I am with my
penury and solitude. What do you mean? You always
have a purpose—will you ever learn to be frank and
straightforward, and speak plainly to those whom you
ought to trust, if not to love? What are you driving at,
Stanley?"
He looked up with a gentle start, like one recovering
from a reverie, and said, with his yellow eyes fixed for a
moment on his sister, before they dropped again to the
carpet,
"You're miserably poor, Rachel: upon my word, I
believe you haven't clear two hundred a year. I'll drink
some tea, please, if you have got any, and it isn't too much
trouble; and it strikes me as very curious you like living
in this really very humiliating state."
"I don't intend to go out for a governess, if that's what
you mean; nor is there any privation in living as I do.
Perhaps you think I ought to go and housekeep for you."
"Why — ha, ha ! — I really don't know, Radie, where I
shall be. I'm not of any regiment now."
"Why, you have not sold out?" She flushed and
suddenly grew pale, for she was afraid something worse


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 39
might have happened, having no great confidence in her
brother.
"I have sold my commission."
She looked straight at him with large eyes and compress-
ed lips and nodded her head two or three times, just mur-
muring, "Well! well! well!"
"Women never understand these things. The army ia
awfully expensive — I mean, of course, a regiment like
ours; and the interest of money is better to me than my
pay; and see, Rachel, there's no use in lecturing me — so
don't let us qnarrel. We're not very rich, you and I;
and we each know our own affairs, you yours, and I mine,
best."
There was something by no means pleasant in his coun-
tenance when his temper was stirred, and a little thing
sometimes sufficed to do so. Rachel treated him with a
sort of deference, a little contemptuous perhaps, such as
spoiled children receive from indulgent elders; and she
looked at him steadily, with a faint smile and arched brows,
for a little while, and an undefinable expression of puzzle,
and curiosity.
"You are a very amusing brother — if not a very
chary or a very useful one, Stanley."
She opened the door, and called across the little hall
into the homely kitchen of the mansion.
"Tamar, dear, Master Stanley's here, and wishes to see
you."
"Oh! yes, poor dear old Tamar; ha, ha!" says the
gentleman, with a gentle little laugh, "I suppose she's as
frightful as ever, that worthy woman. Certainly she is
awfully like a ghost. I wonder, Radie, you're not afraid
of her at night in this cheerful habitation. / should, I
know."
And just then old Tamar opened the door. I must al-


WYLDER'S HAjVD. 41
has got an estate and a house, and it is time he should
marry you."
**Mark Wylder is here to marry my cousin, Dorcas;
and if he had no such intention, and were as free as you
are, and again to urge his foolish suit upon his knees,
Stanley, I would die rather than accept him."
"It was not always so foolish a suit, Radio," answered
her brother, his eyes once more upon the carpet. "Why
should not he do as well as another? You liked him
well enough once.'
The young lady• colored rather fiercely.
"I am not a girl of seventeen now, Stanley; and —
and, besides, I hate him."
"What d—d nonsense! I really beg your pardon,
Radio, but it is precious stuff. You are quite unreason-
able; you've no cause to 'hate him; he dropped you be-
cause you dropped him. It was only prudent; he had
not a guinea. But now it is different, and he must mar-
ry you."
The young lady stared with a haughty amazement upon
her brother.
"I've made up my mind to speak to him; and if he
won't I promise you he shall leave the country," said the
young man gently, just lifting his yellow eyes for a second
with another unpleasant glare.
"I almost think you're mad, Stanley; and if you do
anything so insane, sure I am you'll rue it while you live;
and wherever he is I'll find him'out, and acquit myself,
with the scorn I owe him, of any share in a plot so un-
speakably mean and absurd."
"Brava, brava! you're a heroime, Radio; and why
the devil," he continued, in a changed tone, "do you ap-
ply those insolent terms to what 1 purpose doing?"
"I wish I could find words strong enough to express


£2 WYLDER'S HAJTD.
my horror of your plot —a plot every way disgusting.
You plainly know something to Mark Wylder's discredit;
and you mean, Stanley, to coerce him by fear into a mar-
riage with your penniless sister, who hates him. Give
up every idea of it this moment. lias it not struck you
that Mark Wylder may possibly know something of you,
you would not have published?"
"I don't think he does. What do you mean?"
"On my life, Stanley, I'll acquaint Mr. Wylder this
evening with what you meditate, and the atrocious liber-
ty you presume to take with my name—unless you
promise, upon your honor, now and here, to dismiss for
ever the odious and utterly resultless scheme."
Captain Lake looked very angry after his fashion, but
said nothing. He could not at any time have very well
defined his feelings toward his sister, but mingling in
them, certainly, was a vein of unacknowledged dread,
and, shall I say, respect. He knew she was resolute,
fierce of will, and prompt in action, and not to be bullied.
"There's more in this, Stanley, than you care to tell
me. You have not troubled yourself a great deal about
me, you know; and I'm no worse off now than any time
for the last three years. You've not come down here
on my account — that is, altogether; and be your plans
what they may, you shan't mix my name in them; and
I tell you again, Stanley, unless you promise, upon your
honor, to forbear all mention of my name, I will write
this evening to Lady Chelford, apprising her of your
plans, and of my own disgust and indignation; and re-
questing her son's interference. Do you promise?"
"There's no such haste, Radie. I only mentioned it.
If you don't like it, of course it can lead to nothing, and
there's no use in my speaking to Wylder, and so there's
an end of it."


WYLDER'8 HAJVD. 43
"There wiaybe some use, a purpose in which neither
my feelings nor interests have any part. I venture to say,
Stanley, .your plans are all for yow.self. You want to
extort some advantage from Wylder; and you think, in
his present situation, about to marry Dorcas, you can use
me for the purpose. Thank Heaven! sir, you committed
for once the rare indiscretion of telling the truth; and .
unless you make me the promise I require, I will take,
before evening, such measures as will completely excul-
pate me. Once again, do you promise?"
"Yes, Radio; ha, ha! of course I promise."
"Upon your honor?"
"Upon my honor — there."
"I believe, you gentlemen dragoons observe that oath
— I hope so. If you choose to break it you may give me
some trouble, but you shan't compromise me. And now,
Stanley, one word more. I fancy Mr. Wylder is a reso-
lute man —none of the Wylders wanted courage."
Captain Lake was by this time smiling his sly, sleepy
smile upon his French boots.
"If you have formed any plan which depends upon
frightening him, it is a desperate one. All I can tell you,
Stanley, is this, that if I were a man, andjin attempt made
to extort from me any sort of concession by terror, I would
shoot the miscreant who made it through the head, like a
highwayman."
"What the devil are you talking about?'" said he.
"About your danger" she answered. "For once in
your life listen to reason. Mark Wylder is as prompt as
you, and has ten times your nerve and sense; you are more
likely to have committed yourself than he. Take care;
he may retaliate your threat by a counter move more
dreadful. I know nothing of your doings, Stanley —
Heaven forbid! but be warned, or you'll rue it."


44 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Why, Radie, you know nothing of the world. Do
you suppose I'm quite demented? Ask a gentleman for
his estate, or his watch, because I know something to his
disadvantage! Why, ha, ha! dear Radie, every man who
has ever been on terms of intimacy with another must know
things to his disadvantage, but no one thinks of telling
them. I don't affect to be angry, or talk romance and
heroics, because you fancy such stuff; but I assure you
— when will that old woman give me a cup of tea ? — I
assure you, Radie, there's nothing in it."
Rachel made no reply, but she looked steadfastly and
uneasily upon the enigmatical face and downcast eyes of
the young man.
"Well, I hope so," she said at last, with a sigh, and a
slight sense of relief.
CHAPTER VIII.
IN WHICH CAPTAIN LAKE TAKES HIS HAT AND STICK.
So the young people sitting in the little drawing-room
of Redman's farm pursued their dialogue; Rachel Lake
had spoken last, and it was the Captain's turn to speak
next.
"Do you remember Miss Beauchamp, Radie?" he
asked, rather suddenly, after a very long pause.
"Miss Beauchamp? Oh! to be sure; you mean little
Caroline; yes, she must be quite grown up by this time
— five years — she promised to be pretty. What of
her?"


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 45
Rachel, very flushed and agitated still, was now trying
to speak as usual.
"She is good-looking — a little coarse some people
think," resumed the young man; "but handsome; black
eyes — black hair— rather on a large scale, but certainly
handsome. A style I admire rather, though it is not very
refined, nor at all classic. But I like her, and I wish
you'd advise me." He was talking, after his wont, to the
carpet.
"Oh?" she exclaimed, with a gentle sort of derision.
"You mean," he said, looking up for a moment, with a
sudden stare, " she has got money. Of course she has:
I could not afford to admire her if she had not; but I see
you are not just now in a mood to trouble yourself about
my nonsense — we can talk about it to-morrow; and tell
me now, how do you get on with the Brandon peo-
ple?"
Rachel was curious, and would, if she could, have re-
called that sarcastic "oh" which had postponed the story;
but she was also a little angry, and with anger there was
pride, which would not stoop to ask for the revelation
which he chose to defer; so she said, '' Dorcas and I are
very good friends; but I don't know very well what to
make of her. She is either absolutely uninteresting, or
very interesting indeed, and I can't say which."
"Does she like you?" he asked.
'' I really don't know. She tolerates me, like every-
thing else; and I don't flatter her; and we see a good deal
of one another upon those terms, and I have no complaint
to make of her. She has some aversions, but no quarrels;
and has a sort of laziness — mental, bodily, and moral —
that is sublime, but provoking; and sometimes I admire
her, and sometimes I despise her; and I do not yet know
which feeling is the juster."


46 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Surely she is woman enough to be fussed a little about
her marriage?"
"Oh, dear, no! she takes tho whole affair with a queen-
like and supernatural indifference. She is either a fool or
a very great philosopher, and there is something grand in
the serene obscurity that envelopes her," and Rachel
laughed a very little.
"I must, I suppose, pay my respects; but to-morrow
will be time enough."
Old Tamar had glided in While they were talking, and
placed the little tea equipage on the table unnoticed, and
the captain was sipping his cup of tea, and inspecting the
pattern, while his sister amused him.
"This place, I suppose, is confoundedly slow, is not it?
Do they entertain the neighbors ever at Brandon?"
"Sometimes, when old Lady Chelford and her son are
staying there."
"But the neighbors can't entertain them, I fancy, or'
you. What a dreary thing a dinner party made up of such
people must be — like " JEsop's Fables," where the cows
and sheep converse.
"And sometimes a wolf or a fox,'' she said.
"Well, Radie, I know you mean me; but as you wish it,
I'll carry my fangs elsewhere;— and what has become of
Will Wylder?"
"Oh! he's in the Church!"
"Quite right — the only thing he was fit for;" and
Captain Lake laughed like a man who enjoys a joke slily.
"And where is poor Billy quartered?"
"Not quite half a mile away; he has got the vicarage
of Naunton Friars."
"Oh, then, Will is not quite such a fool as we took him
for."
"It is worth just £180 a year; but he's very far
from a fool."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 47
"Yes, of course, he knows Greek poets and Latin fa-
thers, and all the rest of it. I dare say he's the kind of
fellow you'd like very well, Radie." And his sly eyes
had a twinkle in them which seemed to say, " perhaps I've
divined your secret."
"And so I do, and I like his wife, too, very much." *
"His wife! So William has married on £180 a
year ; " and the Captain laughed quietly, but very pleas-
antly again.
"On a very little more, at all events; and I think
they are about the happiest, and I'm sure they are the
best people in this part of the world."
"Well, Radie, I'll see you to-morrow again. You
preserve your good looks wonderfully. I wonder you
haven't become an old woman here."
And he kissed her, and went his way, with a slight
wave of his hand, and his odd smile, as he closed the little
garden gate after him.
Rachel was flushed, and felt oddly; a little stunned and
strange, although she had talked lightly and easily enough.
"I forgot to ask him where he is staying; the Bran-
don Arms, I suppose. I don't at all like his coming
down here after Mark Wylder; what can he mean. He
certainly never would have taken the trouble for me.
What can he want of Mark Wylder? I think he knew
old Mr. Beauchamp. He may be a trustee, but that's
not likely; Mark Wylder was not the person for any
such office. I hope Stanley docs not intend trying to ex-
tract money from him; anything rather than that degrada-
tion — than that villany. Stanley was always impracti-
cable, perverse, deceitful, and so foolish with all his cunning
and suspicion — so very foolish. Poor Stanley! He's so
unscrupulous; I don't know what to think. He said he
could force Mark Wylder to leave the country. It must


48 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
be some bad secret. If he tries and fails, I suppose he
will be ruined. He will blast himself, and disgrace all
connected with him; and it is quite useless speaking to
him."
Perhaps if Rachel Lake had been in Belgravia, leading
a town life, the matter would have taken no such dark
coloring and portentous proportions. But living in a
emall old house, in a dark glen, with no companion, and
little to occupy her, it was different.
She looked down the silent way he had so lately taken,
and repeated, rather bitterly: "My only brother! my
only brother! my only brother!"
That young lady was not quite a pauper, though she
may have thought so. She had just that symmetrical
three hundred pounds a year, which the famous Dean of
St. Patrick's tells us he so "often wished that he had
clear." She had had some money in the Funds besides,
still more insignificant; but this her brother Stanley had
borrowed and begged piecemeal, and the Consols were no
more. But though something of a nun in her way of life,
there was no germ of the old maid in her, and money was
not often in her thoughts. It was not a bad dot; and
her brother Stanley had about twice as much, and there-
fore was much better off than many a younger son of a
duke. Old General Lake had once had more than ten
thousand pounds a year, and lived, until the crash came,
in the style of a vicious old prince. It was a great break
up, and a worse fall for Eachel than for her brother, when
the plate, coaches, pictures, and "all the valuable effects"
of old Tiberius went to the hammer, and he himself van-
ished from his clubs and other haunts, and lived only —
a thin intermittent rumor — surmised to be in gaol, or in
Guernsey, and quite forgotten soon, and a little later ac-
tually dead and buried.


CHAPTER IX.
I SEE THE RING OF THE PERSIAN MAGICIAN.
"That's a devilish fine girl," said Mark Wylder.
He was sitting at this monent on the billiard table, with
his coat off and his cue in his hand, and had lighted a ci-
gar. He and I had just had a game, and were tired of it.
"Who?" I asked. He was looking on me from the
corners of his eyes, and smiling in a sly rakish way that no
man likes in another.
"Radio Lake — she's a splendid girl, by Jove! Don't
you think so? and she liked me once devilish well, I can
tell you. She was thin then, but she has plumped out a
bit, and improved every way."
"Yes, she is — she's very well; but hang it Wylder,
you're a married man now, and must give up talking that
way. People won't like it, you know; they'll take it to
mean more than it does, and you oughtn't. Let us have
another game."
"By-and-by; what do you think of Larkin?" asked
Wylder, with a sly glance from the corners of his eye.
"I think he prays rather more than is good for his cli-
ents; mind I spell it with an ' a,' not with an 'e;'
but hang it, for an attorney, you know, and such a sharp
chap, it does seem to me rather a — a joke, eh?"
"He bears a good character among the townspeople,
dosn't he? And I don't see that it can do him any harm,
remembering that he has a soul to be saved."
"Or the other thing, eh?" laughed Wylder. "But
I think he comes it a little too strong — two sermons laflt
Sunday, and a prayer meeting at nine o'clock!"
8


.50 IVYLDER'S HAJVD.
|
"Well, it won't do him any harm," I repeated.
"Harm! 0, let Jos Larkin alone for that. It gets
him all the religious business of the county; I dare say it
brings him in two or three hundred a year, eh?" And
Wylder laughed again. "It has broken up his hard, proud
heart," he says; "but it left him a devilish hard head, I
told him, and I think it sharpens his wits."
"I rather think you'll find him a useful man; and to
be so in his line of business he must have his wits about
him, I can tell you."
"He amused me devilishly," said Wylder. "with a sort
of exhortation he treated me to; he's a delightfully im-
pudent chap, and gave me to understand I was a limb of
the Devil, and he a saint. I told him I was better than
he, in my humble opinion, and so I am, by chalks. I
know very well I'm a miserable sinner, but there's mercy
above, and I don't hide my faults. I don't set up for a
light or a saint; I'm just what the prayer-book says — a
miserable sinner. There's only one good thing I can safely
say for myself — I am no Pharisee; that's all; I'm no
religious prig, puffing myself, and trusting to forms, making
long prayers in the market-place " (Mark's quotations were
paraphrastic), " and thinking of nothing but the uppermost
seat in the synagogue, and the praise of men — hang them,
I hate those fellows."
"Do you wish another game?" I asked.
"Just now," said Wylder, emitting first a thin stream
of smoke, and watching its ascent. "Dorcas is the belle
of the county; and she likes me, though she's odd, and
don't show it the way other girls would. But a fellow
knows pretty well when a girl likes him, and you know the
marriage is a sensible sort of thing, and I'm determined,
of course, to carry it through; but, hang it, a fellow can't
help thinking sometimes there are other things besides


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 51
money, and Dorcas is not my style. Rachel's moro that
way; she's a tremendious fine girl, by Jove! and I think,
if I had seen her first, I'd have thought twice before I'd
have got myself into this business."
I only smiled and shook my head.
"What do you laugh at, Charlie?" said Wylder, grin-
ning himself.
"At your confounded grumbling, Mark. The luckiest
dog in England! Will nothing content you?"
"Why, I grumble very little, I think, considering how
well off I am," rejoined he, with a laugh.
"Grumble! If you had a particle of gratitude, you'd
build a temple to Fortune — you're pagan enough for it,
Mark."
"Fortune has nothing to do with it," says Mark, laugh-
ing again.
"Well, certainly, neither had you."
"It was all the Devil. I'm not joking, Charlie, upon
my word, though I'm laughing." (Mark swore now and
then, but I take leave to soften his oaths.) "It was the
Persian Magician."
"Come Mark, say what you mean."
"I mean what I say. When we were in the Persian
Gulf, near six years ago, I was in command of the ship.
The captain, you see, was below, with a hurt in his leg.
We had very rough weather — a gale for two days and a
night almost — and a heavy swell after. In the night
time we picked up three poor devils in an open boat. One
was a Persian merchant, with a grand beard. We called
him the magician, he was so like the picture of Aladdin's
uncle."
"Why he was an African," I interposed, my sense of
accuracy offended.
"I don't care a curse what he was," rejoined Mark;


52 WYLAER'S HAJVD.
"he was exactly like the picture in the story-books. And
as we were lying off— I forget the cursed name of it —
he begged me to put him ashore. He could not speak a
word of English, but one of the fellows with him interpret"
ed, and they were all anxious to get ashore. Poor devils,
they had a notion, I believe, we were going to sell them
for slaves, and he made me a present of a ring, and told
me a long yarn about it. It was a talisman, it seems, and
no one who wore it could ever be lost. So I took it for a
keepsake; here it is," and he extended his stumpy, brown
little finger, and showed a thick, coarsely-made ring of
gold, with an uncut red stone, of the size of a large cherry
stone, set in it.
"The stone is a humbug," said Wylder. "It's not
real. I showed it to Flatten and Foyle. It's some sort
of glass. But I would not part with it. I got a fancy
into my head that luck would come with it, and maybe
that glass stuff was the thing that had the virtue in it.
Now look at these Persian letters on the inside, for that's
the oddest thing about it. Hang it, I can't pull it off—
I'm growing as fat as a pig — but they are like a queer
little string of flowers; and I showed it to a clever fellow
at Malta — a missionary chap — and he read it off slick,
and what do you think it means: 'I will come up
again ;'' and he swore a great oath. "It's as true as you
stand there — our motto. Is not it odd? So I got the
"resurgam" you see there engraved round it, and by Jove!
it did bring me up. I was near lost, and did rise again.
Eh?"
Well, it certainly was a curious accident. Mark had
plenty of odd and not unamusing lore. Men who beat
about the world in ships usually have.
"When I got this ring, Charley, three hundred a year
and a London life would have been Peru and Paradise to
poor Pilgarlick, and see what it has done for me."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 53
11 Aye, and better than Aladdin's, for you need not rub
it and bring up that confounded ugly genii; the slave of
your ring works unseen."
"So he does," laughed Wylder, in a state of elation,
"and he's not done working yet, I can tell you. When
the estates are joined in one, they'll be good eleven thou-
sand a year: and Larkin says, with smart management,
I shall have a rental of thirteen thousand before three
years! And that's only the beginning, by George! Sir
Henry Twisden can't hold his seat — he's all but broke
— as poor as Job, and the gentry hate him, and he lives
abroad. He has had a hint or two already, and he'll
never fight the next election. D'ye see — hey?"
And he laughed with cunning exultation.
"Miss Rachel will find I'm not quite such a lubber as
she fancies. But even then it is only begun. Come,
Charlie, you used to like a bet. What do you say? I'll
buy you that twenty-five. guinea book of pictures —
what's its name ? — if you give me three hundred guineas
one month after I'm a peer of Parliment. Hey? There's
a sporting offer for you. Well! what do you say — eh?"
I laughed and declined, to his great elation, and just
then the gong sounded and we were away to our toilets.
While making my toilet for dinner, I amused myself by
conjecturing whether there could be any foundation in
feet for Mark's boast, that Miss Brandon liked him.
Women are so enigmatical — some in everything — all in
matters of the heart. Don't they often affect indifference,
and occasionally even aversion, where there is a different
sort of feeling?
As I went down I heard Miss Lake chatting with her
queen-like cousin near an open door on the lobby. Ra-
chel Lake was, indeed, a very constant guest at the Hall,
and the servants paid her much respect, which I look upon


54 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
as a sign that the young heiress liked her and treated her
with consideration; and indeed there was a fiery spirit in
that young lady which would have brooked nothing less
and dreamed of nothing but equality.
CHAPTER X.
THE ACE OF HEARTS.
Who should I find in the drawing-room, talking fluent-
ly and smiling, after his wont, to old Lady Chelford, who
seemed to receive him very graciously, for her at least,
but Captain Stanley Lake!
"You know Captain Lake?" said Lord Chelford, ad-
dressing me.
And Lake turned round upon me, a little abruptly,
his odd yellowish eyes. There was something evil and
skrinking in his aspect, which I felt with, a sort of chill,
like the commencing fascination of a serpent. I often
thought since that he had expected to see Wylder before
him.
You're surprised to see me here," he said, in his very
pleasing low tones.
"I lighted on him in the village; and I knew Miss
Brandon would not forgive me if I allowed him to go
away without coming here. They are cousins, you know;
we are all cousins. I'm bad at genealogies. My mother
could tell us all about it — we, Brandons, Lakes, Wyldera,
and Chelfords."
At this moment Miss Brandon entered, with her bril-
liant cousin, Rachel. The blonde and the dark, it was a
dazzling contrast.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 55
So Chelford led Stanley Lake before the lady of the
castle. I thought of the " Fair Brunnisende," with the
captive knight in the hands of her seneschal before her,
and I fancied he said something of having found him tres-
passing in her town, and brought him up for judgment.
Whatever Lord Chelford said, Miss Brandon received it
very graciously, and even with a momentary smile. I
wonder she did not smile oftener, it became her so. But
her greeting to Captain Lake was more than usually haugh-
ty and frozen, and her features particularly proud and
pale.
"Shake hands with your cousin, my dear," said old
Lady Chelford, peremptorily. The little scene took place
close to her chair; and upon this stage direction the little
piece of by-play took place, and the young lady coldly
touched the Captain's hand, and passed on.
Young as he was, Stanley Lake was an old man of the
world, not to be disconcerted, and never saw more than
exactly suited him.
When Lord Chelford joined us, I perceived that Wylder
was in the room, and saw a very cordial greeting between
him and Lake. The Captain appeared quite easy and
cheerful: but Mark, I thought, notwithstanding his laugh-
ter and general jollity, was uncomfortable; and I saw him
once or twice, when Stanley's eye was not upon him, glance
sharply on the young man with an uneasy and not very
friendly curiosity.
At dinner Lake was easy and amusing. That meal
passed off rather pleasantly; and when we joined the
ladies' in the drawing-room, the good Vicar's enthusiastic
little wife came to meet us, in one of her honest little
raptures.
"Now, here's a thing worth your looking at! Did you
ever see anything so bee-utiful in your life? It is such a


56 WYLDER'S
darling little thing; and — look now — is not it magnifi-
cent?"
She arrested the file of gentlemen just by a large lamp,
before whose effulgence she presented the subject of her
eulogy — one of those costly trifles which announce the ap-
proach of Hymen, as flowers spring up before the rosy
steps of May.
Well, it was pretty — a set of tablets — a toy — the
cover of enamel, studded in small jewels, with a slender
border of symbolic flowers, and with a heart in the center,
a mosaic of little carbuncles, rubies, and other red and
crimson stones, placed with a view to light and shade.
"Exquisite, indeed!" said Lord Chelford. "Is this
yours, Mrs. Wylder?"
"Mine, indeed!"laughed poor little Mrs. Dorothy.
"Well, dear me, no, indeed; " — and in an earnest whis-
per close in his ear —" a present to Miss Brandon, and the
donor is not a hundred miles away from your elbow, my
Lord!" and she winked slyly, and laughed, with a little
nod at Wylder.
"Oh! I see — to be sure — really, Wylder, it does
your taste infinite credit."
"I'm glad you like it," says Wylder, chuckling be-
nignantly on it, over his shoulder. "I believe I have a
little taste that way; those are all real, you know,
those jewels."
"Oh, yes !.of course. Have you seen it, Captain
Lake?" And he placed it in that gentleman's fingers,
who now took his turn at the lamp, and contemplated the
little parallelogram with a gleam of sly amusement.
"What are you laughing at?" asked Wylder, a little
snappishly.
"I was thinking it's very like the ace of hearts," an-
swered the Captain softly, smiling on.


WTLDER'S HAJVD. 57
"Well now, thought, really it is funny; it did not
strike me before, but do you know, now, it is," laughs out
jolly Mrs. Dolly, " isn't it. Look at it, do, Mr. Wylder
— isn't it like the ace of hearts?"
And Wylder laughed too, more suddenly and noisily
than the humor of the joke seemed quite to call for, and
glanced a grim look From the corners of his eyes on Lake,
but the gallant Captain did not seem to perceive it; and
after a few seconds more he handed it very innocently back
to Mrs. Dorothy, only remarking —
"Seriously, it is very pretty, and appropriate."
And Wylder, making no remark, helped himself to a
cup of coffee, and then to a glass of Curaqoa, and then
looked industriously at a Spanish quarto of Don Quixote,
and lastly walked over to me in the hearth-rug.
"What the d— has he come down here for? It can't
be for money, or balls, or play, and be has no honest
business anywhere. Do you know?"
"Lake? Oh I I really can't tell; but he'll soon tire of
country life. I don't think he's much of a sportsman."
"Ha, isn't he? I don't know anything about him al-
most; but I hate him."
"Why should you, though? He's a very gentlemanlike
fellow, and your cousin.''
"My cousin — the Devil's cousin — every-one's cousin.
I don't know who's my cousin, or who isn't; nor you don't,
who've been for ten years over those d—d papers; I
took a dislike to him at first sight long ago, and that never
happened me but I was right."
"He's not a man for country quarters; he'll soon be
back in town, or to Brighton," I said.
"If he doesn't, /will. That's all."
Just to get him off this unpleasant groove with a little
jolt, I said —
8*


58 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"By-the-bye, Wylder, you know the pictures here ; who
is the tall man, with the long, pale face, and wild, phos-
phoric eyes? I was always afraid of him; in a long
peruke, and dark red velvet coat, facing the hall-door. I
had a horrid dream about him last night."
"That? Oh, I know — that's Lome Brandon. He
was one of our family devils, he was. (All the time he
was talking to me his angry little eyes were following
Lake.) "They say he killed his son, a blackguard, who
was found shot, with his face in the tarn in the park. He
was going to marry the game-keeper's daughter, it was
thought, and he and the old boy, who was for high blood,
and all that, were at logger-heads about it. It was not
proved, only thought likely, but he might have done worse.
I suppose Miss Partridge would have had a precious lot of
babbies; and who knows where the estate would have been
by this time."
"I believe, Charlie," he re-commenced suddenly, " there
is not such an unnatural family on record as ours; is
there? Ha, ha, ha! It's well to be distinguished in any
line. I forget all the other good things he did; but he
ended by shooting himself through the head in his bedroom,
and that was not the worst thing ever he did."
And Wylder laughed again, and began to whistle very
low — not, I fancy, for want of thought, but as a sort of
accompaniment thereto, for he suddenly said —
"And where is he staying?"
"Who? —Lake?"
"Yes."
'" I don't know; but I think he mentioned Larkin'a
house, didn't he? I'm not quite sure."
"I suppose he thinks I'm made of money. By Jove!
if he wants to borrow any I'll surprise him, the cur; I'll
talk to him ; ha, ha, ha!"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 59
And Wylder chuckled angrily, as hia eye glanced on the
graceful Captain, who was entertaining the ladies, nc
doubt, very agreeably in the distance.
CHAPTER XI.
IS WHICH LAKE UNDER THE TREES OF BRANDON, AND
I IK MY CHAMBER, SMOKE OUR NOCTURNAL CIGABS.
Miss LAKE declined the carriage to-night. Her brother
was to see her homo, and there was a leave-taking, and the
young ladies whispered a word or two, and kissed, after
the manner of their kind. To Captain Lake, Miss Bran-
don's adieux were as cold and haughty as her greeting.
"Did you see that?" said Wylder in my ear, with a
chuckle; and, wagging his head, he added, rather loftily
for him, "Miss Brandon, I reckon, has taken your measure,
Master Stanley, as well as I. I wonder what the deuce
the old dowager sees in him. Old women always like ras-
cals."
I suppose the balance of attraction and repulsion was
overcome by Miss Lake, much as he disliked Stanley, for
Wylder followed them out with Lord Chelford, to help the
young lady into her cloak and galoshes, and I found my-
self near Miss Brandon for the first time that evening, and to
my surprise she was first to speak, and that rather strangely.
"You seem to be very sensible, Mr. De Cresseron; pray
tell me, frankly, what do you think of all this?"
"I am not quite sure, Miss Brandon, that I under-
stand your question," I replied.
"I mean of the — the family arrangements, in which,


60 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
as Mr. Wylder's friend, you seem to take an interest?"
she said.
"There can hardly be a second opinion. Miss Brandon;
I think it a very wise measure," I replied, much sur-
prised.
"Very wise — exactly. But don't these very wise
things sometimes turn out very foolishly? Do you really
think your friend, Mr. Wylder, cares about me?"
"I take that for granted: in the nature of things it
can hardly be otherwise," I replied, startled and per-
plexed by the curious audacity of her interrogatory.
"It was very foolish of me to expect from Mr. Wylder's
friend any other answer; you are very loyal, Mr. De
Crcsseron."
And without awaiting my reply she made some remark
which I forgot to Lady Chelford, who sat at a little dis-
tance; and, appearing quite absorbed in her new subject,
she placed herself close beside the dowager, and contin-
ued to chat in a low tone.
I was vexed with myself for having managed with so
little skill a conversation which, opened so oddly and'
frankly, might have placed me on relations so nearly con-
fidential, with that singular and beautiful girl. I ought
to have rejoiced — but we don't always see what most
concerns our peace.
By this time Lord Chelford and Wylder returned; and,
disgusted rather with myself, I ruminated on my want of
generalship.
In the meantime, Miss Lake, with her hand on her
brother's arm, was walking swiftly under the trees of the
back avenue towards that footpath which, through wild
copse and broken clumps near the park, emerges upon tho
still darker road which passes along the wooded glen by
the mills, and skirts the little paling of the recluse lady's


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 61
garden. They had not walked far, when Lake suddenly
said —
"What do you think of all this, Radie —this particu-
lar version, I mean, of marriage, d-la-mode, they are
preparing up there?" and he made a little dip of his
cane towards Brandon Hall, over his shoulder. "I
really don't think Wylder cares twopence about her, or
she about him," and Stanley Lake laughed gently and
sleepily.
"I don't think they pretend to like one another. It
was all, you know, old Lady Chelford's arrangement;
and Dorcas is so supine, I believe she would allow her-
self to be given away by any one. and to any one, rather
than be at the least trouble. She provokes me."
"But I thought she liked Sir Harry Bracton: he's a
good-looking fellow; and Queen's Bracton is a very nice
thing, you know."
"Yes, so they said; but that would, I think, have
been worse. Something may be made of Mark Wylder.
He has some sense and caution, has not he?—but Sir
Harry is wickedness itself!"
"Why — what has Sir Harry done? That is the way
you women run away with things! If a fellow's been a
little bit wild, he's Beelzebub at once. Bracton's a very
good fellow, I can assure you."
The fact is, Captain Lake, an accomplished player,
made a pretty little revenue of Sir Harry's billiards,
which were wild and noisy; and liking his money, thought
he liked himself — a confusion not uncommon.
"I don't know, and can't say, how you fine gentlemen
define wickedness: only, as an obscure female, I speak
according to my lights: and he is generally thought the
wickedest man in this county."
"Well, you know, Radie, women like wicked fellows-


02 WYLDER'S
it is contrast, I suppose, but they do; and I'm sure, from
what Bracton has said to me — I know him intimately —
that Dorcas likes him, and I can't conceive why they are
not married."
Their walk continued silent for the greater part, nei-
ther was quite satisfied with the other. But Rachel at
last said —'
"Stanley, you meditate some injury to Mark Wylder."
"I, Radie?" he answered quietly, "why on earth
should you think so?"
"I saw you twice watch him when you thought no one
observed you — and I know your face too well, Stanley,
to mistake."
'"Now that's impossible, Radio; for I really don't
think I once thought of him all this evening — except
just while wo were talking."
"You keep your secret as usual, Stanley," said the
young lady.
"Really, Radie, you're quite mistaken. I assure you,
upon my honor, I've no secret. You're a very odd girl
— why won't you believe me?"
"Well, Stanley, I ask no more —but you don't deceive
me."
"I don't try to. If your feelings indeed had been dif-
ferent, and that you had not made such a point — you
know" —
"Don't insult me. Stanley, by talking again as you
did this morning. What I say is altogether on your own
account. Mark my words, you'll find him too strong for
you; aye, and too deep. I see very plainly that he sus-
pects you as I do. You saw it, too, for nothing of that
kind escapes you. Whatever you meditate, he probably
anticipates it — you know best — and you will find him
prepared. You were always the same, close, dark, and


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 63
crooked, and wise in your own conceit. I am very uneasy
about it, whatever it is. /can't help it. It will happen
— and most ominously I feel that you are courting a
dreadful retaliation, and that you will bring on yourself a
great misfortune; but it is quite vain, I know, speaking
to you."
"Really, Radie, you're enough to frighten a poor fel-
low; you won't mind a word I say, and go on predicting
all manner of mischief between me and Wylder, the very
nature of which I can't surmise. Would you dislike my
smoking a cigar, Radie."
"Oh no," answered the young lady, with a little laugh
and a heavy sigh, for she knew it meant silence, and her
dark auguries grew darker.
To my mind there has always been something inexpres-
sibly awful in family feuds. The mystery of their origin
— their capacity for evolving latent faculties of crime —
and the steady vitality with which they survive the hearse,
and speak their deep-mouthed malignities in every new-
born generation, have associated them somehow in my
mind with a spell of life exceeding and distinct from hu-
man, and a special Satanic action.
My chamber, as" I have mentioned, was upon the third
story. It was one of many, opening upon the long gal-
lery, which had been the scene, four generations back, of
that midnight duel which had laid one scion of this ancient
house in his shroud, and driven another a fugitive to the
moral solitudes of a continental banishment.
Much of the day, as I told you, had been passed among
the grisly records of these old family crimes and hatreds.
They had been an ill-conditioned and not a happy race.
When I heard the servant's step traversing that long gal-
lery, as it seemed to me in haste to be gone, and when all
grew silent, I began to feel a dismal sort of sensation, and


64 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
lighted the pair of wax candles which I found upon the
small writing table. How wonderful and mysterious is
the influence of light! What sort of beings must those
be who hate it?
The floor, more than anything else, showed the great
ago of the room. It was warped and arched all along by
the wall between the door and the window. My bed was
unexceptionably comfortable, but, in my then mood, I
could have wished it a great deal more modern. Its four
posts were, like the rest of it, oak, well-nigh black, fan-
tastically turned and carved, with a great urn-like capi-
tal and base, and shaped midway, like a gigantic lance-
handle. Its curtains were of thick and faded tapestry.
There was a great lowering press of oak, and some shelves,
with withered green and gold leather borders. All the
furniture belonged to other times.
I shan't trouble you about my train of thoughts or fan-
cies; but I began to feel very like a gentleman in a ghost
story, watching experimentally in a haunted chamber.
My cigar case was a resource. I was not a bit afraid of
being found out. I did not even take the precaution of
smoking up the chimney. I boldly lighted my cheroot.
I peeped through the dense window curtain: there were
no shutters. A cold, bright moon was shining with clear
sharp lights and shadows. Everything looked strangely
cold and motionless outside. The chapel lay full in view,
where so many of the strange and equivocal race, under
whose ancient roof-tree I then stood, were lying under
their tomb stones.
Somehow, I had grown nervous. A little bit of plaster
tumbled down the chimney, and startled mo confoundedly.
Then, some time after, I fancied I heard a creaking step,
on the lobby outside, and, candle in hand, opened the door,
and looked out with an odd sort of expectation, and a
rather agreeable disappointment, upon vacancy.


CHAPTER XII.
IK WHICH UNCLE LORNE TBOUBLES MB.
I was growing most uncomfortably like one of Mrs.
Anne RadelifF 'a heroes — a nervous race of demigods. I
walked like a sentinel up and down my chamber, puffing
leisurely the solemn incense, and trying to think of the
Opera and my essay on " Paradise Lost," and other pleas-
ant subjects. But it would not do. Every now and then,
as I turned towards the door, I fancied I saw it softly close.
I can't say whether it was altogether fancy. I called
out once or twice sharply — "Come in!" "Who's
there?" "Who's that? " and so forth, without any sort
of effect except that unpleasant reaction upon the nerves
which follows the sound of one's own voice in a solitude
of this kind. The fact is I did not myself believe in that
stealthy motion of my door, and set it down to one of
those illusions which I have sometimes succeeded in ana-
lysing — a half-seen combination of objects which, rightly
placed in the due relations of perspective, have no mutual
connection whatever.
I had now got half-way in my second cheroot, and the
clock clanged "one." It was a very still night, and the
prolonged boom vibrated strangely in my excited ears and
brain. One o'clock was better, however, than twelve.
'Although, by Jove! the bell was "beating one," as I re- *
member, precisely as that king of ghosts, old Hamlet,
revisited the glimpses of the moon, upon the famous plat-
form of Elsinore.
I had pondered too long over the lore of this Satanic
family, and drunk very strong tea. I suppose. I could


66 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
not get my nerves into a comfortable state, and cheerful
thoughts refused to inhahit the darkened chamber of my
brain. As I stood in a sort of reverie, looking straight
upon the door, I saw — and this time there could be no
mistake whatsoever — the handle — the only modern thing
about it — slowly turned, and the door itself as slowly
pushed about a quarter open.
I do not know what exclamation I made. The door was
shut instantly, and I found myself standing at it, and look-
ing out upon the lobby, with a candle in my hand, and
actually freezing with foolish horror.
I was looking towards the stair-head. The passage was
empty, and ended in utter darkness. I glanced the other
way, and thought I saw ->- though not distinctly — in the
distance a white figure, not gliding in the conventional way,
but limping off, with a jerky motion, and, in a second or
two, quite lost in darkness.
I got into my room again, and shut the door with a clap
that sounded loudly and unnaturally through the dismal
quiet that surrounded me, and stood with my hand on the
handle, with the instinct of resistance.
I felt uncomfortable; and I would have secured the door,
but there was no sort of fastening within. So I paused.
I did not mind looking out again. To tell you the plain
truth, I was just a little bit afraid. Then I grew angry
at having been put into such remote, and, possibly, suspect-
ed quarters, and then my comfortable scepticism super-
vened.
So, in due course having smoked my cheroot, I jerked
the stump into the fire. Of course I could not think of
depriving myself of candle-light; and being already of a
thoughtful, old-bachelor temperament, and averse from
burning houses, I placed one of my tall wax-lights in a
basin on the table by my bed — in which I soon effected a
lodgment, and lay with a comparative sense of security.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 67
Then I heard two o'clock strike; but shortly after, as I
suppose, sleep overtook me, and I have no distinct idea for
how long my slumber lasted. The fire was very low when
I awoke, and saw a figure — and a very odd one — seated
by the embers, and stooping over the grate, with a pair
of long hands expanded, as it seemed, to catch the warmth
of the sinking fire.
It was that of a very tall old man, entirely dressed in
white flannel — a very long spencer, and some sort of
white swathing about his head. His back was toward me;
and he stooped without the slightest motion over the fire-
place, in the attitude I have described. —1
As I looked, he suddenly turned toward me, and fixed
upon me a cold, and as it seemed, a wrathful gaze, over his
shoulder. It was a bleached and a long-chinned face — the
countenance of Lome's portrait — only more faded, sin-
ister, and apathetic. And having, as it were, secured its
awful command over me by a protracted gaze, he rose,
supernaturally lean and tall, and drew near the side of my
bed.
I continued to stare upon this apparition with the most"!
dreadful fascination I ever experienced in my life. For I
two or three seconds I literally could not move. When I I
did, I am not ashamed to confess, it was to plunge my head I
under the bed-clothes, with the childish instinct of terror;
and there I lay breathless, for what seemed to me not far
from ten minutes, during which there was no sound, nor -^
other symptom of its presence.
On a sudden the bed-clothes were gently lifted at my
feet, and I sprang backwards, sitting upright against the
back of the bed, and once more under the gaze of that
long-chinned old man.
A voice, as peculiar as the appearance of the figure,
said :—


WFLDER'S HJUfD

"You are in my bed — I died in it a great many years
I am Uncle Lome; and when I am not here, a devil
goes up and down in the room. See! he had his face to
your ear when I came in. I came from Dorcas Brandon's
bed-chamber door, where her evil angel told me a thing;
— and Mark Wylder must not seek to marry her, for he
will be buried alive if he does, and he will, maybe, never
get up again. Say your prayers when I go out, and come
here no more."
He paused, as if these incredible words were to sink
into my memory; and then, in the same tone, and with
the same countenance, he asked —
"Is the blood on my forehead?"
I don't know whether I answered.
"So soon as a calamity is within twelve hours, the blood
comes upon my forehead, as they found me in the morning
— it is a sign."
The old man then drew back slowly, and disappeared be-
hind the curtains at the foot of the bed, and I saw no more
of him during the rest of that odious night.
So long as this apparition remained before me, I never
doubted its being supernatural. I don't think mortal ever
suffered horror more intense. For some seconds I hardly
knew where I was. But soon a reaction came, and I felt
convinced that the apparition was a living man. It was
no process of reason or philosophy, but simply I became
persuaded of it, and something like rage overcame my
terrors.


CHAPTER XIII.
THE PONY CABRIAGE.
So soon as daylight came, I made a swift cold water
toilet, and got out into the open air, with a. solemn resolu-
tion to see the hated interior of that bed-room no more.
Stanley Lake did not appear that day; Wylder was
glowering and abstracted — worse company than usual;
and Rachel seemed to have- quite passed from his recollec-
tion.
While Rachel Lake was, as usual, busy in her little
garden that day, Lord Chelford, on his way to the town,
by the pretty mill-road, took off his hat to her with a
smiling salutation, and, leaning on the paling, he said —
"I often wonder how you make your flowers grow hero
— you have so little sun among the trees — and yet, it is
so pretty and flowery; it remains in my memory as if the
sun were always shining specially on this little garden."
Miss Lake laughed.
"I am very proud of it. They try not to blow, but I
never let them alone till they do. See all my watering-pots,
and pruning-scissors, my sticks, and bass-mat, and glass
covers. Skill and industry conquer churlish nature — and
this is my Versailles."
"I don't believe in those sticks, and scissors, and
watering-pots. You won't tell your secret; but I'm sure
it's an influence — you smile and whisper to them.''
She smiled— without raising her eyes — on the flower
she was tying up; and, indeed, it was such a smile as
must have made it happy — and she said, gaily —


70 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"You forget that Lord Chelford passes this way some-
times, and shines upon them, too."
"No, he's a dull, earthly dog; and if he shines here,
it is only in reflected light."
"Margery, child, fetch mo the scissors."
And a hobble-de-hoy of a girl, with round eyes, and a
long white apron, and bare arms, came down the little
walk, and—eyeing the peer with an awful curiosity —
presented the shears to the charming Atropos, who clipped
off the withered blossoms that had bloomed their hour,
and were to cumber the stalk no more.
"Now, you see what art may do; how passte this
creature was till I made her toilet, and how wonderfully
the poor old beauty looks now," and she glanced compla-
cently at the plant she had just trimmed.
"Well, it is young again and beautiful; but no — I
have no faith in the scissors; I still believe in the influ-
ence — from the tips of your fingers, your looks, and
tones. Flowers, like fairies, have their favorites, whom
they smile on and obey; and I think this is a haunted
glen — trees, flowers, all have an intelligence and a feel-
ing — and I am sure you see wonderful things, by moon-
light, from your window."
With a strange meaning echo, those words returned to
her afterwards— " I'm Sure you see wonderful things, by
moonlight, from your window."
And as they chatted in this strain, Rachel paused on
a sudden, with upraised hand, listening pleasantly.
"I hear the pony-carriage; Dorcas is coming," she
said.
And the tinkle of tiny wheels, coming down the road,
was audible.
"There's a pleasant sense of adventure, too, in the
midst of your seclusion. Sudden arrivals and passing pil-


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 71
grims, like me, leaning over the paling, and refreshed by
the glimpse the rogue steals of this charming oratory.
Yes; here comes the fair Brunnisende."
And he made his salutation. Miss Brandon smiled
from under her gipsy-hat very pleasantly for her.
"Will you come with me for a drive, Radie ?" she asked.
"Yes, dear — delighted. Margery, bring my gloves
and cloak."
And she unpinned the faded silk shawl that did duty
in the garden, and drew off her gauntlets, and showed her
pretty hands; and Margery popped her cloak on her
shoulders, and the young lady pulled on her gloves. All
ready in a moment, like a young lady of energy; and
chatting merrily, she sat down beside her cousin, who held
the reins. As there were no more gates to open, Miss
Brandon dismissed the servant, who stood at the ponies'
heads, and who, touching his hat with his white glove,
received his congtf, and strode with willing steps up the
road.
"Will you take me for your footman as far as the
town ?" asked Lord Chelford; so, with permission, up he
jumped behind, and away they whirled, close over the
ground, on toy wheels ringing merrily on the shingle, he
leaning over the back and chatting pleasantly with the
young ladies as they drove on.
They drew up at the Brandon Arms, and little girls
courtesied at doors, aud householders peeped from their
windows, not standing close to the panes, but respectfully
back, at the great lady and the nobleman, who was now
taking his leave.
And next they pulled up at that official rendezvous,
with white-washed front — and "post-office," in white
letters on a brown board over its door, and its black,
hinged window-pane, through which Mr. Driver — or, in


72 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
his absence, Miss Anno Driver — answered questions, and
transacted affairs officially.
In the rear of this establishment were kept some dogs
of Lawyer Larkin's; and just as the ladies arrived, that
person emerged, looking overpoweringly gentlemanlike, in
a white hat, grey paletot, lavender trowsers, and white
riding gloves. He was in a righteous and dignified way
pleased to present himself in so becoming a costume, and
moreover in good company, for Stanley Lake was going
with him to Button for a day's sport, which neither of
them cared for. But Stanley hoped to pump the attor-
ney, and the attorney, I'm afraid, liked being associated
with the fashionable Captain; and so they were each
pleased in the way that suited them.
The attorney, being long as well as lank, had to stoop
under the doorway, but drew himself up handsomely on
coming out, and assumed his easy, high-bred style, which,
although he was not aware of it, was very nearly insup-
portable, and smiled very engagingly, and meant to talk a
little about the weather; but Miss Brandon made him one
of her gravest and slightest bows, and suddenly saw Mrs.
Brown at her shop door on the other side, and had a word
to say to her.
And now Stanley Lake drew up in the tax-cart, and
greeted the ladies, and told them how he meant to pass the
day; and the dogs being put in, and the attorney, I'm
afraid a little spited at his reception, in possession of the
reins, they drove down the little street at a great pace, and
disappeared round the corner; and in a minute more
the young ladies, in the opposite direction, resumed their
drive. The ponies, being grave and trustworthy, and
having the road quite to themselves, needed little looking
after, and Miss Brandon was free to converse with her com-
panion.


WYLDER'S HAXD. 78
"I think, Rachel, you have a lover,'' she said.
"Only a bachelor, I'm afraid, as my poor Margery calls
the young gentleman who takes her out for a walk on a
Sunday, and I fear means nothing more."
"This is the second time I've found Chelford talking
to you, Rachel, at the door of your pretty little gar-
den."
Rachel laughed.
"Suppose, some fine day, he should put his hand over
the paling, and take yours, and make you a speech."
"You romantic darling," she said, "don't you know
that peers and princes have quite given over marrying
simple maidens of low estate for love and liking, and un-
derstand match-making better than you or I; though I
could give a tolerable account of myself, after the manner
of the white cat in the story, which I think is a pattern
of frankness and modest dignity, I'd say with a courtesy
':— ' Think not, prince, that I have always been a cat, and
that my birth is obscure; my father was king of six
kingdoms, and loved my mother tenderly,' and so forth."
"Rachel, I like you," interrupted the dark beauty, fix-
ing her large eyes, from which not light, but, as it were, a
rich shadow fell softly on her companion. It was the first
time she had made any such confession. Rachel returned
her look as frankly, with an amused smile, and then said,
with a comic little toss of her head —
"Well, Dorcas, I don't see why you should not, though
I don't know why you say so."
"You're not like other people; you don't complain, and
you're not bitter, although you have had great misfortunes,
my poor Rachel."
There be ladies, young and old, who, the moment they
are pitied, though never so cheerful before, will forthwith
dissolve in tears. But that was not Rachel's way; she
4


74 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
only looked at her •with a good-humored but grave curi-
osity for a few seconds, and then said, with rather a kind-
ly smile —
"And now, Dorcas, I like you."
Dorcas made no answer, but put her arm round Rachel's
neck, and kissed her; Dorcas made two kissscs of it, and
Rachel one, but it was cousinly and kindly; and Rachel
laughed a soft little laugh after it, looking amused and
very lovingly on her cousin; but she was a bold lass, and
not given in anywise to the melting mood, and said gaily,
with her open hand still caressingly on Dorcas's waist —
"I make a very good nun, Dorcas, as I told Stanley
the other day. I sometimes, indeed, receive a male visitor
at the other side of the paling, which is my grille; but to
change my way of life is a dream that does not trouble
me. Happy the girl — and I am one — who cannot like
until she is first beloved. Don't you remember poor, pale
Winnie, the maid who used to take us on our walks all the
summer at Dawling; how she used to pluck the leaves
from the flowers, like Faust's Marguerite, saying, "he
loves me a little — passionately, not at all." Now if I
were loved passionately, I might love a little; and if loved
a little — it should be not at all. And so Dorcas, as
swains are seldom passionately in love with so small a pit-
tance as mine, I think I shall mature into a queer old maid,
and take all the little Wylders, masters and misses, with
your leave, for their walks, and help to make their pina-
fores." Whereupon Miss Dorcas put her ponies into a
quick trot, and became absorbed in her driving.


CHAPTER XIV.
IU WHICH VARIOUS PERSONS GIVE THEIR OPINIONS
OF CAPTAIN STANLEY LAKE.
"STANLEY is ah odd creature," said Rachel, so soon as
another slight incline brought them to a walk; "I can't
conceive why he has come down here, or what he can pos-
sibly want of that disagreeable lawyer. They have got
dogs and guns, and are going, of course, to shoot; but he
does not care for shooting, and I don't think Mr. Larkin's
society can amuse him. Stanley is clever and c%nning,
but he is neither wise nor frank. He never tells me his
plans, though he must know — he does know — I love
him; yes, he's a strange mixture of suspicion and impru-
dence. He's wonderfully reserved. If he were like
Lord Chelford, or even like our good Vicar — not in piety,
for poor Stanley's training, like my own, was sadly neg-
lected there — I mean in a few manly points of character,
I should be quite happy, I think, in my solitary nook."
"Is he so very odd?" said Miss Brandon, coldly.
"I only know he makes me often very uncomfortable,"
answered Rachel. "I never mind what he tells me, for
I think he likes to mislead everybody; and I have been
too often duped by. him to trust what he says. I only
know that his visit to Gylingden must have been made
with some serious purpose, and his ideas are all so rash
and violent/'
"He was at Donnyston for ten days, I think, when 1
was there, and seemed clever. They had charades and
proverbfs dramatiqucs. I'm no judge, but the people
who understood it, said he was very good."


76 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
While these young ladies are discussing Stanley Lake.
I may be permitted to mention my own estimate of that
agreeable young person.
Captain Lake was a gentleman and an officer, and of
course an honorable man; but somehow I should not have
liked to buy a horse from him. He was gentlemanlike in
appearance, and even elegant; but I never liked him,
although he undoubtedly had a superficial fascination. I
think he was destitute of those fine moral instincts which
are born with men, but never acquired; and in his way
of estimating his fellow-men, and the canons of honor,
there was occasionally perceptible a faint flavor of the
villanous, and an undefined savor, at times, of brimstone.
I know* also that when his temper, which was nothing very
remarkable, was excited, he could be savage and brutal
enough; and I believe he had often been violent and cow-
ardly in his altercations with his sister — so, at least, two
or three people, who were versed in the scandals of the
family affirmed. His morality, however, I suppose, was
good enough for the world, and he had never committed
himself in any of those ways of which that respectable
tribunal takes cognisance.
"So that d—d fellow Lake is down here still; and
that stupid, scheming lubber, Larkin, driving him about
in his tax-cart, instead of minding his business. I could
not see him to-day. That sort of thing won't answer me;
and he is staying at Larkin's house, I find." Wylder
was talking to me on the door steps after dinner, having
in a rather sulky way swallowed more than his usual mod-
icum of Madeira, and his remarks were delivered interrupt-
edly — two or three puffs of his cigar interposed between
each sentence.
"I suppose he expects to be asked to the wedding.
He may expect — ha, ha, ha! You don't know that lad
as I do."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 77
Then there came a second cigar, and some little time
in lighting, and full twenty enjoyable puffs before he re-
sumed.
"Now, you're a moral man, Charlie, tell me really
what you think of a fellow marrying a girl he dees not
care that for," and he snapt his fingers. "Just for the
sake of her estate — it's the way of the world, of course,
and all that — but, is not it a little bit shabby, don't you
think? Eh? Ha, ha, ha!"
"I'll not debate with you, Wylder, on that stupid old
question. It's the way of the world, as you say. and
there's an end of it."
"They say she's such a beauty! Well, so I believe
she is, but I can't fancy her. Now you must not be an-
gry. I'm not a poet like you — book-learned, you know;
and she's too solemn by half, and grand. I wish she
was different. That other girl, Rachel — she's a devilish
handsome craft. I wish almost she was not here at all,
or I wish she was in Dorcas' shoes."
"Nonsense, Wylder! stop this stuff; and it is grow-
ing cold: throw away that cigar, and come in."
"In a minute. No, I assure you, I'm not joking.
Hang it! I must talk to some one. I'm devilish uncom-
fortable about this grand match. I wish I had not been
led into it. I don't think I'd make a good husband to any
woman I did not fancy, and where's the good of making a
girl unhappy, eh?"
"Tut, Wylder, you ought to have thought of all that
before. I don't like your talking in this strain when you
know it's too.late to recede; besides, you are the luckiest
fellow in creation. Upon my word, I don't know why
the girl marries you; you can't suppose that she could
not marry much better, and if you have not made up your
mind to break off, you had better not speak in that way
any more."


78 WYLDER'S. HAJVD.
"Why, it was only to you, Charlie, and to tell you the
truth, I do believe it is the best thing for me: but I sup-
pose every fellow feels a little queer when he is going to
be spliced, eh? I suppose I'm a bit put out by that dis-.
reputable dog's being here — I mean Lake; not that I
need care more than Dorcas, or any one else; but he's no
credit to the family, you see, and I never could abide him.
I've half a mind, Charlie, to tell you a thing; but hang
it! you're such a demure old maid of a chap. Will you
have a cigar?"
"No."
"Well, I believe two's enough for me," and he looked
up at the stars.
"I've a notion of running up to town, only for a day
or two, before this business comes off, just on the sly;
you'll not mention it, and I'll have a word with Lake,
quite friendly, of course; but I'll shut him up, and that's
all. I wonder he did not dine here to-day. Did you
ever see so pushing a brute?"
So Wylder chucked away his cigar, and stood for a
minute with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the
stars, as if reading fortunes there.
I had an unpleasant feeling that Mark Wylder was
about some mischief— a suspicion that some game of
mine and countermine was going on between him and Lake,
to which I had no clue whatsoever. I dare say my last
night's adventure tended to make me more nervous and
prone to evil anticipation. And although my quarters
had been changed to the lower story, I grew uncomfort-
able as it waxed late, and half regretted that I had not
migrated to the "Brandon Arms."
Uncle Lorne, however, made me no visit that night.
Once or twice I fancied something, and started up in my
bed. It was fancy, merely. What state had I really been


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 79
in, when I saw that long-chinned apparition of the pale
portrait? Many a wiser man than I had been mystified by
dyspepsia and melancholic vapors.
CHAPTER XV.
DORCAS SHOWS HER JEWELS XO MISS LAKE.
STANLEY LAKE and his sister dined next day at Brandon.
Under the cold shadow of Lady Chelford, the proprieties
flourished, and generally very little else. Awful she was,
and prompt to lecture young people before their peers, and
spoke her mind with fearful directness and precision. But
sometimes she would talk, and treat her hearers to her re-
collections, and recount anecdotes with a sort of grim
cleverness, not wholly unamusing.
When I entered the drawing-room after dinner, Lord
Chelford was plainly arguing a point with the young
ladies, and by the time I drew near, it was Miss Lake's
turn to speak. "Flattering of mankind, I am sure, I
have no talent for; and without flattering and wheedling
you'll never have conjugal obedience. Don't you remem-
ber Robin Hood? how —
The mother of Bobin said to her husband,
My honey, my love, and my dear!
And all this for leave to ride with her son to see her own
brother at Gamwell."
'" I remember," said Dorcas, with a smile. "I wonder
what has become of that old book, with its odd little wood-
cuts.
And he said, I grant thcc thy boon, gentle Joan!
Take one of my horses strnitwny."


80 WYLDER'S HAXD.
"Well though the book is lost, we retain the moral,
you see," said Rachel with a little laugh; "and it has
always seemed to me that if it had not been necessary to
say, 'my honey, my love, ajid my dear,' that good soul
would not have said it, and you maybe pretty sure that if
she had not, and with the suitable by-play too, she might
not have ridden to Gamwell that day."
"And you don't think you could have persuaded your-
self to repeat that little charm, which obtained her boon
of his horses straitway?." said Lord Chelford.
"Well, I don't know what a great temptation and a
contumacious husband might bring one to; but I'm afraid
I'm a stubborn creature, and have not the feminine gift
of flattery. If, indeed, he felt his inferiority and owned
his dependence, I think I might, perhaps, have called
him ' my honey, my love, and my dear;* and encouraged
and comforted him; but to buy iny personal liberty, and
the right to visit my brother at Gamwell — never!"
And yet she looked, Lord Chelford thought, very good-
humored and pleasant, and he fancied a smile from her
might do more with some men than all gentle Joan's
honeyed vocabulary.
"I own," said Lord Chelford, laughing, " that, from
prejudice, I suppose, I am in favor of the apostolic meth-
od, and stand up for the divine right of my sex; but then,
don't you sec, it is your own fault, if you make it a ques-
tion of right, when you may make it altogether one of
fascination?"
"Who. pray, is disputing the husband's right to rule?"
demanded old Lady Chelford unexpectedly.
"I am very timidly defending it against very serious
odds," answered her son.
"Tut, tut! my dears, what's all this; you must obey
your husbands," cried the dowager, who put down non-


WVLDER'S HAJVD. gl
sense with a high hand, and had ruled her lord with a
rod of iron,
"That's no tradition of the Brandons," said Miss Dor-
cas, quietly.
"The Brandons.— pooh! my dear — it is time the
Brandons should grow like other people. Hitherto, the
Brandon men have all, without exception, been the wick-
edest in nll England, and the women the handsomest and
the most self-willed. Of course the men could not be
obeyed in all things, nor the women disobeyed. I'm a
Brandon myself, Dorcas, so I've a right to speak. But
the words are precise — honor and obey — and obey you
must; though, of course you may argue a point, if need
be, and let your husband hear reason."
And, having ruled the point, old Lady Chelford leaned
back and resumed her doze.
There was no longer anything playful in Dorcas's look.
On the contrary, something fierce and lurid, which I
thought wonderfully becoming; and after a little she said,
"I promised, Rachel, to show you my jewels. Come
now — will you ? — and see them."
And she placed Rachel's hand on her arm, and the two
young ladies departed.
"Are you well, dear?" asked Rachel when they reach-
ed her room.
Dorcas was very pale, and her gaze was stern, and some-
thing undefinably wild in her quietude.
"What day of the month is this?'' said Dorcas.
"The eighth — is not it? — yes, the eighth," answer-
ed Rachel.
"And our marriage is fixed for the twenty-second —just
a fortnight hence. I am going to tell you, Raohel, what
I have resolved on."
"How really beautiful these diamonds are! — quite
superb."


82 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Yes," said Dorcas, opening the jewel-cases, which
she had taken from her cabinet, one after the other.
"And these pearls! how very magnificent! I had no
idea Mark Wylder's taste was so exquisite."
"Yes, very magnificent, I suppose."
"How charming — quite regal—you will look, Dor-
cas!"
Dorcas smiled strangely, and her bosom heaved a little,
Rachel thought. Was it elation, or was there not some-
thing wildiy bitter gleaming in that smile?
"I must look a little longer at these diamonds."
"As long, dear, as you please. You are not likely,
Rachel, to see them again."
From the blue flash of the brilliants Rachel in honest
amazement raised her eyes to her cousin's face. The same
pale smile was there; the look was oracular and painful.
Had she overheard a part of that unworthy talk of
Wylder's at the dinner-table, the day before, and mistaken
Rachel's share in the dialogue?
And Dorcas said —
"You have heard of the music on the waters that
lures mariners to destruction. The pilot leaves the
rudder, and leans over the prow, and listens. They steer
no more, but drive before the wind; and what care they
for wreck and drowning?"
I suppose it was the same smile; but in Rachel's eyes,
as pictures will, it changed its character with her own
change of thought, and now it seemed the pale rapt smile
of one who hears music far•off, or sees a vision.
"Rachel, dear, I sometimes think there is an evil genius
attendant on our family,'' continued Dorcas, in the same
subdued tone, which, in its very sweetness, had so sinister
a sound in Rachel's ear. "From mother to child, from
child to grandchild, the same influence continues, and, one


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 83
after another, wrecks the daughters of our family. Here
I stand, forwarned, with my eyes open, determinedly fol-
lowing in the funereal footsteps of those who have gone
their way before me. These jewels all go back to Mr.
Wylder. He never can be anything to me. I was, I
thought, to build up our house. I am going, I think, to
lay it in the dust. With the spirit of the insane, I feel the
spirit of a prophetess, too, and I see the sorrow that awaits
me. You will see."
"Dorcas, darling, you are certainly ill. What is the
matter?''
"No, dear Rachel, not ill, only maybe agitated a little.
You must not touch the bell — listen to me; but first
promise, so help you Heaven, you will keep my se-
cret."
"I do promise, indeed Dorcas. I swear I'll not repeat
one word you tell me."
"It has been a vain struggle. I know he's a bad man,
a worthless man — selfish, cruel, maybe. Love is not blind
with me, but quite insane. He does not know, nor you,
nor any one; and now, Rachel, I tell you what was un-
know to all but myself and Heaven — looking neither for
counsel, nor for pity, nor for sympathy, but because I
must, and you have sworn to keep my secret. I love
your brother. Rachel, you must try to like me."
She threw her arms round her cousin's neck, and
Rachel felt in her embrace the vibration of an agony.
She was herself so astonished that for a good while she"
could hardly collect her thoughts or believe her senses.
Was it credible? Stanley! whom she had received with
a coldness, if not aversion, so marked, that, if he had a
spark of Rachel's spirit, he would never have approached
h,er more! Then came the thought — perhaps they un-
derstood one another, and that was the meaning of Stanley's
unexpected visit?


84 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Well Dorcas, dear, I am utterly amazed. But does
Stanley — he can hardly hope?"
Dorcas removed her arms from her cousin's neck; her
face was pale, and her cheeks wet with tears, which she
did not wipe away.
"Sit down by me, Rachel. No. he does not like me
— that is — I don't know; but, I am sure, he can't sus-
pect that I like him. It was my determination it should
not be. I resolved, Rachel, quite to extinguish the mad-
ness; but I could not. It was not his doing, nor mine,
but something else. There are some families, I think, too
•wicked for Heaven to protect, and they are given over to
the arts of those who hated them in life and pursue them
after death; and this is the meaning of the curse that has
always followed us. No good will ever happen us, and I
must go like the rest."
There was a short silence, and Rachel gazed on the car-
pet in troubled reflection, and then, with an anxious look,
she took her cousin's hand, and said —
"Dorcas, you must think of this no more. I am
speaking against my brother's interest. But you must
not sacrifice yourself, your fortune, and your happiness
to a shadow; whatever his means are, they hardly suffice
for his personal expenses — indeed, they don't suffice, for
I have had to help him. But that is all trifling compared
with other considerations. I am his sister, and. though he
has shown little love for me, I am not without affection —
and strong affection — for him; but I must and will speak
frankly. You could not, I don't think any one could be
happy with Stanley for her husband. You don't know
him: he's profligate; he's ill-tempered ; he's cold; he's sel-
fish ; he's secret. He wasa spoiled boy, totally without uior-
al education; he might, perhaps, have been very different,
but hew what he is, and I don't think he'll ever change."


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 85
"He may be what he will. It is vain reasoning with
that which is not reason; possibly he may never know,
and that might be best — but be it how it may, I will never
marry uny one else."
"Dorcas, dear, you must not speak to Lady Chelford,
or to Mark Wylder, to-night. It is too serious a step to
be taken in haste.''
"There has been no haste, Rachel, and there canybe no
change."
"And what reason can you give?''
"None; no reason," said Dorcas. slowly.
"Wylder would have been suitable in point of wealth.
Not so well, I am sure, as you might have married; but
neither would he be a good husband, though not so bad as
Stanley; and I do not think that Mark Wylder will
quietly submit to his disappointment."
'' It was to have been simply a marriage of two estates.
It was old Lady Chelford's plan. I have now formed
mine, and all that's over. Let him do what he will — I
believe a lawsuit is his worst revenge — I'm indiffer-
ent."
Just then a knock came to the chamber door.
"Come in,'' said Miss Brandon; and her maid entered
to say that the carriage was at the door to take Miss
Lake home.
"I had no idea it was so late," said Rachel.
"Stay, dear, don't go for a moment. Jones, bring Miss
Lake's cloak and bonnet here. And now, dear," she said,
after a little pause, "you'll remember your solemn pro-
mise?"
"I never broke my word, dear Dorcas; your secret is
safe."
'' And, Rachel,, try to like me."
"I love you better, Dorcas, than I thought I ever could.
Good night, dear."


86 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
And the young ladies parted with a kiss, and then
another.
CHAPTER XVI.
*
"JENNY, PUT THE KETTLE ON."
OLD Lady Chelford, having despatched a sharp and
unceremonious message to her young kinswoman, absent
without leave, warning her, in effect, that if she returned
to the drawing-room it would be to preside, alone, over•
gentlemen, departed, somewhat to our secret relief.
Upon this, on Lord Chelford's motion, in our forlorn
condition, we went to the billiard-room, and there, under
the bright lights, and the gay influence of that wonderful
game, we forgot our cares, and became excellent friends
apparently — Lord Chelford joked, Wylder "chaffed,"
even Lake seemed to enjoy himself; and the game pro-
ceeded with animation and no lack of laughter, beguiling
the watches of the night; and we were all amazed, at
length, to find how very late it was. So we laid down
our cues, with the customary ejaculations of surprise.
We declined wine and water, and all other creature com-
forts. Wylder and Lake had a walk before them, and we
bid Lord Chelford "good night" in the passage, and I
walked with them through the deserted and nearly dark-
ened rooms.
Our talk grew slow, and our spirits subsided in this
changed and tenebrose scenery. The void and the dark-
ness brought back, I suppose, my recollection of the du-
bious terms on which these young men stood, and a feel-
ing of the hollowness and delusion of the genial hours


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 87
just passed under the brilliant lights, together with an
unpleasant sense of apprehension. I suspect that Wylder
and Lake, too, felt something of the same ominous qualm,
for I thought their faces looked gloomy in the light, as
they stood together buttoning their loose wrappers and
lighting their cigars.
Wijh a "good night, good night," we parted, and I
heard their retreating steps crunching along the walk that
led to Redman's Hollow,' and by Miss Rachel's quiet hab-
itation. I heard no talking, such as comes between whiffs
with friendly smokers, side by side; and, silent as mutes
at a funeral, they walked on, and soon the fall of their
footsteps. was heard no more, and I re-entered the hall and
shut the door. The level moonlight was shining through
the stained heraldic window, and fell bright on the por-
trait of Uncle Lome, at the other end, throwing a patch
of red, like a stain, on one side of its pale forehead.
I had forgot, at the moment, that the ill-omened portrait
hung there, and a sudden horror smote me. I thought of
what my vision said of the " blood upon my forehead,"
and, by Jove ! there it was!
At this moment the large white Marseilles waistcoat of
grave Mr. Larcom appeared, followed by a tall powdered
footman, and their candles and business-like proceedings
frightened away the phantoms. So I withdrew to my
chamber, where, I am glad to say, I saw nothing of Uncle
Lome.
Miss Lake, as she drove that night, toward Gylingden,
said little to the Vicar's wife, whose good husband had
been away to Friars, making a sick-call, and she prattled
on very merrily about his frugal little tea awaiting his
late return, and asked her twice on the way home wheth-
er it was half-past nine, for she did not boast a watch;
and in the midst of her prattle was peeping at the land-
marks of their progress.


88 WYLDER'S
"Oh, I'm so glad—here's the finger post, at last!"
and then — " Well, here we are at the " Cat and Fiddle;"
I thought we'd never pass it."
And, at last, the brougham stopped at the little garden-
gate, at the far end of the village; and the good little
mamma called to her maid-of-all-work from the window —
"Has the master come yet, Becky?"
"No, ma'am, please."
And I think she offered up a little thanksgiving she so
longed to give him his tea herself: and then she asked —
"Is our precious mannikin asleep?" Which also be-
ing answered happily, as it should be, she bid her fussy
adieux, with a merry smile, and hurried across the little
flower-garden; and Miss Lake was shut in and drove on
alone, under the thick canopy of old trees, and up the
mill-road, lighted by the flashing lamps, to her own little
precincts, and was, in turn, at home — solitary, triste, but
still her home.
"Get to your bed, Margery, child, you are sleepy,"
said the young lady kindly to her queer little maid-of-
Lonor. Rachel was one of those persons who, no matter
what may be upon their minds, are quickly impressible
by the scenes in which they find themselves. She stepped
into her little kitchen — and she looked all round and
smiled pleasantly, and kissed old Tamar, and said —
"So, my dear old fairy, here's your Cinderella home
again from the ball, and I've seen nothing so pretty as
this since I left Redman's Farm. How white your table
is, how nice your chairs; I wish you'd change with me
and let me be cook week about; and, really the fire is
quite pleasant to-night. Come, make a cup of tea, and
tell us a story, and frighten me and Margery before we
go to our beds. Sit down, Margery, I'm Only here by
permission. What do you mean by standing?" And the


WYLDER'S HAWD. 89
young lady, with a laugh, sat down, looking so pleased,
and good-natured, and merry, that even old Tamar was
fain to smile a glimmering smile; and little Margery ac-
tively brought the tea-caddy; and the kettle being in a
skittish, singing state, quickly went off in a boil, and Ta-
mar actually made tea in her brown tea-pot.
"Oh, no; the delft cups and saucers; — it will be
twice as good in them; " and as the handsome mistress•of
the mansion, sitting in the deal chair, loosened her cloak
and untied her bonnet, she chatted away, to the edifica-
tion of Margery and the amusement of both.
This little extemporised bivouac, as it were, with her
domestics, delighted the young belle. What saloon was
ever so cheery as this, or flashed all over in so small a
light so splendidly, or yielded such immortal nectar from
chased teapot and urn, as this brewed in brown crockery
from the roaring kettle?
So Margery sitting upon her stool in the back-ground
— for the queen had said it, and sit she must — and grin-
ning from ear to ear, in a great halo of glory, partook of
tea.
"Well, Tamar, where's your story ?" said the young
lady.
"Story! La! bless you, dear Miss Radie, where
should I find a story? My old head's a poor one to re-
member,'•' whimpered white Tamar.
"Anything, no matter what — a ghost or a murder."
Old Tamar shook her head.
"Or an elopement?"
Another shake of the head.
"Or a mystery — or even a dream?"
"Well — a dream! Sometimes I do dream. I dreamed
how Master Stanley was coming, the night before."
"You did, did you? Selfish old thing! and you
meant to keep it all to yourself. What was it?"


90 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Tamar looked anxiously and suspiciously in the kitch-
en fire, and placed her puckered hand to the side of her
white linen cap.
"I dreamed, ma'am, the night before he came, a great
fellow was at the hall-door."
"What! here?"
"Yes, ma'am, this hall-door. So muffled up I could
not see his face; and he pulls out a letter all over red."
"Red ink?"
"No, miss, red paper, written with black, and directed
for you."
"Oh!"
"And so, miss, in my dream, I gave it you in the
drawing-room; and you opened it. and leaned your hand
upon your head, sick-like, reading it. I never saw you
read a letter so serious-like before. And says you to me,
miss,li It's all about Master Stanley; he is coining." And
sure enough, here he was quite unexpected, next morning."
"And was there no more? " asked Miss Lake.
"No more, miss. I awoke just then."
"It is odd," said Miss Lake, with a little laugh.
"Had you been thinking of him lately?"
"Not a bit ma'am. I don't know when." .
"Well, it certainly is very odd.
At all events, it had glanced upon a sensitive recollec-
tion unexpectedly. The kitchen was only a kitchen now;
and the young lady, on a sudden, looked thoughtful —
perhaps a little sad.
"Light the candles in the drawing-room, Margery, and
then, child, go to your bed," said the young lady, awaken-
ing from an abstraction. "I don't mind dreams, Tamar,
nor fortune-tellers — I've dreamed so many good dreams,
and no good ever came of them. But talking of Stanley
reminds me of trouble and follies that I can't help, or


WYLDER'S HAJVD 91
prevent. Pic has left the army, Tamar, and I don't know
what his plans are."
"Ah ! poor child; he was always foolish and changea-
ble, and a deal too innocent for them wicked officer-
gentlemen; and I'm glad he's not among them any longer
to learn bad ways — I am."
So, the drawing-room being prepared, Rachel bid Ta-
mar and little Margery good-night, and the sleepy little
handmaid stumped off to her bed; and white old Tamar,
who had not spoken so much for a month before, put on
her solemn round spectacles, and by her dipt candle read
her chapter in the ponderous Bible she had thumbed so
well, and her white lips told over the words as she read
them in silence.
It was a small house, this Redman's Farm, but very
silent, for all that, when the day's work was over; and
very solemn, too, the look-out from the window among the
colonnades of tall old trees, on the overshadowed earth, and
through them into deepest darkness; the complaining of
the lonely stream far down is the only sound in the air.
There was but one imperfect vista, looking down the
glen, and this afforded no distant view—only a down-
ward slant in the near woodland, and a denser back-ground
of forest rising at the other side, and to-night mistily gild-
ed by the yellow moonbeams, the moon herself unseen.
Rachel had opened her window-shutters, as was her
wont when the moon was up, and with her small white
hands on the window-sash, looked into the wooded soli-
tudes, lost in haunted darkness in every direction but one,
and there massed in vaporous -and discolored foliage, hard-
ly more distinct, or less solemn.
"Poor old Tamar says her prayers, and reads her Bi-
ble; I wish / could. How often I wish it. That good,
simple Vicar — how unlike his brother — is wiser, per-


92 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
haps, than all the shrewd people that smile at him. He
used to talk to me; but I've lost that — yes— I let him
understand I did not care for it, and so that good influ-
ence is gone from me—,graceless creature. No one
seemed to care, except poor old Tamar, whether I ever
said a prayer, or heard any good thing; and when I was
no more than ten years old, I refused to say my prayers
for her. My poor father. Well, Heaven help us all."
So she stood in the same sad attitude, looking out upon
the shadowy scene, in a forlorn reverie.
Her interview with Dorcas remained on her memory like
an odd, clear, half-horrible dream. What a dazzling pros-
pect it opened for Stanley; what a dreadful one might it
not prepare for Dorcas. What might notarise from such
a situation between Stanley and Mark Wylder, each in
his way a worthy representative of the ill-conditioned and
terrible race whose blood he inherited? Was this doomed
house of Brandon never to know repose or fraternity?
Was it credible? Had it actually occurred, that strange
confession of Dorcas Brandon's?
"What can she see in him? There's nothing remark-
able in Stanley, poor fellow, except his faults. There
are much handsomer men than he, and many as amusing
— and he with no estate."
Rachel was troubled by a sort of fear to-night, and the
low fever of an undefined expectation was upon her. She
turned from the window, intending to write two letters,
which she had owed too long — young lady's letters; and
as she turned, with a start, she saw old Tamar standing
in the door-way, looking at her.
"Tamar!"
"Yes, Miss Rachel."
"Why do you come so softly, Tamar? Do you know,
you frightened me?"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 93
'"I thought I'd look in, miss, before I went to bed, just
to see if you wanted anything."
"No — nothing, thank you, dear Tamar."
"And I don't think, Miss Rachel, you are quite well
to-night, though you are so gay — you're pale, dear;
and there's something on your mind. Don't be thinking
about Master Stanley; he's out of the army now, and I'm
thankful for it; and make your mind easy about him; and
would not it be better, dear, you went to your bed, you
rise so early."
"Very true, good old Tamar, but to-night I must write
a letter — not a long one, though — and I assure you, I'm
quite well. Good-night, Tamar."
Tamar stood for a moment with her odd weird look upon
her, and then bidding her good-night, glided stiffly away,
shutting the door.
So Rachel sat down to her desk and began to write; but
she could not get into the spirit of her letter; her mind
wandered away, and she found herself listening, every now
and then, and at last she fancied that old Tamar, about
whom that dream, and her unexpected appearance at the
door, had given her a sort of spectral feeling that night,
was up and watching her; and the idea of this white
sentinel outside her door excited her so unpleasantly, that
she opened it, but found no Tamar there; and then she
revisited the kitchen, but that was empty too, and the fire
taken down. And, finally, she passed into the old woman's
bed-chamber, whom she saw, her white head upon her
pillow, dreaming again, perhaps. And so, softly closing
her door, she left her to her queer visions and deathlike
slumber.


CHAPTER XVII.
BACHEL LAKE SEES WONDERFUL THINGS BY MOON-
LIGHT FROM HER WINDOW.
THOUGH Rachel was unfit for letter-writing, she was
still more unfit for slumber. She leaned her temple on
her hand, and her rfch light hair half covered her fingers,
and her amazing interview with Dorcas was again present
with her, and the same feeling of bewilderment.
It was late now, not far from one o'clock, and around
her the terrible silence of a still night. All those small
sounds lost in the hum of mid-day life now came into
relief— a ticking in the wainscot, a crack now and then in
the joining of the furniture, and occasional! y the tap of a
moth against the window pane from outside, sounds sharp
and odd, which made her wish the stillness of the night
were not so intense.
As from her little table she looked listlessly through the
window, she saw against the faint glow of the moonlight,
the figure of a man who seized the paling and vaulted
into the flower garden, and with a few swift, stumbling
strides over the flower-beds, reached the window, and
placing his pale face close to the glass, she saw his eyes
glittering through it; he tapped — or rather beat on the
pane with his fingers — and at the same time he said, re-
peatedly: "Let me in; let me in."
Her first impression, when she saw this person cross
the little fence at the road-side was, that Mark Wylder
was the man. But she was mistaken; the face and figure
were Stanley Lake's.
She would have screamed in the extremity of her terror,


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 95
bat that her voice for some seconds totally failed her: and
recognising her brother, she rose up, and with an awful
ejaculation, she approached the window.
"Let me in, Radio; d— you, let me in," he repeated,
drumming incessantly on the glass. There was no trace
now of his sleepy jeering way. Rachel saw that some-
thing was very wrong, and beckoned him toward the
porch in silence, and having removed the slender fasten-
ings of the door, it opened, and he entered in a rush of
damp night air. She took him by the hand, and he shook
hers mechanically, like a man rescued from shipwreck,
and plainly not recollecting himself well.
"Stanley, dear, what's the matter, in Heaven's
name?" she whispered, so soon as she had got him into
her little drawing-room.
"He has done it; d—him, he has done it," gasped
Stanley Lake.
He looked in her face with a glazed and ashy stare.
His hat remained on his head, overshadowing his face; and
his boots were soiled with clay, and his wrapping coat
marked, here and there, with the green of the stems and
branches of trees, through which he had made his way.
"I see, Stanley, you've.had a scene with Mark Wylder;
I warned you of your danger — you have had the worst
of it."
"I spoke to him. He took a course I did not expect.
I'm not well."
"You've broken your promise. I see you have used mo.
How base; how stupid!"
"D— him; I wish I had done as you said. I wish I
had never come here. Give me a glass of wine. He has
ruined me."
"You cruel, wretched creature!" said Rachel, now
convinced that he had compromised her as he threatened.


96 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
"Yea, I was wrong; I'm sorry; things have turned out
different. Who's that?" said Lake, grasping her wrist.
«' Who — where — Mark Wylder?"
"No; it's nothing, I believe."
"Where is he? Where have you left him?"
"Up there, at the pathway, near the stone steps."
"Waiting there?"
"Well, yes; and I don't think I'll go back, Radie."
"You shall go back, sir, and carry my message; or,
no, I could not trust you. I'll go with you and see him,
and disabuse him. How could you — how could you,
Stanley?"
"It was a mistake, altogether; I'm sorry, but I could
not tell there was such a devil on the earth."
"Yes, I told you so. He has frightened you" said
Rachel.
"lie lias maybe. At any rate, I was a fool, and I
think I'm ruined; and I'm afraid, Rachel, you'll be incon-
venienced too."
"Yes, you have made him brutal; and between you,
I shall be called in question, you wretched fool!"
Stanley was taking these hard terms very meekly for a
savage young coxcomb like him. Perhaps they bore no
very distinct meaning just then to his mind. Perhaps it
was preoccupied with more exciting ideas; or, it may be,
his agitation and fear cried "amen" to the reproach; at
all events, he only said, in a pettish but deprecatory sort
of way —
"Well, where's the good of scolding; how can I help it
now?"
"What's your quarrel? why does he wait for you there?
why has he sent you here? It must concern me, sir, and
I insist on hearing it all."
"So you shall, Radie; only have patience just a


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 97
minute — and give me a little wine or water — any-
thing."
"There is the key. There's some wine in the press, I
think."
He tried to open it, but his hand shook. He saw his
sister look at him, and he flung the keys on the table rather
savagely, with, I dare say, a curse between his teeth.
Rachel took the key with a faint gleam of scorn on her
face, and brought out the wine in silence.
He took a tall-stemmed Venetian glass that stood upon
the cabinet, an antique decoration, and filled it with sherry
— a strange revival of old service! How long was it since
lips had touched its brim before, and whose? Lovers',
maybe, and how? How long since that cold crystal had
glowed with the ripples of wine? This, at all events,
was its last service. It is an old legend of the Venetian
glass — its shivering at touch of poison; and there are
those of whom it is said, "the poison of asps is under their
lips."
"What's that?" ejaculated Rachel, with a sudden
shriek — that whispered shriek, so expressive and ghastly,
that you, perhaps, have once heard in your life — and her
very lips grew white.
"Hollo !" cried Lake. He was standing with his back
to the window, and sprang forward, as pale as she, and
grasped her, with a white leer that she never forgot, over
bis shoulder, and the Venice glass was shivered on the
ground.
"Who's there?" he whispered.
And Rachel, in a whisper, ejaculated the awful name
that must not be taken in vain.
She sat down. She was looking at him with a wild,
stern stare, straight in the face, and he still holding her
arm, and close to her.
6


98 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"I see it all now," she whispered.
"Who — what — what is it?" said he.
"I could not have fancied that" she whispered with a
Stanley looked round him with pale and sharpened fea-
tures.
"What the devil is it? If that scoundrel had come to
kill us you could not cry out louder," he whispered, with
an oath. "Do you want to wake your people up?"
"Oh! Stanley," she repeated, in a changed and
horror-stricken way, " What a fool I've been. I see it at
last; I see it all now," and she waved her white hands
together very slowly towards him, as mesmerisers move
theirs.
There was a silence of some seconds, and his yellow
ferine gaze met hers strangely.
"You were always a sharp girl, Radie, and I think
you do see it." he said at last, very quietly.
"The witness — the witness — the dreadful witness!"
she repeated.
"I'll show you, though, it's not so bad as you fancy.
I'm sorry I did not take your advice; but how, I say,
could I know he was such a devil. I must go back to him.
I only came down to tell you, because Radie, you know
you proposed it yourself; you must come too — you must
Radie."
"Oh, Stanley, Stanley, Stanley!"
"Why, d— it, it can't be helped now; can it?" said
he, with a peevish malignity. But she was right; there
was something of the poltroon in him, and he was trem-
bling.
"Why could you not leave me in peace, Stanley?"
"I can't go without you, Rachel. I won't; and if we
don't we're both ruined," he said, with a bleak oath.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 99
"Yes, Stanley, I knew you were a coward," she re-
plied, fiercely and wildly.
"You're always calling names, d— you; do as you
like. I care less than you think how it goes."
"No, Stanley; you know me too well. Ah! No, you
shan't be lost if I can help it." Rachel shook her head
as she spoke, with a bitter smile and a dreadful sigh.
Then they whispered together for three or four minutes,
and Rachel clasped her jewelled fingers tight across her
forehead, quite wildly, for a minute.
"You'll come then? " said Stanley.
She made no answer, and he repeated the question.
By this time she was standing; and without answering,
she began mechanically to get on her cloak and hat.
"You must drink some wine first; he may frighten you,
perhaps. You must take it, Rachel, or I'll not go."
Rachel seemed to have made up her mind to submit
passively to whatever he required. Perhaps, indeed, she
thought there was wisdom in his advice. At all events she
drank some wine.
Rachel Lake was one of those women who never lose
their presence of mind, even under violent agitation, for
long, and who generally, even when highly excited, see,
and do instinctively, and with decision, what is best to be
done; and now, with dilated eyes and white face, she
walked noiselessly into the kitchen, listened there for a
moment, then stole lightly to the servants' sleeping-room,
and listened there at the door, and lastly looked in, and
satisfied herself that both were still sleeping. Then as
cautiously and swiftly she returned to her drawing-room,
and closed the window-shutters and drew the curtain, and
signalling to her brother they went stealthily forth into
the night air, closing the hall-door, and through the little
garden, at the outer gate of which they paused.


100 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"I don't know, Rachel — I don't like it— I'm not fit
for it. Go back again — go in and lock your door —
we'll not go to him — you need not, you know. He may
stay where he is — let him — I'll not return. I'll get
away. I'll consult Larkin — shall • I? Though that
won't do — he's in Wylder's interest — curse him. What
had I best do? I'm not equal to it."
"We must go, Stanley. You said right just now; be
resolute — we are both ruined unless we go. You have
brought it to that— you must come."
"I'm not fit for it, I tell you — I'm not. You were
right, Radie — I think I'm not equal to a business of this
sort, and I won't expose you to such a scene. You're
not equal to it either, I think," and Lake leaned on the
paling.
"Don't mind me — you haven't much hitherto. Go
or stay, I'm equally ruined now, but not equally disgraced;
and go we must, for it is your only chance of escape.
Come, Stanley — for shame!"
In a few minutes more they were walkiri£ in deep dark-
ness and silence, side by side, along the path, which di-
verging from the mill-road, penetrates the coppice of that
sequestered gorge, along the bottom of which flows a trib-
utary brook that finds its way a little lower down into the
mill-stream. This deep gully in character a good deal
resembles Redman's Glen, into which it passes, being ful-
ly as deep, and wooded to the summit at both sides, but
much steeper and narrower, and therefore many shades
darker.
They had now reached those rude stone steps, some ten
or fifteen in number, which conduct the narrow footpath
up a particularly steep acclivity, and here Lake lost cour-
age again, for they distinctly heard the footsteps that
paced the platform above.


CHAPTER
MARK WYLDER'S SLAVE.
NEARLY two hours had passed before they returned.
As they did so, Rachel Lake went swiftly and silently
before her brother. The moon had gone down, and the
glen was darker than ever. Noiselessly they re-entered
the little hall of Redman's Farm. The candles were still
burning in the sitting-room, and the light was dazzling
after the profound darkness in which they had been for so
long.
Rachel sat down. No living woman ever showed a paler
face, and she stared with a look that was sharp and stern
upon the wainscot before her.
For some minutes they were silent; and suddenly, with
an exceeding bitter cry, she stood up, close to him, seizing
him in her tiny hands by the collar, and with wild eyes
gazing into his, she said —
"See what you've brought me to — wretch, wretch,
wretch!"
And she shook him with violence as she spoke. It was
wonderful how that fair young face could look so terrible.
"There, Radie, there," said Lake, disengaging her
fingers. "You're a little hysterical, that's all. It will
be over in a minute; but don't make a row. You're a
good girl, Radie. For Heaven's sake, don't spoil all by
folly now."
He was overawed and deprecatory.
"A slave; only think — a slave! Oh frightful, fright-


102 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
ful! Is it a dream? Oh frightful, frightful! Stanley,
Stanley, it would be mercy to kill me," she broke out
again.
"Now, Eadie, listen to reason, and don't make a noise;
you know wo agreed, you must go; and / can't go with
you."
Lake was cooler by this time, and his sister more excited
than before they went out.
"I used to be brave; my courage I think is gone; but
who'd have imagined what's before me?"
Stanley walked to the window and opened the shutter a
little. He forgot how dark it was. The moon had gone
down. He looked at his watch, and then at Rachel. She
was sitting, and in no calmer state; serene enough in at-
titude, but the terribly wild look was unchanged. He
looked at his watch again, and held it to his ear, and con-
sulted it once more before he placed the tiny gold disk
again in his pocket.
"This won't do," he muttered.
With one of the candles in his hand he went out and
made a hurried, peeping exploration, and soon, for the
rooms were quickly counted in Redman's Farm, he found
her chamber, small, neat, simplex munditiis. Bright
and natty were the chintz curtains, and the little toilet set
out, not inelegantly, and her pet piping-goldfinch asleep
on his perch, with his bit of sugar between the wires of
his cage; her pillow so white and unpressed, with its little
edging of lace. Were slumbers sweet as of old ever to
know it more? What dreams were henceforward to haunt
it? Shadows were standing about that lonely bed
already.
When he came back to the drawing-room, a toilet bottle
of eau de cologne in his hand, with her lacejiandkerchief
he bathed her temples and forehead. There was nothing


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 103
very brotherly in his look as he peered into her pale, sharp
fratures, during the process. It was dark and pallid scru-
tiny of a familiar of the Holy Office, bringing a victim
back to consciousness.
She was quickly better.
"There, don't mind me," she said sharply; and getting
up she looked down at her dress and thin shoes, and seem-
ing to recollect herself, she took the candle he had just set
down, and went swiftly to her room.
Gliding without noise from place to place, she packed a
small black leather bag with a few necessary articles,
changed her dress quickly, put on walking boots, a close
bonnet and thick veil, and taking her purse, she counted
over its contents, and then standing in the midst of the
room looked round it with a great sigh, and strange look,
as if it was all new to her. And she threw back her veil,
and going hurriedly to the toilet, mechanically surveyed
herself in the glass. And she looked fixedly on the pale
features presented to her, and said —
"Rachel Lake, Rachel Lake! what are you now?"
A few minutes later her brother, who had been busy
down stairs, put his head in and asked —
"Will you come with me now, Radie, or do you prefer
to wait here?"
"I'll stay here — that is, in the drawing-room," she
answered, and the face was withdrawn.
In the little hall Stanley looked again at his watch, and
getting quietly out, went swiftly through the tiny garden,
and once upon the mill-road, ran at a rapid pace down to-
wards the town.
The long street of Gylingden stretched dim and silent
before him. Slumber brooded over the little town, and
his steps sounded sharp and hollow among the houses. He
slackened his pace, and tapped sharply at the little window


104 WYLDER'S HAND.
of that modest post-office, at which the young ladies in the
pony carriage had pulled up the day before, and within
which Luke Waggot was wont to sleep in a sort of wooden
box that folded up and appeared to be a chest of drawers
all day. Luk? took care of Mr. Larkin's dogs, and
groomed Mr. Wylder's horse; and "cleaned up" his dog-
cart, for Mark being close about money, and finding that
the thing was to be done more cheaply that way, put up
his horse and dog-cart in the post-office premises, and so
evaded the livery charges of the " Brandon Arms.''
But Luke was not there; and Captain Lake recollecting
his habits and his haunt, hurried on to the " Silver Lion,"
which has its gable towards the common, only about a
hundred steps away, for distances are not great in Gyling-
den. Here were the flow of soul and of stout, long pipes,
long yarns, and tolerably long credits; and the humble
scapegraces of the town restored thither for the pleasures
of a club-life, and often revelled deep into the small hours
of the morning.
So Luke came forth.
"D— it where's the note ?" said the Captain, rummag-
ing uneasily in his pockets.
"You know me — eh?"
"Captain Lake. Yes, sir,"
"Well—oh! here it is."
It was a scrap pencilled on the back of a letter —
"LDKE WAGGOT,— Put the horse to and drive the
dog-cart to the " White House." Look out for me there.
We must catch the up mail train at Dollington. Be live-
ly. If Captain Lake chooses to drive you need not come.
'M. WYLDER."
"I'll drive," said Captain Lake. "Lose no time and
I'll give you half-a-crown."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 105
Luke stuck on his greasy wideawake, and in a few min-
utes more the dog-cart was trundled out into the lane, and
the horse harnessed.
"Easily earned, Luke," said Captain Lake, in his soft
tones.
The Captain had buttoned the collar of his loose coat
across his face, and it was dark beside. But Luke knew
his peculiar smile, and presumed it; so he grinned facetious-
ly as he put the coin in his breeches pocket and thanked
him; and in another minute, the Captain, with a lighted
cigar between his lips, mounted to the seat, took the reins,
the horse bounded off, and away rattled the light convey-
ance, sparks flying from the road, down the deserted street
of Gylingden, and quickly melted in darkness.
That night a spectre stood by old Tamar's bedside, in
shape of her young mistress, and shook her by the shoul-
der, and stooping, said sternly, close in her face —
"Tamar, I'm going away —only for a few days; and
mind this — I'd rather be dead than any creature living
should know it. Little Margery must not suspect —
you'll manage that. Here's the key of my bed-room —
say I'm sick — and you must go in and out, and bring
tea and drinks, and talk and whisper a little, you under-
stand, as you might with a sick person, and keep the
shutters closed; and if Miss Brandon sends to ask me to
the Hall, say I've a headache, and fear I can't go. You
understand me clearly, Tamar?"
"Yes, Miss Radie," answered old Tamar, wonder-
stricken, with a strange expression of fear in her face.
"And listen," she continued, "you must go into my
room, and bring the message back, as if from me, with
my, love to Miss Brandon; and if she or the Vicar's lady
should call to see me, always say I'm asleep and a little
better. You see exactly what I mean?"
5»


CHAPTER XIX.
THE TARN IN THE PARK.
NEXT morning Stanley Lake, at breakfast with tho
lawyer, said —
"A pretty room this is. That bow window is worth all
the pictures in Brandon. To my eye there is no scenery
so sweet as this, at least to breakfast by. These undula-
tions, and all that splendid timber, and the glorious ruins
on that hillock over there! How many beautiful ruins
that picturesque old fellow Cromwell has left us."
"You don't eat your breakfast, though," said the at-
torney, with a charming smile of reproach.
"Ah, thank you; I'm a bad breakfaster; that is," said
Stanley, recollecting that he had made some very credit-
able meals at the same table, "when I smoke so late as I
did last night."
"You drove Mr. Wylder to Dollington?"
"Yes; he's gone to town, he says — yes, the mail train
— to get some diamonds for Miss Brandon — a present
— that ought to have come the day before yesterday. He
says they'll never have them in time unless he goes and
blows them up. Are you in his secrets at all?"
"Something in his confidence, I should hope," said Mr.
Larkin, in rather a lofty and reserved way.
"Oh, yes, of course, in serious matters; but I meant
other things. You know he has been a little bit wild; and
ladies, you know, ladies will bo troublesome sometimes; and


108 WYLDER'S
to say truth, I don't think the diamonds have much to say
to it."
The gracious attorney glanced nt his guest with a
thoroughly business-like and searching eye.
"You don't think there's any, really serious annoyance
— you don't know the party ?" said he.
"I? — oh, dear, no. Wylder has always been very
reserved with me. He told me nothing. If he had, of
course I should not have mentioned it. I only conjecture,
for he really did seem to have a great deal more on
his mind; and he kept me walking back and forward, near
the mill-road, a precious long time. And I really think
once or twice he was going to tell me."
"Oh! you think then, Mr. Lake, there may be some
serious — a — a — well, I should hope not — I do most
earnestly trust not." This was said with upturned eyes
and much unction. "But do you happen, Captain Lake,
to know of any of those unfortunate, those miserable con-
nections which young gentlemen of fashion — eh? It's
very sad. Still it often needs professional advice to solve
such difficulties — it is very sad — oh! is not it sad?"
"Pray, don't let it affect your spirits," said Lake, who
was leaning back in his chair, and looking on the carpet,
about a yard before his lacquered boots, in his usual sly
way. "I may be quite mistaken, you know, but I wished
you to understand — having some little experience of the
world, I'd be only too happy to be of any use, if you
thought my diplomancy could help poor Wylder out of his
trouble — that is, if there really is any. But you don't
know?"
"No" said Mr. Larkin, thoughtfully, with a sharp
glance now and then at the unreadable visage of the.cav-
alry officer. It was evident bis mind was working, and
nothing was heard in the room for a minute but the tap-
ping of his nails on the chair, like a death-watch.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 109
"No," said Mr. Larkin again, "I'm not suspicious
— naturally too much the reverse, I fear; but it certainly
does look odd. Did he tell the family at Brandon?"
"Certainly not, that I heard. He may have mention-
ed it. But I started with him, and we walked together,
under the impression that he was going, as usual, to the
inn, the— what d'ye call it?— " Brandon Arms;" and
it was a sudden thought — now I think of it — for he took
no luggage, though to be sure I dare say he has got clothes
and things in town.".
"And when does he return?"
"In a day or two at furthest," he said.
"I wonder what they'll think of it at Brandon? " said
the attorney, with a cavernous grin of sly enquiry at his
companion, which, recollecting his character, he softened
into a sad sort of smile, and added, "No harm, I dare say;
and, after all, you know, why should there — any man
may have business; and, indeed, it is very likely, after all,
that he really went about the jewels.
"By-the-by," said Lake, rather briskly for him, rum-
maging his pockets, "I'm glad I remembered he gave me
a little note to Chelford. Are any of your people going
to Brandon this morning?"
"111 send it," said the lawyer, eyeing the little pen-
cilled note wistfully, which Lake presented between two
fingers.
"Don't you think it had best go at once ? — there may
be something requiring an answer, and your post leaves,
doesn't it, at twelve?"
"Oh ! an answer, is there? " said Mr. Larkin, draw-
ing it from his pocket, and looking at it again with a per-
ceptible curiosity.
"I really can't say, not having read it, but there may,"
said Captain Lake, who was now and then a little imperti-


H0 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
nent, just to keep Mr. Larkin in his place, and perhaps to
hint that he understood him.
When at the later breakfast, up at Brandon, that ir-
regular pencilled scroll reached Lord Chelford's hand, he
said, as he glanced on the direction —
"This is Mark Wylder's; what does he say?"
"So Mark's gone to town," he said; "but he'll be
back again on Saturday, and in the meantime desires me
to lay his heart at your feet, Dorcas. Will you read the
note?"
"No," said Dorcas, quietly.
Lady Chelford extended her long, shrivelled fingers, on
which glimmered sundry jewels, and made a little nod to
her son, who gave it to her, with a smile. Holding her
glasses to her eyes, the note at a distance, and her head
rather back, she said —
"It is not a pretty billet," and she read in a slow and
grim way: —
"DEAR CHELFORD,— I'm called up to London just for
a day. No lark, but honest business. I'll return on Sat-
urday; and tell Dorcas, with dozens of loves. I would
write to her, but have not a minute for the train.
"Yours, &c.
"M. WYLDER."
"No; it is not pretty," repeated the old lady; and,
indeed, in no sense was it. Before luncheon Captain Lake
arrived.
"So Wylder has run up to town," I said, so soon as
we had shaken hands in the hall.
"Yes; /drove him to Dollington last night; we just
caught the up train."
"He says he'll be back again on Saturday," I said.


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Saturday, is it? He seemed to think — yes — it
would be only a day or so. Some jewels, I think, for
Dorcas. He did not say distinctly; I only conjecture.
Lady Chelford and Miss Brandon, I suppose, in the
drawing-room?''
So to the drawing-room he passed.
"How is Rachel? how is your sister, Captain Lake,
have you seen her to-day?" asked old Lady Chelford,
rather benignantly. She chose to be gracious to the
Lakes.
"Only for a moment, thank you. She has one of her
miserable headaches, poor thing; but she'll be better. she
says, in the afternoon, and hopes to come up here to see
you and Miss Brandon, this evening."
Lord Chelford and I had a pleasant walk that day to
the ruins of Willerton Castle. After this he wished to
make a visit to the Vicar, and so we parted company. I
got into Brandon Park by the pretty gate near Latham.
It was a walk of nearly three miles across the park from
this point to the Hall, and the slopes and hollows of this
noble, undulating plain, came out grandly in the long
shadows and slanting beams of evening. That yellow,
level light has, in my mind, something undefinably glorious
and melancholy, such as to make almost any scenery inter-
esting, and my solitary walk was delightful.
After many devious wanderings. I found, under shelter
of a wonderful little hollow, in which lay, dim and still,
a tarn, reflecting the stems of the trees that rose from its
edge, in a way so clear and beautiful, that, with a smile
and a sigh, I sat myself down upon a rock among the ferns,
and fell into a reverie.
The image of Dorcas rose before me. There is a
strange mystery and power in the apathetic, and in that
unaffected carelessness, even defiance of opinion and criti-


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
cism, which I had seen here for the first time, so beauti-
fully embodied. I was quite sure she both thought and
felt, and could talk, too, if she chose it. What tremendous
self-reliance and disdain must form the basis of a female
character, which accepted misapprehension and depreciation
with an indifference so genuine as to scorn even the trifling
exertion of disclosing its powers.
She could not possibly care for Wylder, any more than
he cared for her. That odd look I detected in the mirror
— what did it mean? and Wylder's confusion about Cap-
tain Lake — what was that; .1 could not comprehend the
situation that was forming. I went over Wylder'a history
in my mind, and Captain Lake's — all I could recollect
of it — but could find no clue, and that horrible visitation
or vision! what was it?
This latter image had just glided in and taken its place
in my waking dream, when I thought I saw reflected in the
pool at my feet, the shape and face which I never could
forget, of the white, long-chinned old man.
For a second I was unable, I think, to lift my eyes
from the water which presented this cadaverous image.
But the figure began to move, and I raised my eyes,
and saw it retreat, with a limping gait, into the thick
copse before me, in the shadow of which it stopped and
turned stiffly round, and directed on me a look of horror,
and then withdrew.
It is all very fine laughing at me and my fancies. I do
not think there are many men who in my situation would
have felt very differently. I recovered myself; I shouted
lustily after him to stay, and then in a sort of half
frightened rage, I pursued him; but I had to get round
the pool, a considerable circuit. I could not tell which
way he had turned on getting into the thicket; and it was
now dusk, the sun having gone down during my reverie.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. H3
So I stopped a little way in the copsewood, which was
growing quite dark, and I shouted there again, peeping
under the branches, and felt queer and much relieved that
nothing answered or appeared.
Looking round me, in a sort of dream, I remembered
suddenly what Wylder had told me of old Lorne Brandon)
to whose portrait this inexplicable phantom bore so power-
ful a resemblance. He was suspected of having murdered
his own son, at the edge of a tarn in the park. This tarn
maybe — and with the thought a deeper and colder shadow
gathered over the ominous hollow in which I stood, and the
rustling in the withered leaves sounded angrily.
I got up as quickly as might be to the higher grounds,
and waited there for a while, and watched for the emergence
of the old man. But it did not appear; and shade after
shade was spreading solemnly over the landscape, and hav-
ing a good way to walk, I began to stride briskly along the
slopes and hollows, in the twilight, now and then looking
into vacancy, over my shoulder.
The little adventure, and the deepening shades, helped
to sadden my homeward walk; and when at last the dusky
outline of the Hall rose before me, it wore a sort of weird
and haunted aspect.
CHAPTER XX.
CAPTAIN LAKE TAKES AN EVENING• STROLL ABOUT
GYLINGDEN.
THE absence of an accustomed face, even though the
owner be nothing very remarkable, is always felt; and


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Wylder was missed, though, sooth to say, not very much
regretted. For the first time we were really a small par-
ty. Miss Lake was not there. The gallant Captain, her
brother, was also absent. The Vicar, and his good little
wife, were at Naunton that evening to hear a missionary
recount his adventures and experiences in Japan, and none
of the neighbors had been called in to fill the empty chairs.
Dorcas Brandon did not contribute much to the talk;
neither, in truth, did I. Old Lady Chelford occasionally
dozed and nodded sternly after tea, waking up and eyeing
people grimly, as though enquiring whether anyone pre-
sumed to suspect her ladyship of having had a nap.
Chelford, I recollect, took a book, and read to us now and
then, a snatch of poetry — I forget what. My book —
except when I was thinking of the tarn and that old man I
so hated — was Miss Brandon's exquisite and mysterious
face.
That young lady was leaning back in her great oak chair,
in which she looked like the heroine of some sad and gor-
geous romance of the old civil wars of England, and direct-
ing a gaze of contemplative and haughty curiosity upon
the old lady, who was unconscious of the daring profa-
nation.
All on a sudden Dorcas Brandon said —
"And pray what do you think of marriage, Lady Chel-
ford?"
"What do I think of marriage?" repeated the dowager,
throwing back her head and eyeing the beautiful heiress
through her gold spectacles, with a stony surprise, for she
was not accustomed to be catechised by young people.
"Marriage? — why 'tis a divine institution. What can
the child mean?"
"Do you think, Lady Chelford, it may be safely con-
tracted, solely to join two estates?" pursued the young
lady.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. H5
"Do I think it may safely be contracted, solely to join
two estates?" repeated the old lady, with a look and car-
riage that plainly showed h'ow entirely she appreciated
the amazing presumption of her interrogatrix.
There was a little pause.
"Certainly," replied Lady Chelford; "that is, of
course, under proper conditions, and with a due sense of
its sacred character and a—a— obligations."
"The first of which is love," continued Miss Brandon;
"the second honor — both involuntary; and the third
obedience^ which springs from them."
Old Lady Chelford coughed, and then rallying, said —
"Very good, miss!"
"And pray, Lady Chelford, what do you think of Mr.
Mark Wylder? " pursued Miss Dorcas.
"I don't see, Miss Brandon, that my thoughts upon
that subject can concern any one but myself," retorted
the old lady, severely, and from an awful altitude. "And
I may say, considering who I am — and my years — and
the manner in which I am usually treated, I am a little sur-
prised at the tone in which you are pleased to question me."
These lust terrible remarks totally failed to overawe
the serene temerity of the grave beauty.
"I assumed, Lady Chelford, as you had interested
yourself in me so far as to originate the idea of my engage-
ment to Mr. Wylder, that you had considered these to me
very' important questions a little, and could give me satis-
factory answers upon points on which my mind has been
employed for some days; and, indeed, I think I've a
right to ask that assistance of you."
"You seem to forget, young lady, that there are times
and places for such discussions; and that to Mr.—a—a—
your visitor (a glance at me,") it can't be very interesting
to listen to this kind of—of —conversation, which is
neither very entertaining, nor very wise."


116 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"I am answerable only for my part of it; and I think
my questions very much to the purpose," said the young
lady, in her low, silvery tones.
"I don't question your good opinion, Miss Brandon, of
your own discretion; but / can't see any profit in now
discussing an engagement of more than two months' stand-
ing, or a marriage, which is fixed to take place only ten
days hence. And I think, sir (glancing again at me,) it
must strike you a little oddly, that I should be invited, in
your presence, to discuss family matters with Miss Dor-
cas Brandon?"
I paused long enough to allow Miss Brandon to speak,
but she did not choose to do so, thinking, I suppose, it
was my business.
"I believe I ought to have withdrawn a little," I said,
very humbly; and old Lady Chelford at the word shot a
gleam of contemptuous triumph at Miss Dorcas; but I
would not acquiesce in the dowager's abusing my conces-
sion, to the prejudice of that beautiful and daring young
lady —" I mean, Lady Chelford, in deference to you, who
are not aware, as Miss Brandon is, that I am one of Mr.
Wylder's oldest and most intimate friends; and at his re-
quest, and with Lord Chelford's approval, have been ad-
vised with, in detail, upon all the arrangements connected
with the approaching marriagel"
"I am not going, at present, to say any more upon
these subjects, because Lady Chelford prefers deferring
our conversation," said this very odd young lady; "but
there is.nothing which either she or I may say, which I
wish to conceal from any friend of Mr. Wylder's."
The idea of Miss Brandon's seriously thinking of with-
drawing from her engagement with Mark Wylder, I con-
fess never entered my mind. Lady Chelford, perhaps,
knew more of the capricious and daring character of the


WYLDER'S HAJVD. H7
ladies of the Brandon line than I, and may have discover-
ed some signs of a coming storm in the oracular questions
which had fallen so harmoniously from those beautiful lips.
As for me, I was puzzled.
Lake's late smoking with Wylder must have disagreed
with him very much indeed, for he seemed more out of
sorts as night approached. He stole away from Mr. Lar-
kin's trellised porch, in the dusk. He marched into the
town rather quickly, like a man who has business on his
hands; but he had none — for he walked by the " Bran-
don Arms.," and halted, and stared at the post-office, as
if he fancied he had something to say there. But no —
there was no need to tap at the window-pane. Some idle
boys were observing the dandy Captain, and he turned
down the short lane that opened on the common, and
sauntered upon the short grass.
Two or three groups, and an invalid visitor or two —
for Gylingden boasts a "spa"— were lounging away the
twilight half-hours there. He seated himself on one of
the rustic seats, and his yellow eyes wandered restlessly
and vaguely along the outline of the beautiful hills.' Then
for nearly ten minutes he smoked — an odd recreation
for a man suffering from the cigars of last night — and
after that, for nearly as long again, he seemed lost in deep
thought, his eyes upon the misty grass before him, and
his small French boot beating time to the music of his
thoughts.
Several groups passed close by him, in their pleasant
circuit. Some wondered what might be the disease of
that pale, peevish-looking gentleman, who sat there so
still, languid, and dejected. Others set him down aa a
gentleman in difficulties of some sort, who was using Gyl-
ingden for a temporary refuge.
When Lake, with a little shudder, for it was .growing


118 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
chill, lifted up his yellow eyes suddenly, and recollected
where he was, the common had grown dark, and was quite
deserted. There were lights in the windows of the
reading-room, and in the billiard-room beneath it; and
shadowy figures, with cues in their hands, gliding hither
and thither, across its uncurtained windows.
With a shrug, and a stealthy glance round him, Cap-
tain Lake started up. The instinct of the lonely and
gloomy man unconsciously drew him towards the light,
and he approached.
Captain Lake, waiting, with his hand on the door-handle,
for the stroke, heard the smack of the balls, and the score
called by the marker. and entered the hot, glaring room.
Old Major Jackson, with his glass in his eye, was contend-
ing in his shirt-sleeves heroically with a Manchester
bag-man, who was palpably too much for him. The
double-chinned and florid proprietor of the "Brandon
Arms," with a brandy-and-water familiarity, offered Cap-
tain Lake two to one on the game in anything he liked,
which the Captain declined, and took his scat on the
bench.
He was not interested by the struggle of the gallant
Major, who smiled like a prize-fighter under his punish-
ment. In fact, he could not have told the score at any
point of the game; and, to judge by his face, was trans-
lated" from the glare of that arena into a dark and splenetic
world of his own.
When he wakened up, in the buzz and clack of tongues
that followed the close of the game, Captain Lake glared
round for a moment, like a man called up from sleep; the
noise rattled and roared in his ears, the talk sounded
madly, and the faces of the people excited and menaced
him undefinably, and he felt as if he was on the point
of starting to his feet and stamping and shouting.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 119
The fact is, I suppose, he was confoundedly nervous, dys-
peptic, or whatever else it might be, and the heat and glare
were too much for him.
So, out he went into the chill, fresh night-air, and round
the corner into the quaint main-street of Gylingden, and
walked down it in the dark, nearly to the last house by
the corner of the Redman's Dell road, and then back again,
and so on, trying to tire himself, I think; and every time
he walked down the street, with his face toward London, his
yellow eyes gleamed through the dark air, with the fixed
gaze of a man looking out for the appearance of a vehicle.
It, perhaps, indicated an anxiety and a mental look-out
in that direction, for he really expected no such thing.
Then he dropped into the "Brandon Arms," and had a
glass of brandy and water, and a newspaper, in the
coffee-room; and then he ordered a "fly," and drove in
it to Lawyer Larkin's house —" The Lodge," it was called
— and entered Mr. Larkin's drawing-room very cheer-
fully.
"How quiet you are here," said the Captain. "I have
been awfully dissipated since I saw you."
"In an innocent way, my dear Captain Lake, you mean,
of course — in an innocent way."
"Oh! no; billiards, I assure you. Do you play?"
"Oh ! dear no — not that I see any essential harm in
tho game as a game, for those, I mean, who don't object
to that sort of thing; but for a resident here, putting
aside other feelings — a resident holding a position — it
'would not do, I assure you. There are people there
whom one could not associate with comfortably. I don't
care, I hope, how poor a man may be, but do let him be a
gentleman. A man, my dear Captain Lake, whose fa-
ther before him has been a gentleman (old Larkin, while
in the flesh, was an organist, and kept a small day school


120 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
at Dwiddleston,) and who has had the education of one.
does not feel himself at home, you know — I'm sure you
have felt the same sort of thing yourself."
"Oh! of course; and I had such a nice walk on tne
common first, and then a turn up and down before the
"Brandon Arms," where at last I read a paper, and could
not resist a glass of brandy and water, and, growing lazy,
came home in a " fly," so I think I have had a very gay
evening."
Larkin smiled benignantly, and would have said some-
thing no doubt worth hearing, but at that moment the
door opened, and bis old cook and elderly parlor-maid,
and Sleddon the groom, walked in, with those sad faces
which, I suppose, were first learned in the belief that they
were acceptable to their master.
"Oh !" said Mr. Larkin, in a low, reverential tone,
and the smile vanished; "prayers!"
"Well, then, if you permit me, being a little tired,
I'll go to my bedroom."
And he lighted a bedroom candle and left the room.
"What a beast that fellow is. I don't know why the
d— I stay in his house."
One reason was, perhaps, that it saved him nearly a
guinea a day, and he may have had some other little rea-
sons just then.
"Family prayers, indeed! and such a pair of women
— witches, by Jove ! — and that rascally groom, and a
hypocritical attorney! And the vulgar brute will be as
rich as Croesus, I dare say."


CHAPTER XXI.
IN WHICH CAPTAIN LAKE VISITS HIS SISTER'S SICK-BED.
CAPTAIN LAKE wanted rest — sleep — quiet thoughts
at all events. When he was alone he was at once in a
state of fever and gloom, and seemed always watching for
something. His strange eyes glanced now this way,'now
that with a fierce restlessness — now to the window — now
to the door — and you would have said he was listening
intently to some indistinct and too distant conversation af-
fecting him vitally, there was such a look of fear-and con-
jecture always in his face.
He bolted his door and unlocked his dressing case, and
from a little silver box in that glittering repository he
took, one after the other, two or three little wafers of a
dark hue, and placed them successively on his tongue, and
suffered them to melt, and so swallowed them. They were
not liquorice. I am afraid Captain Lake dabbled a little
in opium. He was not a great adept — yet, at least —
like those gentlemen who can swallow five hundred drops
of laudanum at a sitting. But he knew the virtues of the
drug, and cultivated its acquaintance, and was oftener un-
der its influence than perhaps any mortal, except himself,
suspected.
Stanley Lake would have given more than he could well
afford that it were that day week, and he no worse off.
Why did time limp so tediously away with him, prolong-
ing his anguish gratuitously? He felt truculently, and
6


122 WVLDER'S HAJVD.
would have murdered that week, if he could, in the midst
of its loitering sunshine and gaiety.
There was a strange pain at his heart, and the pain of
intense and fruitless calculation in his brain; and, as the
Mahometan prays towards Mecca, and the Jew towards
Jerusalem, so Captain Lake's morning orisons, whatsoever
they were, were offered at the window of his bed-room
toward London, from whence he looked for his salvation,
or it might be the other thing — with a dreadful yearn-
ing.
When Lake had ended his'toilet and stared in the glass.
he jtill looked so haggard, that on greeting Mr. Larkin
in the parlor, he thought it necessary to mention that'
he "had taken cold in that confounded billiard-room last
night, which spoiled his sleep, and made him awfully seedy
that morning. Of course, his host was properly afflicted
and sympathetic.
"By-the-bye, I had a letter this morning from that
party — our common friend, Mr. W., you know," said Lar-
kin, gracefully.
"Well, what is he doing, and when does he come back?
You mean Wylder, of course?"
"Yes; my good client, Mr. Mark Wylder. Permit me
to assist you to some honey, you'll find it remarkably good,
I venture to say; it comes from the gardens of Queen's
Audley."
"Thank you — delicious, I'm sure. May I see Wyl-
der's note — that is, if there's no private business?"
"Oh, certainly."
And, with Wylder's great red seal on the back of the
envelope, the letter ran thus : —
"DEAR LARKIN,— I write in haste to save post, to say
I shall be detained in town a few days longer than I thought.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 123
Don't wait for me about the parchments; I am satisfied.
If anything crosses your mind, a word .with Mr. De C. at
the Hall, will clear all up. Have all ready to sign and
seal when I come back — certainly, within a week.
"Yours sincerely,
"M. WYLDER,
'London."
It was evidently written in great haste, with the broad-
nibbed pen he liked; but notwithstanding the sort of swag-
ger with which the writing marched across the page, Lake
might have seen here and there a little quaver — indicative
of something different from haste — the vibrations of an-
other sort of flurry.
"' Certainly within a week,' he writes. Does he mean
he'll be here in a week or only to have the papers ready
in a week?" asked Lake.
"The question, certainly, does arise. . It struck me on
the first perusal," answered the attorney. "His address
is rather a wide one, too — London! Do you know his
club, Captain Lake?"
"' The Wanderers' He has left the' United Service.'
Nothing for me, by the way?"
"No letter. No."
"Tant mieux, I hate them," said the Captain. "I
wonder how my sister is this morning."
"Would you like a messenger? I'll send down with
pleasure to enquire."
"Thank you, no; Til walk down and see her."
And Lake yawned at the window, and then took his hat
and stick and sauntered toward Gylingden. At the post-
office window he tipped with the silver tip of his cane, and
told Miss Driver with a sleepy smile —
"I'm going down to Redman's Farm, and any letters for
my sister, Miss Lake, I may as well take with me."


124 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
There was only one letter — the address was written —
"Miss Lake, Redman's Farm, near Brandon Park, Gyling-
den," in a stiff hand, rather slanting backwards.
Captain Lake put it in his paletot pocket, looked in her
face gently, and smiled, and thanked her in his graceful
way — and, in fact, left an enduring impression upon that
impressible nature.
Turning up the dark road at Redman's Dell, the gallant
Captain passed the old mill, and, all being quiet up and
down the road, he halted under the lordly shadow of a
clump of chestnuts, and opened and read the letter he had
just taken charge of. It contained only these words:—
"Wednesday
"On Friday night, next, at half-past twelve."
This he read twice or thrice, pausing between whiles.
The envelope bore the London postmark. Then he took
out his cigar case, selected a promising weed, and wrapping
the laconic note prettily round one of his scented matches.
lighted it, and the note flamed pale in the daylight, and
dropped, still blazing, at the root of the old tree he stood
by. Having completed his mysterious incremation, he,
with his yellow eyes, made a stolen glance around, and
lighting his cigar, glided gracefully up the steep road, un-
der the solemn canopy of old timber, toward Redman's
Farm.
As he entered the flower-garden, the jaundiced face of
old Tamar, with its thousand small wrinkles and its omi-
nous gleam of suspicion, was looking out from the darken-
ed porch. The white cap, kerchief, and drapery, courte-
sied to him as he drew near, and the dismal face changed
not.
"Well, Tamar, how do you do ? — how are all? Where
is that girl, Margery?"


WVLDER'S HJUfD. 125
"In the kitchen, Master Stanley, "said she courtesying
again.
"Well, come up stairs to your mistress' room," said
Lake, mounting the stairs, with his hat in his hand, and
on tip-toe, like a man approaching a sick chamber.
There was something I think grim and spectral in this
ceremonious ascent to the empty chamber. Children had
once occupied that silent floor, for there was a little bal-
ustraded gate across the top of the staircase.
"I keep this closed," said old Tamar, "and forbid her
to cross it, lest she should disturb the mistress. Heaven
forgive me!"
"Very good," he whispered, and he peeped over the
banister, and then entered Rachel's silent room, darkened
with closed shutters, the white curtains and white coverlet
so like "the dark chamber of white death."
He had intended speaking to Tamar there, but changed
his mind, or rather could not make up his mind; and he
loitered silently, and stood with the curtain in his gloved
hand, looking upon the cold coverlet, as if Rachel lay dead
there.
"That will do," he said, awaking from his wandering
thought. "We'll go down now, Tamar."
And in the same stealthy way, walking lightly and slow-
ly, down the stairs they went, and Stanley entered the
kitchen.
"How do you do, Margery? You'll be glad to hear
your mistress is better. You must run down to the town,
though, and buy some jelly, and you are to bring her back
change of this."
And he placed half-a-crown in her hand.
"Put on your bonnet and my old shawl, child; and
take the basket, and come back by the side door," croak-
ed old Tamar.


126 WYLDER'S HJUfD.
So the girl dried her hands — she was washing the tea-
cups — and in a twinkling was equipped and on her way
to Gylingden.
CHAPTER XXII.
IN WHICH CAPTAIN LAKE MEETS A FRIEND NEAR THE
. WHITE HOUSE.
LAKE had no very high opinion of men or women, gen-
tle or simple.
"She listens, I dare say, the little spy," said he. ,
"No, Master Stanley! She's a good little girl."
"She quite believes her mistress is up stairs — eh?"
"Yes; the Lord forgive me — I'm deceiving her."
He did not like the tone and look which accompanied
this.
"Now, my good old Tamar, you really can't be such
an idiot as to fancy there can be any imaginable wrong in
keeping that prying little slut in ignorance of that which
in no wise concerns her. This is a critical matter, do you
see, and if it were known in this place that your young
mistress had gone away as she has done — though quite
innocently — upon my honor — I think it would blast her.
You would not like, for a stupid crotchet, to ruin poor
Badie, I fancy."
"I'm doing just what you both bid me," said the old
woman.
"You sit up stairs chiefly?"
She nodded sadly.
"And keep the hall door shut and bolted?"
Again she nodded.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 127
"I'm going up to the Hall, and I'll tell them she's
much better, and that I've been in her room, and that,
perhaps, she may go up to see them in the morning."
"How long is all this to go on for, Master Stanley?"
"Why, d — you, Tamar, can't you listen?" he said,
clutching her wrist in his lavender kid grasp rather rough-
ly. "How long — a very short time, I tell you. She'll
be home immediately. I'll come to-morrow and tell
yea exactly — maybe to-morrow evening — will that do?
And should they call, you must say the same; and if Miss
Dorcas — Miss Brandon, you know — should wish to go
•up to see her, tell her she's asleep. Stop that hypocriti-
cal grimacing, will you. It is no part of your duty to
tell the world what can't possibly concern them, and may
bring your young mistress to — perdition. That does
not strike me as any part of your religion."
Tamar groaned again, and she said: "I opened my Bi-
ble, Lord help me, three times to-day, Master Stanley,
and could not go on. It's no use — I can't read it."
"Time enough — I think you've read more than is
good for you. I think you are half mad, Tamar; but
think what you may, it must be done. Have not you
read of straining at gnats and swallowing camels? You
used not, I've heard, to be always so scrupulous, old
Tamar."
There was a vile sarcasm in his tone and look.
"It is not for the child I nursed to say that," said Ta-
mar.
There were scandalous stories of wicked old Tiberius —
bankrupt, dead and buried — compromising the fame of
Tamar — not always a spectacled and cadaverous student
of Holy Writ. These, indeed, were even in Stanley's
childhood, old-world, hazy traditions of the servants' hall.
But boys hear often more than is good, and more than


128 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
gospel, who live in such houses as old General Lake, the
millionaire widower, kept.
"I did not mean anything, upon my honor, Tamar,
that could annoy you. I only meant you used not to be
a fool, and pray don't begin now; for I assure you Radio
and I would not ask it, if it could be avoided. You have
Miss Radie's secret in your hands. I don't think you'd
like to injure her, and you used to be trustworthy. I
don't think your Bible teaches you anywhere to hurt your
neighbor and to break faith."
"Don't speak of the Bible now; but you needn't fear
me, Master Stanley," answered the old woman, a little
sternly. "I don't know why she's gone, nor why it's a
secret — I don't, and I'd rather not, and I'll do as you
bid me, and I have done, Master Stanley, howsoever it
troubles my mind; and now old Tamar's word's spoke —
that's all."
"Old Tamar is a sensible creature, as she always was.
I hope I did not vex you, Tamar. I did not mean, I
assure you; but we get rough ways in the army, I'm
afraid, and you won't mind me. You never did mind lit-
tle Stannie when he was naughty, you know."
There was here a little subsidence in his speech. He
was thinking of giving her a crown, but there were sever-
al reasons against it, so that handsome coin remained in his
purse.
"And I forgot to tell you, Tamar, I've a ring for you
in town — a little souvenir; you'll think it pretty — a
gold ring with a stone in it — it belonged to poor dear
Aunt Jemima, you remember. I left it behind; so stu-
pid!"
So he shook hands with old Tamar, and patted her af-
fectionately on the shoulder, and he said:
"Keep the hall door bolted. Make any excuse you


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 129
like; only it would not do for any one to open it, and
run up to the room as they might, so don't forget to se-
cure the door when I go. I think that is all. Ta-ta,
dear Tamar. I'll see you in the morning."
As he walked down the mill-road toward the town, he
met Lord Chelford on his way to make enquiry about Ra-
chel at Redman's Farm; and Lake, who, as we know, had
just seen his sister, gave him all particulars.
Chelford, like the lawyer, had heard from Mark Wyl-
der that morning — a few lines, postponing his return.
He merely mentioned it, and made no comment; but Lake
perceived that he was annoyed at his unexplained absence.
Lake dined at Brandon that evening, and though look-
ing ill, was very good company, and promised to bring an
early report of Rachel's convalescence in the morning.
I have little to record of next day, except that Larkin
received another London letter. Wylder plainly wrote
in great haste, and merely said: —
"I shall have to wait a day or two longer than I yes-
terday thought, to meet a fellow from whom I am to re-
ceive something of importance, rather, as I think, to me.
Get the deeds ready, as I said in my last. If I am not
in Gylingden by Monday, we must put off the wedding for
a week later—there is no help for it. You need not talk
of this. I write to Chelford to say the same."
This note was unceremonious, and still shorter. Lord
Chelford would have written at once to remonstrate with
Mark on the unseemliness of putting off his marriage so
capriciously, or, at all events, BO mysteriously — Miss
Brandon not being considered, nor her friends consulted.
But Mark had no fancy to be worried, when he had made
up his mind, by prosy remonstrances; he shut out the
whole tribe of letter-writers by simply omitting to give
them his address.
9 •


130 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Like most rustic communities, Gylingden and its neigh-
borhood were early in bed. Few lights burned alter
half-past ten, and the whole vicinity was deep in its slum-
bers before twelve o'clock. ,'
At that dread hour, Captain Lake, about a mile on the
Dollington, which was the old London road from Gyling-
den, was pacing backward and forward under the tower-
ing files of beech that overarch it at that point.
Stanley Lake did not. like waiting any more than did
Louis XIV. He was really a little tired of acting sen-
try, and waa very peevish by the time the ring of wheels
and horse-hoofs approaching from the London direction
became audible. Even so, he had a longer wait than he
expected, sounds are heard so far by night. At last,
- however, it drew nearer — nearer — quite close — and a
sort of nondescript vehicle — one horsed — loomed in the
dark, and he calls —
"Hallo! there — I say — a passenger for the ' White
House?'
At the same moment, a window of the cab — shall we
call it — was let down, and a female voice — Rachel
Lake's — called to the driver to stop.
Lake addressed the driver -—
"You come from Johnson's Hotel — don't you — at
Dollington?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I'll pay you half-fare to bring me there."
"All right, sir. But the 'oss, sir, must 'av 'is oats
fust."
"Feed him here, then. They are all asleep in the
'White House.' I'll be with you in five minutes, and
you shall have something for yourself when we get into
Dollington."
Stanley opened the door. She placed her hand on his,


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
and stepped to the ground. It was very dark under those
great trees. He held her hand a little harder than was
his wont.
"All quite well, ever since. You are not very tired,
are you? I'm afraid it will be necessary for you to walk
to 'Redman's Farm,' dear Radio — but it is hardly a
mile, I think — for, you see, the fellow must not know
who you are; and I must go back with him, for I have
not been very well — indeed I've been, I may say, very
ill — and I told that fellow, Larkin, who has his eyes
about him, and would wonder what kept me out so late,
that I would run down to some of the places near for a
change, and sleep a night there; and that's the reason,
dear Radio, I can walk only a short way with you; but
you are not afraid to walk a part of the way home with-
out me? You are so sensible, and you have been, really,
so very kind, I assure you I appreciate it, Radie — I do,
indeed; and I'm very grateful — I am, upon my word."
Rachel answered with a heavy sigh.
, CAAPTER XXIII.
HOW RACHEL SLEPT THAT NIGHT IN REDMAN'S FARM.
"ALLOW me — pray do," and he took her little bag
from her hand. I hope you are not very tired, darling;
you've been so very good; and your not afraid — you
know the place is so quiet — of the little walk by your-,
self. Take my arm; I'll go as far as I can, but it is
very late you know — and you are sure you are not
afraid?"


182 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"I ought to be afraid of nothing now, Stanley, but I
think I am afraid of everything.''
"Merely a little nervous—it's nothing—I've been
wretchedly since, myself; but, I'm so glad you are home
again; you shall have no more trouble, I assure you;
and not a creature suspects you have been from home.
Old Tamar has behaved admirably."
Rachel sighed again, and said —
"Yea — poor Tamar."
"And now, dear, I'm afraid I must leave you—I'm
very sorry; but you see how it is; keep to the shady
side, close by the hedge, where the trees stop; but I'm
certain you will meet no one. Tamar will tell you who
has called — hardly anyone — I saw them myself every
day at Brandon, and told them you were ill. You've
been very kind, Radie; I assure you I'll never forgot it.
You'll find Tamar up and watching for you — I arranged
all that; and I need not say you'll be very careful not to
let that little girl of yours hear anything. Good-night,
Kadie; God bless you, dear. I wish very much I could
see y«u all the way, but there's a risk in it, you know.
Good-night, dear Radie. By-the-bye, here's your bag;
I'll take the rug, it's too heavy for you, and I may as
well have it to Dollington."
He kissed her cheek in his slight way, and left her,
and was soon on his way to Dollington, where he slept
that night — rather more comfortably than he had done
since Rachel's departure.
Rachel walked on swiftly. Very tired, but not at all
sleepy — on the contrary, excited and nervous, and rather
relieved, notwithstanding that Stanley had left her to
walk home alone.
It seemed to her that more than a month h:id passed
since she saw the mill road last. How much had hap-


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 133
pened! how awful was the change! Familiar objects gli-
ded past her, the same, yet the fashion of the countenance
was altered; there was something estranged and threaten-
ing.
The pretty parsonage was now close by: in the dews of
night the spirit of peace and slumber smiled over it; but
the sight of its steep roof and homely chimney-stacks
smote with a shock at her brain and heart — a troubled
moan escappd her. She looked up with the instinct of
prayer, and clasped her hands on the handle of that little
bag which had made the mysterious journey with her; a
load which no man could lift lay upon her heart.
Then she commenced her dark walk up the mill, road
—her hands still clasped, her lips moving in broken ap-
peals to Heaven. She looked neither to the right nor to
the left, but passed on with inflexible gaze and hasty steps,
like one wlio crosses a plank over some awful chasm.
Old Tamar, with her shawl over her head, sat listening
for her young mistress's approach, on the little side-bench
in the trelliscd porch, and tottered hastily forth to meet
her at the garden wicket, whispering forlorn welcomes
and thanksgivings, which Rachel answered only with a
kiss.
The hall-door was now shut and bolted. Wise old Ta-
mar had turned the key upon the sleeping girl. There
was nothing to be feared from prying eyes and listening
ears.
"You are cold, Miss Radie, and tired—poor thing! I
lit a bit of fire in your room, miss; would you like me to
go up stairs with you. miss?"
"Come."
And so up-stairs they went; and the young lady looked
round with a strange anxiety, like a person seeking for
something, and forgetting what; and, sitting down, she


184 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
leaned her head on her hand with a moan, the living pic-
ture of despair.
"You've a headache, Miss Radio?" said the old woman,
standing by her with that painful enquiry which sat nat-
urally on her face.
"A heartache, Tamar."
"Let me help you off with these things, Miss Radie,
dear."
The young lady did not seem to hear, but she allowed
Tamar to remove her cloak and hat and handkerchief.
The old servant had placed the tea-things on the table,
and what remained of that wine of which Stanley had
partaken on the night from which the eclipse of Rachel's
life dated. So, without troubling her with questions, she
made tea, and then some negus, with careful and trembling
hands.
"No," said Rachel, a little pettishly, and put it aside.
"See now, Miss Radie, dear. You look awful sick
and tired. You are tired to death and pale, and sorry,
my dear child; and to please old Tamar, you'll just drink
this."
"Thank you, Tamar, I believe you are right."
The truth was she needed it; and in the same dejected
way she sipped it slowly; and then there was a long sil-
ence — the silence of a fatigue, like that of fever, near
which sleep refuses to come. But she sat in that waking
lethargy in which are sluggish dreams of horror, and
neither eyes nor ears for that which is before us.
When at last, with another great•sigh, she lifted her
head, her eyes rested on old Tamar's face, at the other •
side of the firerplace, with a dark, dull surprise and puz-
zle for a moment, as if she could not tell why she was
there, or where the place was; and then rising up, with
piteous look in her old nurse's face, she said, "Oh! Ta-
mar, Tamar. It is a dreadful world."


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 135
"So it is, Miss Radie," answered the old woman, her
glittering eyes returning her sad gaze wofully. "Aye, so
it is, sure ! — and such it was and will be. For so the
Scripture says— " Cursed is the ground for thy sake"
— hard to the body — a vale of tears — dark to the spir-
it. But it is the hand of God that is upon you, and, like
me, you will say at last, 'it is good for me that I have
been in trouble.' Lie down, dear Miss Radie, and I'll read
to you the blessed words of comfort that have been sealed
for me ever since I saw you last. They have —but that's
over."
And she turned up her pallid, puckered face, and, with
a trembling and knotted pair of hands uplifted, she mut-
tered an awful thanksgiving.
Rachel said nothing, but her eyes rested on the floor,
and, with the quiet obedience of her early childhood, she
did as Tamar said. And the old woman assisted her to
undress, and so she lay down with a sigh in her bed. And
Tamar, her round spectacles by this time on her nose, sit-
ting at the little table by her pillow, read, in a solemn and
somewhat quavering voice, such comfortable passages as
came first to memory.
Rachel cried quietly as she listened, and at last, worn
out by many feverish nights, and the fatigues of her jour-
ney, she fell into a disturbed slumber, with many startings
and sudden wakings, with cries and strange excitement.
Old Tamar would not leave her, but kept her seat in
the high-backed arm-chair throughout the night, like a
nurse — as indeed she was — in a sick chamber. And so
that weary night limped tediously, away, and morning
dawned, and tipped the discolored foliage of the glen with
its glow, awaking the songs of all the birds, and dispers-
ing the white mists of darkness. And Rachel, with- a
start awoke, and sat up with a wild look, and a cry —


136 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
-
"What is it?"
"Nothing, dear Miss Radie — only poor old Tamar."
And a new day had begun.
CHAPTER XXIV.
DORCAS BRANDON PAYS RACHEL A VISIT.
IT was not much past eleven that morning when the
pony carriage from Brandon drew up before the little gar-
den wicket of Redman's farm. The servant held the po-
nies' heads, and Miss Dorcas passed through the little
garden, and met old Tamar in the porch.
"Better to-day, Tamar?" enquired this grand and
beautiful young lady.
The sun glimmered through the boughs behind her;
her face was in shade, and its delicate chiselling was
brought out in soft reflected lights; and old Tamar looked
on her in a sort of wonder, her beauty seemed so celestial
and splendid.
"Well, she was better, though she had had a bad
night. She was up and dressed, and this moment coming
down, and would be very happy to see Miss Brandon, if
she would step into the drawing-room.
Miss Brandon took old Tamar's hand gently and press-
ed it. I suppose she was glad and took this way of show-
ing it; and tall, beautiful, graceful, in rustling silks, she
glided into the tiny drawing-room silently, and sat down
softly by the window, looking out upon the flowers and
the falling leaves, mottled in light and shadow.
There came a step and a little rustling of feminine dra-
peries, the small door opened, and Rachel entered, with
her hand extended, and a pale smile of welcome.


WYLDER'S HAXTD. 137
Women can hade their pain better than we men, and
bear it better, too, except when shame drops fire into the
dreadful chalice. But poor Rachel Lake had more than
that stoical hypocrisy which enables the tortured spirits
of her sex to lift a pale face through the flames and
smile.
She was sanguine, she was genial and companionable,
and her spirits rose at the sight of a friendly face. This
transient spring and lighting up are beautiful — a glamour
beguiling our senses.
"Rachel, dear, I'm so glad to see you," said Dorcas,
placing her arms gently about her neck, and kissing her
twice or thrice. There was something of sweetness and
fondness in her tones and manner, which was new to
Rachel, and she returned the greeting as kindly, and felt
more like her former self. "You have been more ill than
I thought, darling, and you are still from quite recover-
ed."
Rachel's pale and sharpened features and dilated eye
struck her with a painful surprise.
"I shall soon be as well as I am ever likely to be — that
is, quite well," answered Rachel. "You have been very
kind. I've heard of your coming here, and sending, so
often."
They sat down side by side, and Dorcas held her
hand.
"Maybe, Rachel dear, you would like to drive a
little?"
, "No, darling, not yet; it is very good of you."
"You have been so ill, my poor Rachel."
"111 and troubled, dear—troubled in mind, and misera-
bly nervous."
Poor Rachel! her nature recoiled from deceit, and she
told, at all events as much of the truth as she dared.


138 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Dorcas' large eyes rested upon her with a grave enquiry,
and then Miss Brandon looked down in silence for a while
on the carpet, and was thinking a little sternly, maybe,
and with a look of pain, still holding Rachel's hand, she
said, with a sad sort of reproach in her tone,
"Rachel, dear, you have not told my secret?"
"No, indeed, Dorcas — never, and never will; and I
think, though I have learned to fear death, I would rather
die than let Stanley even suspect it."
She spoke with a sudden energy, which partook of fear
and passion, and flushed her thin cheek, and made her
languid eyes flash.
"Thank you, Rachel, my cousin Rachel, my only
friend. I ought not to have doubted you," and she kissed
her again. "Chelford had a note from Mr. Wylder this
morning — another note — his coming delayed, and some-
thing of his having to see some person who is abroad,"
continued Dorcas, after a little pause. "You have heard,
of course, of Mr. Wylder's absence?"
"Yes, something—everything * said Rachel, hurriedly,
looking frowningly at a flower which she was twirling in
her fingers.
"He chose an unlucky moment for his departure. I
meant to speak to him and end all between us; and I
would now write, but there is no address to his letters. I
think Lady Chelford and her son begin to 11:ink there is
more in this oddly-timed journey of Mr. •Wylder's than
first appeared. When I came into the parlor this morning
I knew they were speaking of it. If he does not return in
a day or two, Chelford, I am sure, will speak to me, and
then I shall tell him my resolution."
"Yes," said Rachel.
"I don't understand his absence. I think they are
puzzled, too. Can you conjecture why he is gone?"


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 139
Rachel made no answer, but rose with a dreamy look, as
if gazing at some distant object among the dark masses of
forest trees, and stood before the window so looking across
the tiny garden.
"I don't think, Rachel dear, you heard me?" said
Dorcas.
"Can I conjecture why he is gone ?" murmured Rachel,
still gazing with a wild kind of apathy into distance.
"Can I? What can it now be to you or me — why?
There are many things best not conjectured about at all
— some interesting, some abominable, some that pass all
comprehension: I never mean to conjecture, if I can
help it again."
And the wan oracle having spoken, she sat down in the
same sort of abstraction again beside Dorcas, and she
looked full in her cousin's eyes.
"I made you a voluntary promise, Dorcas, and now
you will make me one. Of Mark Wylder I say this:
his name has been for years hateful to me, and recently
it has become frightful; and you will promise me simply
this, that you will never ask me to speak again about
him. Be he near, or be he far, I regard his very name
with horror."
Dorcas returned her gaze with one of haughty amaze-
ment; and Rachel said,
"Well, Dorcas, you promise?"
"You speak truly, Rachel, you have a right to my
promise: I give it."
"Dorcas, you are changed; have I lost your love for
asking so poor a kindness?"
"I'm only disappointed, Rachel; I thought you would
have trusted me, as I do you."
"It is an antipathy —an antipathy I cannot get over,
dear Dorcas; you may think it a madness, but don't


140 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
blame me. Remember I am neither well nor happy, and
forgive what you cannot like in me. I have very few to
love me now, and I thought you might love me, as I have
begun to love you. Oh! Dorcas, darling, don't forsake
me; I am very lonely here, and my spirits are gone, and
I never needed kindness so much before."
And she threw her arms round her cousin's neck, and
brave Rachel at last burst into tears.
Dorcas, in her strange way, was moved.
"I like you still, Rachel; I'm sure I'll always like
you. You resemble me, Rachel: you are fearless and
inflexible and generous. That spirit belongs to the blood
of our strange race: all our women were so. Yes, Ra-
chel, I do love you. I was wounded to find you had
thoughts you would not trust to me; but I have made the
promise, and I'll keep it; and I love you all the same."
'' Thank you, Dorcas, dear. I like to call you cous-
in — kindred is so pleasant. Thank you, from my heart,
for your love; you will never know, perhaps, how much'
it is to me."
The young queen looked on her kindly, but sadly,
through her large, strange eyes, clouded with a pressage
of futurity, and she kissed her again, and said —
"Rachel, dear, I have a plan for you and me: we
shall be old maids, you and I, and live together like the
ladies of Llangollen, careless and happy recluses. I'll
let Brandon and abdicate. We will make a little tour
together, when all this shall have blown over, in a few
weeks, and choose our retreat; and with the winter's
snow we'll vanish from Brandon, and appear with the
early flowers at our cottage among the beautiful woods
and hills of Wales. Will you come, Rachel?"
At sight of this castle or cottage in the air, Rachel
lighted up. The little whim had something tranquilizmg


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 141
and balmy. It was escape flight from Gylingden — flight
from Brandon — flight from Redman's Farm: they
and all their hated associations would be far behind,
and that awful page in her story, not torn out, in-
deed, but gummed down as it were, and no longer
glaring and glowering in her eyes every moment of her
waking life.
CHAPTER XXV.
CAPTAIN LAKE LOOKS IN AT NIGHTFALL
IN the queer little drawing-room of Redman's Farm it
was twilight, so dense were the shadows from the great old
chestnuts that surrounded it, before the sun was well be-
neath the horizon; and you could, from its darkened win-
dow, see its red beams still tinting the high grounds of
Willerston, visible through the stems of the old trees that
were massed in the near foregronnd.
A figure which had lost its energy — a face stamped
with the lines and pallor of a dejection almost guilty —
with something of the fallen grace and beauty of poor
Margaret, as we see her with her forehead leaning on her
slender hand, by the stirless spinning-wheel — the image
of a strange and ineffaceable sorrow, sat Rachel Lake.
Tamar might glide in and out; her mistress did not
speak; the shadows deepened round her, but she did not
look up, nor call, in the old cheerful accents, for lights.
No more roulades and ringing chords from the piano — no
more clear spirited tones of the lady's voice sounded
through the low ceilings of Redman's Farm, and thrilled


142 WYLDER'S HAND.
with a haunting melody the deserted glen, wherein the
birds had ended their vesper songs and gone to rest.
A step was heard at the threshold — it entered the
hall; the door of the little chamber opened, and Stanley
Lake entered, saying in a doubtful, almost timid way —
"It is I, Radio, come to thank you, and just to ask
you how you do, and to say I'll never forget your kind-
ness; upon my honor, I never can."
Rachel shuddered as the door opened, and there was a
ghastly sort of expectation in her look. Imperfectly as
it was seen, he could understand it. She did not bid him
welcome or even speak. There was a silence.
"Now, you're not angry with me, Radie dear; I ven-
ture to sny I suffer more than you: and how could I
have anticipated the strange turn things have taken?
You know how it all came about, and you must see I'm not
really to blame, at least in intention, for all this mis-
erable trouble. Come, Radie, let by-gones be by-gones.
There's a good girl; won't you?"
"Aye, by-gones are by-gones; the past is, indeed, im-
mutable; and the future is equally fixed, and more dread-
ful."
"Come, Radie; a clever girl like you can make your
own future."
"And what do you want of me now?" she asked, with
a fierce cold stare.
"But I did not say I wanted anything."
"Of course you do, or I should not have seen you.
Mark me though, I'll go no further in the long route of
wickedness you seem to have marked' out for me. I'm
sacrificed, it is true, but I won't renew my hourly hor-
rors, and live under the rule of your diabolical selfish-
ness."
"I don't know really, Radie, why you should talk as


WVLDER'S HAJVD. 143
you do. I don't want you to do anything — upon my
honor I don't— only just to exercise your common sense
— and you have lots of sense, Radie. Don't you know
very well, in a small place like this, they are all alive
with curiosity? and if you choose to make such a tragedy
figure, and keep moping and crying, and all that sort of
thing, and look so funeste and miserable, you'll be sure to
fix attention and set the whole d—d place speculating and
gossiping? and really, Radie, you're making mountains
of mole-hills. It is because you live so solitary here,
and it is such a gloomy out-o'-the-way spot — so awfully
dark and damp, nobody could be well here, and you real-
ly must change. It is the very temple of blue-devilry,
and I assure you if I lived as you do I'd cut my throat
before a month — you musn't. And old Tamar, you
know, such a figure! She gives me the horrors, I assure
you, whenever I look at her; you must not keep her,
she's of no earthly use, poor old thing; and, you know,
Radie, we're not rich enough — you and I — to support
other people. You must really place yourself more cheer-
fully, and I'll speak to Chelford about Tamar. There's
a very nice place — an asylum, or something, for old
women — near — ^Dollington he was going to say. but
the associations were nof pleasant) — near some of those
little towns close to this, and he's a visitor, or governor,
or whatever they call it. It is really not fair to expect
you or me to keep people like that."
"She has not cost you much hitherto, Stanley, and she
will give you very little trouble hereafter. I won't part
with Tamar.
"She has not cost me much ?" said Lake, whose temper
was not of a kind to pass by anything. "No; of course,
she has not. / can't afford a guinea. You're poor
enough; but in proportion to my expenses — I'm a


144 WYLDER'S
a great deal poorer than you; and I never said I gave her
sixpence, did I? I have not got it to give, and I don't
think she's fool enough to expect it; and, to say the
truth, I don't care. I only advise you. There are some
cheerful little cottages near the Green, in Gylingden, and
I venture to think, this is one of the very gloomiest
and most uncomfortable places you could have selected to
live in."
Rachel looked drearily toward the window and sighed
— it was almost a groan.
"It was cheerful always till this frightful week changed
everything. Oh! why, why, why did you ever come?"
She threw hack her pale face, biting her lip, and even in
that deepening gloom her small pearly teeth glimmered
white; and then she burst into sobs and an agony of
tears.
Captain Lake knew something of feminine paroxysms.
Rachel was not given to hysterics. He knew this burst
of anguish was unaffected. He was rather glad of it.
When it was over he expected clearer weather and a calm.
So ho waited, saying now and then a soothing word or
two. "There — there — there, Radio — there's a good
girl. Never mind — there — there."
With Rachel this weakness did not last long. It was a
gust—violent—soon over; and the "o'er-charged"
heart and brain were relieved. And she pushed open the
window, and stood for a moment in the chill air, and
sighed, and whispered a word or two over the closing
flowers of her little garden toward the darkening glen,
and with another great sigh closed the window, and re-
turned.
"Can I do anything, Radie? You're better now. I
knew you would be. Shall I get some water from your
room?"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 145
"No, Stanley; no, thank you. I'm very well now,"
she said, gently.
"Yes, I think so. I knew you'd be better." And
he patted her shoulder with his soft hand; and then fol-
lowed a short silence.
"I wish you were more pleasantly lodged, Radio; but
we can speak of that another time."
"Yes — you're right. This place is dreadful, and its
darkness dreadful; but light is still more dreadful now,
and I think I'll change; but, as you say, there is time
enough to think of all that."
"Quite so — time enough. By-the-by, Radie, you
mentioned our old servant, whom my father thought so
highly of—Jim Button — the other evening. I've been
thinking of him, do you know, and I should like to find
him out. He was a very honest fellow, and attached, and a
clever fellow, too, my father thought; and he was a good
judge. Hadn't you a. letter from his mother lately?
You told me so, I think; and if it is not too much trouble,
dear Radie, would you allow me to see it?"
Rachel opened her desk, and silently selected one of
those clumsy and original missives, directed in a stagger-
ing, round hand, on paper oddly shaped and thick, such
as mixes not naturally with the aristocratic fabric, on
which crests and ciphers are impressed, and placed it in
her brother's hand.
"But you can't read it without light," said Rachel.
"No; but there's no hurry. Does she say where she
is staying, or her son?"
"Both, I think," answered Rachel, languidly; "but
he'll never make a servant for you — he's a rough crea-
ture, she says, and was a groom. You can't remember
him, nor I either."
"Perhaps — very likely;" and he put the letter in his
jocket. 7


WYLDER'S HJlJVD. 147
can't — sooner or later. It is in motion already — d —
him — it's coming; and you expect me to do everything
alone."
"I repeat it, Stanley," said Rachel, with a fierce cyn-
icism in her low tones, "you don't want advice: you have
formed ycur plan, whatever it is, and that plan you will
follow, and no other, though men and angels were united
to dissuade you."
There was a pause here, and a silence for a good many
seconds.
"Well, perhaps, I have formed an outline of a plan,
and it strikes me as very well I have — for I don't think
you are likely to take that trouble. I only want to ex-
plain it, and get your advice, and any little assistance
you can give me; and surely that is not unreasonable?"
"I have learned one secret, and am exposed to one dan-
ger. I have taken — to save you — *t may be only a
respite — one step, the remembrance of which is insup-
portable. But I was passive. I am fallen from light into
darkness. There ends my share in your confidence and
your fortunes. I will know no more secrets — no more
disgrace; do what you will, you shall never use me
again."
"Suppose these heroics of yours, Miss Radie, should
contribute to bring about — to bring about the worst,"
said Stanley, with a sneer, through which his voice trem-
bled.
"Let it come — my resolution is taken."
Stanley walked to the window, and in his easy way, as
he would across a drawing-room to stand by a piano, and
he looked out upon the trees, whose tops stood motionless
against the darkened sky, like masses of ruins. Then he
came back as gently as he had gone, and stood beside his
sister; she could not see his yellow eyes now as he stood
with his back to the window.


148 WYLDEB'S
"Well, Radie, dear — you have put your hand to the
plough, and you shan't turn back now."
"You seem, sir, to fancy that I have no right to choose
for myself," said Miss Rachel, spiritedly.
"Now, Radie, you must be reasonable — who have I to
advise with?"
"Not me, Stanley — keep your plots and your secrets
to yourself. In the guilty path you have opened for mo
one step more I will never tread."
"You'll see that you must, though. You'll see it in
a little while. Self-preservation, dear Radie, is the first
law of nature."
"For yourself, Stanley; and for me, self-sacrifice,"
she retorted, bitterly.
"Well, Radie, I may as well tell you one thing that
I'm resolved to carry out," said Lake, with a dreamy
serenity, looking on the dark carpet. "Do you recollect,
Radie, what I said that morning when I first called here,
and saw you?"
"Perhaps I do, but I don't know what you mean,"
answered she.
"I said he should go abroad, and so he shall," said
Lake, in a very low tone, with a grim oath.
"Why do you talk that way? You terrify me," said
Rachel, with one hand raised toward his face with a ges-
ture of horror and entreaty, and the other closed upon his
wrist.
"I say he shall, Radie."
"Has he lost his wits? I can't comprehend you — you
frighten me, Stanley. You're talking wildly on purpose,
I believe, to terrify me. You know the state I'm in —
sleepless — half wild — all alone here. You're talking
like a maniac. It's cruel — it's cowardly."
"I mean to do it — you'll see."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 149
Suddenly she harried by him, and in a moment was in
the little kitchen, with its fire and candle burning cheer-
ily. Stanley Lake was at her shoulder as she entered,
and both were white with agitation.
Old Tamar rose up affrighted, her stiff arms raised, and
uttered a blessing. She did not know what to make of it.
Rachel sat down upon one of the kitchen chairs, scarce
knowing what she did, and Stanley Lake halted near the
threshold — gazing for a moment as wildly as she, with
the ghost of his sly smile on his smooth, cadaverous face.
"What ails her — is she ill, Master Stanley?" asked
the old woman, returning with her white eyes the young
man's strange yellow glare.
"I — I don't know — maybe — give her some water,"
said Lake.
"Glass of water — quick, child," cried old Tamar to
Margery.
"Put it on the table," said Rachel, collected now, but
pale, and somewhat stern.
"And now, Stanley, dear," said she, for just then she
was past caring for the presence of the servants, "I hope
we understand one another — at least that you do me. If
not, it is not for want of distinctness on my part; and I
think you had better leave me for the present, for, to say
truth, I do not feel very well."
"Good-night, Radio — good-night, old Tamar. I hope,
Radie, you'll be better — every way — when next I see
you. Good-night."


CHAPTER XXVI.
CAPTAIN LAKE FOLLOWS TO LONDON.
WYLDER'S levanting in this way was, singularly discon-
certing. The time >was growing short. He wrote with a
stupid good-humor, and an insolent brevity which took no
account of Miss Brandon's position, or of her noble rela-
tives. Lord Chelford plainly thought more than he cared
to say; and his mother, who never minced matters, said
perhaps more than she quite thought.
"Lake has gone up to town this morning — some busi-
ness with his banker about his commission — and he says
he will make Wylder out on his arrival, and write to me,"
said Lord Chelford.
Old Lady Chelford glanced across her shoulder at Dor-
cas, who leaned back in a great chair by the window,
listlessly turning over a book.
"She's a strange girl, she does not seem to feel her
situation — a most painful and critical one. That low,
coarse creature must be looked up somehow."
So, in a quiet key, Miss Dorcas being at a distance,
though in the same room, the dowager and her son discuss-
ed this unpleasant and very nervous topic.
That evening Captain Lake was in London, comfortably
quartered in a private hotel, in one of the streets off Pic-
cadilly. He went to his club and dined better than he had
done for many days. He really enjoyed his three little
courses — his pint of claret, his cup of cafS noir and his
chasse; the great Babylon was his Jerusalem, and his
spirit found rest there.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 151
I
After dinner he got into a cab, and drove to Mark
Wylder's club. Was he there? — No. Had he been
there to-day? No. Or within the last week? No;
not for two months. He had left his address, and was in
the country. The address to which his letters were for-
warded was " The Brandon Arms, Gylingden."
So Captain Lake informed that functionary that his
friend had come up to town, and asked him again whether
he was quite certain that he had not called there or sent
for his letters. No; nothing of the sort. Then Cap-
tain Lake asked to see the billiard-marker, who was likely
to know something about him. But he knew nothing.
He certainly had not been at the "Lark's Nest," which
was kept by the marker's venerable parent, and was a fa-
vorite haunt of the gay Lieutenant.
Then our friend Stanley, having ruminated for a min-
ute, pencilled a little note to Mark, telling him that he
was staying at Muggeridge's Hotel, 7 Hanover Street,
Piccadilly, and wished most particularly to see him for a
few minutes; and this he left with the hall-porter, to give
him should he call.
Then Lake got into his cab again, having learned that
he had lodgings in St. James's Street when he did not
stay at the Club, and to these he drove. There he saw
Mrs. M'lntyre, a Caledonian lady, at this hour somewhat
mellow and talkative; but she could say nothing to the
purpose either. Mr. Wylder had not been there for nine
weeks and three days; and would owe her, on Saturday
next, twenty-five guineas. So here, too, he left a little
note to the same effect; and, reiintering his cab, he drove
a long way, and past St. Paul's, and came at last to a
court, outside which he had to dismount from his vehicle,
entering the grimy quadrangle through a narrow passage.
He had been there that evening before, shortly after his


152 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
arrival, with old Mother Dutton, as he called her, about
her son, Jim.
Jim was in London looking for a situation, all which
pleased Captain Lake; and he desired that she should
send him to his hotel to see him in the morning.
But being in some matters of a nervous and impatient
temperament, he had come again, as we see, hoping to
find Jim there, and to anticipate his interview of the
morning.
This time he went to a somewhat mysterious and barri-
cadoed place, where, in a blaze of light, in various rooms,
gentlemen in hats, and some in great coats, were playing
roulette or hazard; and I am sorry to say, that our friend,
Captain Lake, played first at one. and then at the other
with what success exactly I don't know. But I don't think
it was very far from four o'clock in the morning when he
let himself into his family hotel with that latch-key, the
cock's tail of Micyllus, with which good-natured old Mrs.
Muggeridge obliged the good-looking Captain.
Captain Lake having given orders the evening before,
that anyone who might call in the morning, and ask to
see him, should be shown up to his bed-room sans cere-
monie, was roused from deep slumber at a quarter past
ten, by a knock at his door, and a waiter's voice.
"Who's that?" drawled Captain Lake, rising, pale and
half awake, on his elbow, and not very clear where he
was.
"The man, sir, as you left a note for yesterday, which
he desires to see you?"
"Tell him to step in."
So out went the waiter in pumps, and the sound of
thick shoes was audible on the lobby, and a sturdier knock
sounded on the door.
"Come in," said the Captain.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 153
And Jim Button entered the room, and, closing the
door, made at the side of the bed his reverence, consist-
ing of a nod and a faint pluck at the lock of hair over his
forehead.
Now Stanley Lake had, perhaps, expected to see some
one else; for though this was a very respectable-looking
fellow for his walk in life, the gay young officer stared
full at him, with a frightened and rather dreadful counten-
ance, and actually sprang from his bed at the other side,
with an ejaculation at once tragic and blasphemous.
The man plainly had not expected to produce any such
result, and looked very queer. Perhaps he thought some-
thing had occurred to affect his personal appearance; per-
haps some doubt about the Captain's state of health, and
misgiving as to delirium tremens may have flickered over
his brain.
They were staring at one another across the bed, the
Captain in his shirt.
At last the gallant officer seemed to discover things as
they were.
"And so it is you, Jim," said the Captain. "And
how do you do— quite well, Jim — and out of place?
You've been hurt in the foot, eh? so old — your — Mrs.
Dutton tells me, but that won't signify. I -was dreaming
when you came in; not quite awake yet, hardly; just
wait a bit till I get my slippers on; and this " — So into
his red slippers he slid, and got his great shawl dressing-
gown, about his slender person, and greeted Jim Button
again in very friendly fashion, enquiring very particular-
ly how he had been ever since, and what his mother was
doing; and I'm afraid not listening to Jim's answers as
attentively as one might have expected.
Whatever may have been his intrinsic worth, Jim was
not polished, and spoke, moreover, an uncouth dialect,


154 WYLDER'S HJUfD.
which broke out now and then. But he was in a sort of
way attached to the Lake family; the son of an heredita-
ry tenant on that estate, which had made itself wings, and
flown away like the island of Laputa.
When they had talked together for a while, the Captain
said —
"The fact is, it is not quite on me you would have to
attend; the situation, perhaps. is hetter. You have no
objection to travel. You have been abroad, you know;
and of course wages and all that will be in proportion."
Well, Jim had not any objection to speak of.
"What's wanted is a trustworthy man, perfectly steady,
you see, and a fellow who knows how to hold his tongue."
The last condition, perhaps, struck the man as a little
odd; he looked a little confusedly, and he conveyed that
he would not like to be in anything that was not quite
straight.
"Quite straight, sir !" repeated Stanley Lake, looking
round on him, sternly; "neither should I, I fancy.
You are to suppose the case of a gentleman who is nurs-
ing his estate — you know what that means — and wants
to travel, and keep quite quiet, and who requires a steady,
trustworthy man to look after him, in such a way as I
shall direct, with very little trouble and capital pay. I
have a regard for you, Dutton; and seeing so good a sit-
uation was to be had, and thinking you the fittest man I
know, I wished to serve you and my friend at the same
time."
Button became grateful and docile upon this.
"There are reasons, quite honorable I need not tell
you, which make it necessary, James Dutton, that the
whole of this affair should be kept perfectly to ourselves;
you are not to repeat one syllable I say to you to your
mother, do you mind, or to any other person living. The


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 155
gentleman ia liberal, and if you can just hold your
tongue, you will have little trouble in satisfying him upon
all other points. But if you can't be quite silent, you
had better, I frankly tell you, decline the situation, ex-
cellent in all respects as it is."
"I'm a man, sir, as can be close enough."
"So much the better. You don't drink?"
Button colored a little and coughed and said —
"No, sir."
"You have your papers?"
"Yes, sir."
So Jim Button made his bow, and departed; and Cap-
tain Lake continued to watch the door for some seconds
after his departure, as if he could see his retreating figure
through it. And, said he, with an oath, and his hand to
his forehead, over his eyebrow —
"It is the most unaccountable thing in nature!"
Then, after a reverie of some seconds, the young gen-
tleman applied himself energetically to his toilet; and
coming down to his sittting room, he looked into his
morning paper, and then into the street and told the ser-
vant as he sat down to breakfast, that he expected a gen-
tleman named Wylder to call that morning, and to be
sure to show him up directly.
CHAPTER XXVII.
LAWYER LARKIN'S MIND BEGINS TO WORK.
THAT morning Lake's first report upon his inquisition
into the whereabouts of Mark Wylder — altogether disap-


156 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
pointing and barren — reached Lord Chelford in a short
letter; and a similar one only shorter, found Lawyer Lar-
kin in his pleasant breakfast, parlor.
Now this proceeding of Mr. Wylder's. at this particu-
lar time, struck the righteous attorney, and reasonably, us
a very serious and .unjustifiable step. It actually threat-
ened the engagement which was so near its accomplish-
ment. Some most powerful and mysterious cause must
undoubtedly be in operation to induce so sharp a " party,"
to risk so huge a prize. Whatever eminent qualities
Mark Wylder might be deficient in, the attorney very
•well knew that cunning was not among the number.
"It is nothing of the nature of debt — plenty of money.
It is nothing that money can buy off easily either, though
he does not like parting with it. Ten — twenty to one
— it is the old story — some unfortunate female connection
— some ambiguous relation, involving a doubtful marri-
age."
After this Mr. Larkin's ruminations darkened, and
grew, perhaps, less distinct. He had no particular objec-
tion to a mystery. In fact, he rather liked it, provided he
was admitted to confidence. A mystery implied a difficul-
ty of a delicate and formidable sort; and such difficulties
were not disadvantageous to a clever and firm person, who
might render himself very necessary to an embarrassed
principal with plenty of money.
Mr. Larkin had a way of gently compressing his
under-lip between his finger and thumb — a mild pinch, a
reflective caress — when contemplations of this nature
occupied his brain. The silver light of heaven faded from
his long face, a deep shadow of earth came thereon, and
his small, dove-like eyes grew intense, hungry, and rat-
like.
When Jos Larkin had speculated for some time longer
he gaid quietly to himself —


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 157
"Yes."
And then he ordered his dog-cart, and drove off to
Dollington, and put up at Johnson's Hotel, where Stanley
Lak« had slept on the night of his sister s return from
London. Mr. Larkin got into a little brown room, looking
into the inn garden, and called for some luncheon, and pen
and ink, and had out a sheaf of law papers he had brought
with him, tied up in professional red tape; and asked the
waiter, with a grand smile and recognition, how he did'
and asked him next for his good friend, Mr. Johnson; and
trusted that business was improving; and would be very
happy to see him for two or three minutes, if he could
spare time.
So, in due time, in came the corpulent proprietor, and
Lawyer Larkin shook hands with him, and begged him to
sit down, like a man who confers a distinction; and assur-
ed him that Lord Edward Buxleigh, whom he had recom-
mended to stay at the house for the shooting, had been
very well pleased with the accommodation — very highly so
indeed — and his lordship had so expressed himself when
they had last -met at Sir Hugh Huxterly's, of Hatch
'Court.
Then he inquired after the two heifers that Mr. Johnson
was so good as to feed for him on his little farm; and
then he mentioned that his friend, Captain Lake, who was
staying with him at his house at Gylingden, was also very
well satisfied with his accommodation, when he, too, at
Lawyer Larkin's recommendation, had put up for a night
at Johnson's Hotel; and it was not every house which
could satisfy London swells of Captain Lake's fashion and
habits, he could tell him.
Then followed some conversation which. I dare say,
interested the lawyer more than he quite showed in Mr.
Johnson's company. For when that pleased and com-


158 WVLDER'S HAJVD.
municative host had withdrawn, Jos Larkin made
half-a-dozen little entries in his pocket-book, with " State-
ment of Mr. William Johnson," and the date of their
conversation, at the head of the memorandum.
So the lawyer, having to run on as far as Charteris by
the goods-train, upon business, walked down to the station,
where, having half-an-hour to wait, he fell into talk with
the station-master, whom he also knew, and afterwards with
Tom Christmas, the porter; and in the waiting-room he
made some equally business-like memoranda.
By the time his little book was again in the bottom of
his pocket, the train had arrived, and doors swung open
and clapt, and people got in and out to the porter's accom-
paniment of "Dollington — Dollington — Dollington!"
and Lawyer Larkin took his place, and glided away to
Charteris, where he had a wait of two hours for the
return train, and a good deal of barren talk with persons
at the station, rewarded by one or two sentences worth
noting, and accordingly duly entered in the same little
pocket-book.
Thus was the good man's day consumed; and when he
mounted his dog-cart, at Dollington, wrapped his rug
about his legs, whip and reins in hand, arid the ostler
buckled the apron across, the sun was setting redly behind
the hills; and the air was frosty, and the night dark, as
he drew up before his own door-steps, near Gylingden. A
dozen lines of one of these pages would suffice to contain
the fruits of his day's work; and yet the lawyer was
satisfied, and even pleased with it, and cat his late dinner
very happily; and went to bed after a calm and pleased
review of his memoranda, and slept the sleep of the
righteous.


CHAPTER XXVIII.
•
MARK WYLDER'S SUBMISSION.
EVERY day the position grew more critical and embar-
rassing. The day appointed for the nuptials was now
very near, and the bridegroom not only out of sight but
wholly untraceable. What was to be done?
A long letter from Stanley Lake told Lord Chclford, in
detail, all the measures adopted by that energetic young
gentleman for the discovery of the truant knight: —
"I have been at his club repeatedly, as also at his
lodgings — still his, though he has not appeared there
since his arrival in town. The billiard-marker at his
club knows his haunts; and I have taken the liberty to
employ, through him, several persons who are acquainted
with his appearance, and, at my desire, frequent those
places with a view to discovering him, and bringing about
an interview with me.
"lie was seen, I have reason,to believe, a day or two
before my arrival here, at a low place called the "Millers'
Hall," in the City, where members of the "Fancy"
resort, at one of their orgies, but not since. I have left
notes for him wherever he is likely to call, entreating an
interview.
"On my arrival I was sanguine about finding him; but
I regret to say my hopes have very much declined, and I
begin to think he must have changed his quarters. If you
have heard from him within the last few days, perhaps you


160 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
will be so kind as to send me the envelope of his letter,
which, by its postmark, may possibly throw some light, or
hint some theory as to his possible movements. He is very
clever; and having taken this plan of concealing his resi-
dence, will conduct it skilfully. If the case were mine, I
should be much tempted to speak with the detective au-
thorities, and try whether they might not give their as-
sistance, of course without eclat. But this is, I am aware,
open to objection, and, in fact, would not be justifiable,
except under the very peculiar urgency of the case.
"Will you be so good as to say what you think upon
this point; also, to instruct me what you authorise me to
say should I be fortunate enough to meet him. At present
I am hardly in a position to say more than an acquaint-
tance — never, I fear, very cordial on his part — would
allow; which, of course, could hardly exceed a simple
mention of your anxiety to be placed in communication
with him.
"If I might venture to suggest, I really think a per-
emptory alternative should be presented to him. Writing,
however, in ignorance of what may since have passed at
Brandon, I may be assuming a state of things which,
possibly, no longer exists. Pray understand that in any
way you please to employ me, I am entirely at your com-
mand. It is also possible, though 1 hardly hope it, that I
may be able to communicate something definite by this
evening's post.
Whatever may be the cause of Mark Wylder's present
line of conduct, it appears to me that if he really did
attend that meeting at the "Millers' Hall," there cannot
be anything very serious weighing upon his spirits. My
business will detain me here, I rather think, three days
longer."
By return of post Lord Chelford wrote to Stanley
Lake : —


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 161
"I am very much obliged to you for all the trouble,
you have taken. The measures which you have adopted
are, I think, most judicious; and I should not wish, on
consideration, to speak to any official person. I think it
better to trust entirely to the means you have already
employed. I do not desire to speculate as to the causes of
Wylder's extraordinary conduct; but, all the circumstan-
ces considered, I cannot avoid concluding, as you do, that
there must be some very serious reason for it. I enclose
a note, which, perhaps, you will be so good as to give him,
should you meet before you leave town."
"The note to Mark Wylder was in these terms: —
•
"DEAR WYLDER,— I had hoped to see you before now
at Brandon. Your unexplained absence longer continued,
you must see, will impose on me the necessity of offering
an explanation to Miss Brandon's friends, of the relations,
under these strange circumstances, in which you and she
are to be assumed to stand. You have accounted in no way
for your absence. You have not even suggested a post-
ponement of the day fixed for the completion of your
engagement to that young lady; and, as her guardian, I
cannot avoid telling her, should I fail to hear explicitly
from you within three days from this date, that she is at
liberty to hold herself acquitted of her engagement to you.
I do not represent to you how much reason every one
interested by relationship in that young lady has to feel
offended at the disrespect with which you have treated
her. Still hoping, however, that all may yet be explain-
ed,
"I remain, my dear Wylder, yours very truly,
"CHELFORD."
Lord Chelford had not opened the subject to Dorcas.


162 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
•Neither had old Lady Chelford, although she harangued
her son upon it as volubly and fiercely as if he had been
Mark Wylder in person, whenever he and she were
- tete-d-tete. She was extremely provoked, too, at Dor-
cas's evident repose under this astounding treatment, and
was enigmatically sarcastic upon her when they sat together
in the drawing-room.
This evening, in the drawing-room, there were two
very pretty ormolu caskets upon the little marble table.
I; So, so, something new, and very elegant and pretty,"
said the old lady holding her head high, and looking as if
she were disposed to be propitiated. "I think I can risk a
conjecture. Mr. Wylder is about to reappear, and has
despatched these heralds of approach, no doubt, suitably
freighted, to plead for his re-acceptance into favor. You
have heard, then, from Mr. Wylder, my dear Dorcas?"
"No, Lady Chelford," said the young lady, with a
grave serenity, turning her head leisurely towards her.
"No? Oh, then where is my son? He. perhaps,
can explain; and pray, my dear, what are these?"
"These caskets contain the jewels which Mr. Wylder
gave me about six weeks since. I had intended restoring
them to him; but as his return is delayed, I mean to
place them in Chelford's hands; because I have made up
my mind, a week ago, to put on end to this odious engage-
ment. It is all over."
Lady Chelford stared at the audacious young lady with
a look of incensed amazement for some seconds, unable to
speak. i
"Upon my word, young lady! vastly fine and inde-
pendent! You chasser Mr. Wylder without one mo-
ment's notice, and without deigning to consult me, or any
other person capable of advising you. You are about to
commit as gross and indelicate a breach of faith as 11 ecol-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 168
lect anywhere to have heard of. What will be thought?
— what will the world say? Will you be good enough
to explain yourself? .Til not undertake your excuses, I
promise you."
"Excuses! I don't think of excuses, Lady Chelford;
no person living has a right to demand ono." «
"I don't believe you are serious, Dorcas," said Lady
Chelford, more anxiously, and also more gently. I can't
suppose it. I'm an old woman, my dear, and I shan't
trouble you very long. I can have no object in mislead-
ing you, and you have never experienced from me any-
thing but kindness and affection. I think you might
trust me a little, Dorcas — but, that, of course, is for you,
you are your own mistress now — but, at least, you may
reconsider the question you propose deciding in so extra-
ordinary a way. I allow you might do much better than
Mark Wylder, but also worse. He has not a title, and
his estate is not enough to carry the point d force d"ar-
gent; I grant all that. But together the estates are
more than most titled men possess; and the real point is
the fatal slip in your poor uncle's will, which makes it SO
highly important that you and Mark should be united;
bear that in mind, dear Dorcas. You must not act pre-
cipitately, and under the influence of mere pique. His
absence, I will lay my life, will be satisfactorily accounted
for; he has set his heart upon this marriage, and I really
think you will almost drive him mad if you act as you
threaten."
"You have, indeed, dear Lady Chelford, been always
very kind to me, and I do trust you," replied the beauti-
ful heiress, turning her large, shadowy eyes upon the
dowager, and speaking in slow and silvery accents,
somehow very melancholy. "I dare say it is very im-
prudent, and I don't deny that Mr. Wylder may have


164 WYLDER'S HJUfD.
reason to complain of me, and the world will not spare me
either; but I have quite made up my mind, and nothing
can ever change me; all is over between me and Mr. Wyl-
der — quite over — for ever."
"Upon my life, young lady, this is being very sharp,
indeed. Mr. Wylder's business detains him a day or two
longer than he expected, and he is punished by a final dis-
missal!"
"So far, dear Lady Chelford, from provoking me to
this decision, his absence is, I assure you, the sole reason
of my having delayed to inform him of it."
"And I assure you, Miss Brandon, 7 shan't undertake
to deliver your monstrous message. He will probably be
here to-morrow. You have prepared an agreeable sur-
prise for him. You shall have the pleasure of adminis-
tering it yourself, Miss Brandon. For my part, I have
done my duty, and here and now renounce all responsi-
bility in the future management of your aflairs."
Saying which, she rose, in a stately and incensed way,
and looking with flashing eyes over Dorcas's head to a far
corner of the apartment, without another word she rus-
tled slowly and majestically from the drawing-room.
She was a good deal shocked, and her feelings quite
changed, however, when next morning the post brought a
letter to Chelford from Mark Wylder, bearing the Bou-
logne post-mark. It said —
"DEAR CHELFORD, — Don't get riled; but the fact is
I don't see my way out of my present business " — (this
last word was substituted for another, crossed out, which
looked like " scrape") — " for a couple of months, may-
be. Therefore you see, my liberty and wishes being at
present interfered with, it would be very hard lines if
poor Dorcas should be held to her bargain. Therefore, I


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 165
will say this — she is quite free for me. Only, of course
I don't decline to fulfil my part whenever at liberty.
In the meantime, I return the miniature, with her hair in
it, which I constantly wore about me since I got it. But
I have no right to it any longer, till I know her decision.
Don't be too hard on me, dear Chelford. It is a very old
lark has got me into this present vexation. In the mean-
time, I wish to make it quite clear what I mean. Not
being able by any endeavor " — (here a nautical phrase
scratched out, and "endeavor " substituted) — "of mine
to be up to time, and as these are P. P. affairs I must
only forfeit. I mean, I am at the lady's disposal, either to
fulfil my engagement the earliest day I can, or to be
turned adrift. That is all I can say.
"In more trouble than you suppose, I remain, dear
Chelford, yours, whatever you may think, faithfully,"
"MARK WYLDER."
CHAPTER XXIX.
new MARK WYLDER'S DISAPPEARANCE AFFECTED HIS
FRIENDS.
LADY CHELFORD'S wrath was now turned anew upon
Wylder — and the inconvenience of having no visible ob-
ject on which to expend it was once more painfully felt
.
Railing at Mark Wylder was, alas! beating the air. The
most crushing invective was — thanks to his adroit mys-
tification — simply a soliloquy. Poor Lady Chelford,
who loved to give the ingenious youngsters of both sexes,
when occasion invited, a piece of her mind was here —
absolutely tongue• tied! If it had been possible to tell


166 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Wylder what she thought of him it would, perhaps, have
made her more tolerable than she was, for some days after
the arrival of that letter, to other members of the family.
The idea of holding Miss •Brandon to this engagement,
proroguing her nuptials from day to day, to convenience
the bridegroom — absent without explanation — was quite
untenable. Fortunately the marriage, considering the
antiquity and the territorial position of the two families,
who were involved, was to have been a very quiet affair
indeed — no festivities — nothing of the nature of a coun-
ty gala — no concussions of society — a dignified but se-
cluded marriage.
This divested the inevitable dissolution of these high
relations of much of its eclat and ridicule.
Of course there was abundance of talk. Scarce a man
or woman in the shire but had a theory or a story —
sometimes bearing hard on the lady, sometimes on the
gentleman; still it was an abstract breach of promise,
and would have much improved by some outward and
visible sign of disruption and disappointment. Some
concrete pageantries to be abolished and removed; flag-
stain, for instance, and banners, marquees, pyrotechnic
machinery, and long tiers of rockets, festoons of ever-
greens, triumphal arches with appropriate mottoes, to
come down and hide themselves away, would have been
pleasant to the many who like a joke, and to the few who
love a sneer.
Eut there were no such fopperies to hurry off the stage
disconcerted. In the autumnal sun, among the thinning
foliage of the noble trees, Brandon Hall looked solemn,
sad, and magnificent, as usual, with a sort of retrospective
serenity, buried in old-world glories and sorrows, and
heeding little the follies and scandals of the hour.
In the same way Miss Brandon, with Lord and Lady


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 167
Chelford, was seen next Sunday afternoon, serene and
unchanged, in the great carved oak Brandon pew, raised
like a dais two feet at least above the level of mere .Chris-
tians, who frequented the family chapel. When the good
Vicar, the Rev. William Wylder, at three o'clock, per-
formed his holy office in reading desk and pulpit, the good
folk from Gylingden assembled in force, saw nothing no-
ticeable in the demeanor or appearance of the great'Bran-
don heiress. No shadow of trouble on that calm marble
beauty, no light of joy, but a serene superb indifference.
Of course there was some satire in Gylingden; but,
m the main, it was a loyal town, and true to its princess.
Mr. Wylder's settlements were not satisfactory, it was
presumed, or the young lady could not bring herself to
like him, or however it came to pass, one way or another,
that sprig of willow inevitably to be mounted by hero or
heroine upon such equivocal occasions was placed by the
honest town by no means in her breast, but altogether in
his button-hole.
Gradually, in a more authentic shape, information
traceable to old Lady Chelford, through some of the old
county families who visited at Brandon, made it known
that Mr. Wylder's affairs were not at present by any
means in so settled a state as was supposed ;. and that a
long betrothal not being desirable on the whole, Miss
Brandon's relatives thought it advisable that the engage-
ment should terminate, and had so decided, Mr. Wylder
having, very properly, placed himself absolutely in their
hands.
As for Mark, it was presumed, he had gone into volun-
tary banishment.
It was know to be quite final, and as the lady evinced
no chagrin and affected no unusual spirits, but held,
swanlike and majestic, the even tenoc of her way, there


168 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
was on the whole, little doubt anywhere that the gentle-
man had received his congi and was hiding his mortification
and healing his wounds in Paris or Vienna, or some other
suitable retreat.
But though the good folk of Gylingden, in general,
cared very little how Mark Wylder might have disposed
of himself, there was one inhabitant to whom his absence
was fraught with very serious anxiety and inconvenience.
This was his brother, William, the Vicar.
Poor William, sound in morals, free from vice, no dandy,
a quiet, bookish, self-denying mortal, was yet, when ho
took holy orders and quitted his chambers at Cambridge,
as much in debt as many a scamp of his college. He had
been, perhaps, a little foolish and fanciful in the article of
books. and had committed a serious indiscretion in the
matter of a carved oak bookcase; and, worse still, he
had published a slender volume of poems, and a bulkier
tome of essays, scholastic and theologic, both which ven-
tures, notwithstanding their merits, had turned out un-
happily; and worse still, he had lent that costly loan,
his sign manual, on two or three occasions, to friends in
need, and one way or another found that, on winding
up and closing his Cambridge life, his assets fell short
of his liabilities very seriously.
He had staved off some of his troubles by a little loan
from an insurance company, but the premium and the in-
stalments were disproportioned to his revenue, and indeed
very nearly frightful to contemplate. The Cambridge
tradesmen were growing minatory; and there was a stern
person who held a renewal of one of his old paper subsi-
dies to the necessities of his scampish friend Clarkson,
who was plainly a difficult and awful character to deal
with.
Dreadful as were the tradesmen's peremptory and wrath-


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
ful letters, the promptitude and energy of this latter per-
sonage were such as to produce a sense of immediate dan-
ger so acute that the sacred Vicar opened his dismal case
to his brother Mark.
Mark, sorely against the grain, and with no good grace,
at last consented to advance 300Z. in this dread emergen-
cy, and the Vicar blessed his benefactor, and in his closet
on his knees, shed tears of thankfulness over his deliver-
ance, and the sky opened and the flowers looked bright,
and life grew pleasant once more.
But the 300/. were not yet in his pocket, and Mark had
gone away; and although of course the loan was sure to
come, the delay — any delay in his situation — was criti-
cal and formidable. Still he would not believe it possible
that he could forget his promise, or shut up his bowels of
mercy, or long delay the remittance which he knew to bo
so urgently needed.
In the meantime, however, a writ reached the hand of
the poor Vicar of Naunton Friars, who wrote in eager
and confused terror to a friend in the Middle Temple on
the dread summons, and learned that he was now "in
court," and must "appear," or suffer judgment by de-
fault.
The end was that he purchased a respite of three
months, by adding thirty pounds to his debt, and so was
thankful for another deliverance, and was confident of the
promised subsidy within a week, or at all events a fort-
night, or at worst— three months was a long reprieve —
and the subsidy must arrive before the emergency.
When the "service" was over, the neighborly little
congregation, with a sprinkling of visitors to Gylingden,
for sake of its healing waters, broke up, and loitered in
the vicinity of the porch, to remark on the sermon or the
weather, and ask one another how they did, and to see the
8


170 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Brandon family enter their carriage; and, this incident
over, they broke up gradually into little groups, in Sun-
day guise, and many colors, some for a ramble on the
common, and some to tea, according to the primitive hours
that ruled old Gylingden.
The Vicar, and John Hughes, clerk and sexton, were last
out; and the reverend gentleman, thin and tall, in white
necktie, and black, a little threadbare, stood on the steps
of the porch, in a sad abstraction. The sound of the oak
door closing heayily behind him and John Hughes, and the
key revolving in the lock recalled him, and with a sigh
and a smile, and a kindly nod to John, he looked up and
round on the familiar and pretty scenery undecided. It
was not quite time to go home; his troubles were heavy
upon him, too, just then; and the quiet of the road, and
the sweet air and sunshine, tempted him to walk off the
chill and fever of the fit.
As he passed the little cottage where old Widow Mad-
dock lay sick,TJachel Lake emerged. He was not glad.
He would rather have had his sad walk in his own shy
company. But there she was — he could not pass her
by; BO he stopped, and lifted his hat and greeted her;
and then they shook hands. She was going his way. He
looked wistfully on the little hatch of old Widow Mad-
dock's cottage; for he felt a pang of reproach at passing
her door; but there was no comfort then in his thoughts,
only a sense of fear and hopeless fatigue.
"How is poor old Mrs. Maddock?" he asked; "you
have been visiting the sick and afflicted, and I was pass-
ing by; but, indeed, if I were capable at this moment I
should not fail to see her, poor creature."
There was something apologetic and almost miserable in
his look as he said this.
"She is not better; but you have been very good to


WYLDER'S HAJVD 171
her, and she is very grateful; and I am glad," said Ra-
chel, "that I happened to light on you."
They were by this time walking side by side; and sho
glanced at him enquiringly; and he thought tha-t the
handsome girl looked rather thin and pale.
"You once said," Miss Lake resumed, "that sooner or
later I should be taught the value of religion, and would
learn to prize my great privileges; and that for some
spirits the only approach to the throne of mercy was
through great tribulation. I have often thought since of
those words, and they have begun, for me, to take the
spirit of a prophecy — sometimes that is — but at others
they sound differently — like a dreadful menace — as if
my afflictions were only to bring me to the gate of life to
find it shut."
"Knock, and it shall be opened," said the Vicar; but
the comfort was sadly spoken, and he sighed.
"But is there not a time, Mr. Wylder, when He shall
have shut the door, and are there not some who. crying to
him to open, shall yet remain for ever in outer darkness."
"I see, dear Miss Lake, that your mind is at work —
it is a good influence — at work upon the great theme
which every mortal spirit ought to be employed upon."
"My fears are at work; my mind is altogether dark
and turbid; I am sometimes at the brink of despair."
"Take comfort from those fears. There is hope in that
despair; " and he looked at her with great interest in his
gentle eyes.
'She looked at him, and then away toward the declining
sun, and she said despairingly —
"I cannot comprehend you."
Miss Lake's way lay by a footpath across a corner of
the park to Redman's Dell. So they crossed the stile,


172 WYLDER'S
and still conversing, followed the footpath under the hedge-
row of the pretty field, and crossing another stile, entered
the park.
CHAPTER XXX.
IN BRANDON PARE.
STILL pursuing her solemn and melancholy discourse,
the young lady followed the path, accompanied by the
Vicar.
"Truth," said the Vicar, "your mind is disturbed,
but not by doubt. No; it is by truth." He glanced
aside at the tarn where I had seen the phantom, and by
which their path now led them — " You remember Par-
nell's pretty image?
So when a smooth expanse receives imprest
Calm nature's image on its watery breast,
Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow,
And skies beneath with answering colors glow;
But if a stone the gentle scene divide,
Swift ruffling circles curl on every side,
And glimmering fragments of a broken sun,
Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run.
But, as I said, it is not a doubt that agitates your mind
— that is well represented by the " stone," that subsides
and leaves the pool clear, it maybe, but stagnant as be-
fore. Oh, no; rt is an angel who comes down and trou-
bles the water."
"What a heavenly evening!" said a low, sweet voice,
but with something insidious in it, close at his shoulder.


WYLDER'S HJUfD. 173
•
With a start, Rachel glanced back, and saw the pale,
peculiar face of her brother. His yellow eyes for a mo-
ment gleamed into hers, and then on the Vicar, and, with
his accustomed smile, he extended his band.
"How do you do ? — better, I hope, Radio? How are
you, William?"
Rachel grew deadly pale, and then flushed, and then
was pale again.
"I thought, Stanley, you were in London."
"So I was; but I arrived here this morning; I'm stay-
ing for a few days at the Lodge — Larkin's house; you're
going home, I suppose, Radie?"
"Yes — oh, yes — but I don't know that I'll go this
way. You say you must return to Gylingden now, Mr.
Wylder; I think I'll turn also, and go home that way."
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said the
Vicar, truly as well as kindly, for he had grown interested
in their conversation; "but I fear you are tired"—he
looked very kindly on her pale face — " and you know it
will cost you a walk of more than two miles."
"I forgot — yes — I believe I am a little tired; I'm
afraid I have led you, too, farther than you intended."
She fancied that her sudden change of plan on meeting
her brother would appear odd.
"I'll see you a little bit on your way home, Radie," said
Stanley.
It was just what she wished to escape. She was more
nervous, though not less courageous than formerly. But
the old, fierce, defiant spirit awoke. Why should she fear
Stanley, or what could it be to her whether he was beside
her in her homeward walk?
So the Vicar made his adieux there, and began, at a
brisker pace, to retrace his steps toward Gylingden; and
she and Stanley, side by side, walked on toward Redman's
Dell.


174 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"What a charming park! and what delightful air, Ra-
dio; and the weather so very delicious. They talk of
Italian evenings; but there is a pleasant sharpness in Eng-
lish evenings quite peculiar. Is not there just a little
suspicion of frost— not actually cold, but crisp and sharp
— unspeakably exhilarating; now really, this evening is
quite celestial."
"I've just been listening to a good man's conversation,
and I wish to reflect upon it," said Rachel, very coldly.
"Quite so; that is, of course, when you are alone,"
answered Stanley, serenely. "William was always a very
clever fellow to talk — very well read in theology — is
not he ? — it is a pity he is not quite straight, or at least
more punctual, in his money affairs."
"He is distressed for money? William Wylder is dis-
tressed for money! Do you mean that?" said Rachel,
in a tone of sudden surprise and energy, turning full upon
him, and stopping short.
"Oh, dear! no — not the least distressed that I ever
heard'of," laughed Stanley coldly—"only just a little
bit roguish, maybe."
"That's so like you, Stanley," said the young lady,
with a quiet scorn, resuming her onward walk.
"How very beautiful that clump of birch trees is, near
the edge of the slope there; you really can't imagine, who
are always here, how very intensely a person who had just
escaped from London enjoys all this."
"I don't think, Stanley," said the young lady, coldly,
and looking straight before her as she walked, "you ev-
er cared for natural scenery — or liked the country —
and yet you are here. I don't think you ever loved me,
or cared whether I was alone or in company; and yet
seeing — for you did see it — that I would now rather be
alone, you persist in walking with me, and talking of trees


WYLDER'S HAJVD 175
and air and celestial evenings, and thinking of something
quite different. Had you not better turn back to Gyling-
den, or the Lodge, or wherever you mean to pass the eve-
ing, and leave me to my quiet walk and my solitude?"
"In a few minutes, dear Radie — you are so odd. I
really believe you think no one can enjoy a ramble like
this but yourself."
"Come, Stanley, what do you want?" said his sister,
stopping short, and speaking with the flush of irritation on
her cheek — " do you mean to walk to Redman's Dell, or
have you anything unpleasant t o say?"
"Neither, I hope," •said the Captain, with his sleepy
emile.
"I don't understand you, Stanley, I am always uncom-
fortable when you are near me. You stand there like an
evil spirit, with some purpose which I cannot divine; but
you shall not ensnare me. Pursue your own plots —
your wicked plots; but let me rest. I will be released,
sir, from your presence."
"Really this is very fine, Radie, considering how we
are related; I'm Mephistophiles, I suppose, and you Mar-
garet, or some other simple heroine — rebuking the fiend
in the majesty of your purity."
"I tell you, Stanley, I feel that you design employing
me in some of your crooked plans. I have horrible rea-
sons, as you know, for avoiding you, and so I will. I hope
I may never desjre to see you alone, again, but if I do, it
shall not be to receive, but to impose commands. You
had better return to Gylingden, and leave me."
"So I will, dear Radie, by-and-by," said he, with his
amused smile.
"That is, you won't until you have said what you med-
itate. Well, then, as it seems I must hear it, pray speak
at once, standing where we are, for the sun will soon go
down, and one step more I will not walk with you."


176 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Well, Radie, you are pleased to be whimsical; and, to
say truth, I was thinking of saying a word or two, just
about an idea that has been in my mind some time, and
which you half divined the first day I saw you at Redman's
Farm. You know you fancied I was thinking of marry-
ing."
"I don't remember that I said so, but I thought it. You
mentioned Caroline Beauchamp, but I don't see how
your visit here could have been connected with that plan."
"But don't you think, Radie, I should do well to marry,
that is, assuming everything to be suitable."
"Well, perhaps, for yourself, Stanley; but —"
"Yes, of course," said Lake; "but the unfortunate
girl, you were going to say — thank you. She's, of
course, very much to be pitied, and you have my leave to
pity her as much as you please."
"I do pity her," said Rachel.
"Thank you again," said Stanley; "but seriously,
Radie, you can be, I think, very essentially of use to me
in this affair, and you must not refuse."
"Now, Stanley, I will cut this matter short. I can't
serve you. I won't. I don't know the young lady, and I
don't mean to make her acquaintance."
"But I tell you that you can serve me," retorted Stan-
ley, with a savage glare, and features whitened with pas-
sion, "and you shall serve me; and you do know the
young lady intimately."
"I say, sir, I do not," replied Rachel, haughtily and
fiercely.
"She is Dorcas Brandon; you know her, I believe. I
came down here to marry her. I had made up my mind
when I saw you first, and I'll carry my point; I always
do. She does not like me, maybe; but she shall. I nev-
er yet resolved to make a woman like me, and failed. You


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 177
need not look so pale; and put on that affected look of
horror. I may be wild, and — and what you please, but
I'm no worse than that brute, Mark Wyldcr, and you
never turned up your eyes when he was her choice; and
I knew things about him that ought to have damned him,
and she's well rid of a branded rascal. And now, Ra-
chel, you know her, and you must say a good word for
me. I expect your influence, and if you don't use it, and
effectually, it will be worse for you. So, listen to me,
this is a vital matter; indeed, it is, Radie. I have lost a
lot of money, like a — fool, I suppose; well, it is gone,
and this marriage is indispensable. I must go in for it, it is
life or death; and if I fail through your unkindness (here
he swore an impious oath), I'll end all with a pistol, and
leave a letter to Chelford, disclosing everything concern-
ing you, and me, and Mark Wylder.
I think Rachel Lake was as near fainting as ever lady
was, without actually swooning. It was well they had
stopped just by the stem of a great ash tree, against which
Rachel leaned for some seconds, with darkness before her
eyes, and the roar of a whirlpool in her ears.
After a while, with two or three gasps, she came to
herself. Lake had been railing on all this time, and his
voice, which, in ill-temper, was singularly bleak and ter-
rible, was again in her ears the moment she recovered her
hearing.
"I do not care to quarrel; there are many reasons why
we should not," Lake said in his peculiar tones. "You
have some of my secrets, and you must have more; it
can't be helped, and, I say, you must. I've been very
foolish. I'll give up play. I've paid away all I could,
and given bills for the rest; but I can't possibly pay
them, don't you see; and if things go to the worst, I tell
you I'll not stay. I don't want to make my bow just yet,
8»


178 . WYLDER'S HAJVD.
and I've no wish to injure you, but I'll do as I have said,
and Chelford shall have a distinct statement under my
hand of everything that has happened. I don't suppose
you wish to be accessary to all this, and therefore it be-
hoves you, Rachel, to do what you can to prevent it.
You'll do all you can; and you can do a great deal. I
know it; I'll do as much for you, Radie! Anything you
like."
"After all that I have done and suffered !" said she,
with a faint smile of unimaginable bitterness; "I did not
think that human wickedness could produce such a brother
as you are."
"Well, it is no news you think of me, and not much
matter, either. I don't see that I am a worse brother than
you are a sister." Stanley Lake was speaking with a
livid intensity. "You see how I'm placed; a ruined man
with a pistol to my head; what you can do to save me
may amount to nothing, but it may be everything, and
you say you won't try! Now I say you shall, and with
every energy and faculty you possess, or else abide the
consequences."
"And I tell you, sir," replied Rachel, "I know you;
you are capable of anything but of hurting yourself. I'll
never be your slave; though, if I pleased, I might make
you mine. I scorn your threats — I defy you."
Stanley Lake looked transported, and the yellow fires
of his deep-set eyes glared on her, while his lips moved to
speak, but not a word came, and it became a contortion;
he grasped the switch in his hands as if to strike her.
"Take care, sir, Lord Chelford's coming," said the
young lady, haughtily, with a contracted glance of horror
fixed on Lake.
Lake collected himself. He was a man who could do it
pretty quickly; but he had been violently agitated, and
the traces of his fury could not disappear in a moment.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 179
Lord Chelford was, indeed, approaching, only a few
hundred yards away.
"Take my arm," said Lake.
And Rachel mechanically, as story-tellers say, placed
her slender gloved hand upon his arm — the miscreant
arm that had been so nearly raised to strike her; and they
walked along, brother and sister, in the Sabbath sunset
light, to meet him. ^
CHAPTER XXXI.
IN REDMAN'S DELL.
LORD CHELFORD raised his hat, smiling: "I am so
very glad I met you, I was beginning fo feel so solitary!"
he placed himself beside Miss Lake. "I've had such a
long walk across the park. How do you do, Lake; when
did you come?"
And so on — Lake answering and looking wonderfully
as usual.
- I think Lord Chelford perceived .there was something
amiss between the young people, for his eye rested on Ra-
chel with a momentary look of enquiry, unconscious, no
doubt, and quickly averted, and he went on chatting pleas-
antly; but he looked, once or twice, a little hard at Stan-
ley Lake. I don't think he had an extraordinarily good
opinion of that young gentleman. He seldom expressed
an ill one of anybody, and then it was in very measured
language. But though he never hinted at an unfavorable
estimate of the Captain, his intimacies with him were re-
served; and I think I have seen him, even when he smiled,


180 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
look the least bit in the world uncomfortable, as if he did
not quite enter into the Cu plain's pleasantries.
They bad not walked together very far, when Stanley
recollected that he must take his leave, and walk back to
Gylingden; and so the young lady and Lord were left to
pursue their way towards Redman's Farm together.
It would have been a more unaccountable proceeding on
the part of Stanley Lake, and a more romantic situation,
if Rachel and his lordship had not had before two or three
little accidental rambles together in the grounds and gar-
dens of Brandon. There was nothing quite new in the
situation, therefore; and Rachel was for a moment in-
describably relieved by Stanley's departure.
It was rather a marked thing — as lean Mrs. Loyd, of
Gylingden, who had two thin spinsters with pink noses
under her wing, remarked — this long walk of Lord Chel-
ford and Miss Lake in the park; and she enjoined upon
her girls the propriety of being specially reserved in their
intercourse with persons of Lord Chelford's rank; not
that they were much troubled with dangers from any such
quarter. Miss Lake had, she supposed, her own notions,
and would act as she pleased; but she owned for her part
she preferred the old fashion, and thought the men did
also; and was sure, too, that young ladies lost nothing by
a little reserve and modesty.
The sun just touched the verge of the wooded uplands,
as the young people began to descend the slope of Red-
man's Dell.
"How very short!" Lord Chelford paused, with a
smile, at these words. "I was just going to say how short
the days have grown, as if it had all happened without
notice, and contrary to the almanac; but really the sun
sets cruelly early this evening, and I am so very sorry our
little walk is so soon to end."


WYLDER'S HAJVD
There was not much in this little speech, but it was
spoken in a low, sweet voice; and Rachel looked down on
the ferns before her feet, as they walked on side by side,
not with a smile, but with a blush, and that beautiful look
of gratification so becoming and indescribable. Happy
that moment — that enchanted moment of oblivion and
illusion! But the fitful evening breeze came up through
Redman's Dell, with a gentle sweep over the autumnal
foliage. Sudden as a sigh, and cold; in her ear it sound-
ed like a whisper or a shudder, and she lifted up her eyes
and saw the darkening dell before her; and with a pang,
the dreadful sense of reality returned. She stopped, with
something almost wild in her look. But with an effort
she smiled, and said, with a little shiver, "The air has
grown quite chill, and the sun nearly set; we loitered,
Stanley and I, a great deal too long in the park, but I am
now at home, and I fear I have brought you much too far
out of your way already; good-bye." And she extended
her hand.
"You must not dismiss your escort here. I must see
you through the enchanted dell — it is only a step — and
tlien I shall return with a good conscience, like a worthy
knight, having 'lone my devoir honestly."
She looked down the dell, with a dark and painful
glance, and then she said a few words of hesitating apolo-
gy and acquiescence, and in a few minutes more they
parted at the little wicket of Redman's Farm. They
shook hands. He had a few pleasant, lingering words to
say. She paused as he spoke at the other side of that
little garden door. She seemed to like those lingering
sentences — and hung upon them — and even smiled —
Imt in her eyes there was a vague and melancholy plead-
ing— a wandering and unfathomable look that pained
him.


182
They shook hands again — it.was the third time — and
then she walked up the little gravel walk, hardly a dozen
steps, and disappeared within the door of Redman's Farm,
without turning another parting look on Lord Chelford,
who remained at the little paling — excepting one, I think
— to lift his hat and say one more parting word.
She turned into the little drawing-room at the left,
and, herself unseen, did take that last look, and saw him
go up the road again towards Brandon.
On the table there lay a letter which Margery had
brought from the post-office. So Rachel lighted her can-
dles and read it with very little interest, for it concerned
a world towards which she had few yearnings. There was
just one sentence which startled her attention: it said,
"We shall soon be at Knowlton — for Christmas, I
suppose. It is growing too wintry for mamma near the sea,
though I like it better in a high wind than in a calm; and
a gale is such fun — such a romp. The Bulhamptons
have arrived: the old Marchioness never appears till three
o'clock, and only out in the carriage twice since they came.
I can't say I very much admire Lady Constance, though she
is to be Chelford's wife. She has fine eyes — and I think
no other good point — much too dark for my taste —but
they say clever;" and not another word was there on this
subject.
Lady Constance! arranged, I suppose, by Lady Chel-
ford — no great dot — and an unamiable family — an
odious family — nothing to recommend her but her
rank."
So ruminated Rachel Lake as she looked out on her
shadowy garden, and tapped a little feverish tattoo with
her finger on the window pane; and she meditated a great
while, trying to bring back distinctly her recollection of
Lady Constance, and also vaguely conjecturing who had
arranged the marriage, and how it had come about.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. , 183
"Chelford cannot like her. It is all Lady ChelfordV
doing. Can I have mistaken the name?"
But no. Nothing could be more perfectly distinct than
"Chelford," traced in her fair correspondent's very legible
hand.
"lie treats the young lady very coolly," thought Ra-
chel, forgetting, perhaps, that his special relations to Dor-
cas Brandon had compelled his stay in that part of the
world.
Mingled with this criticism, was a feeling quite unavow-
ed even to herself— that Lord Chelford had been — and this
she never admitted to herself before — more particular —
no, not exactly that — but more something or other — not
exactly expressible in words, in his approaches to her, than
was consistent with his sitnation. But then she had been
very guarded; not stiff or prudish, indeed, but frank and
cold enough with him, and that was comforting.
"Rachel, Rachel, is it possible?" murmured the young
lady, with a dubious smile, looking down upon the ground,
and shaking her head. "Yes, I do really think you had
begun to like Lord Chelford — only begun, the least little
insidious bit; but thank you, wild Bessie Frankleyn, you
have quite opened my eyes. Rachel, Rachel, girl! what
a fool you were near becoming!"
She leaned for a while with her fingers upon the window
sash; and when she turned to old Tamar, who brought in
her tiny tea equipage, it seemed as if the shadow of the
dell, into which she had been vacantly gazing, still rested
on her face.
'•Not here, Tamar; I'll drink tea in my room; and
you must bring your tea-cup, too, and we'll take it togeth-
er. I am — I think I am — a little nervous, darling, and
you won't leave me?"
So they sat down together in her chamber. It was a


184 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
cheery little bedroom, when the shutters were closed, and
the fire burning brightly in the grate.
"My good Tamar will read her chapters aloud. I wish
I could enjoy them like you. 1 can only wish. You
must pray for me, Tamar. There is a dreadful image
— and I sometimes think a dreadful being— always near
me. Though the words you read are sad and awful, they
are also sweet, like funeral music a long way off, and they
tranquilize me without making me better, as the harping
of David did the troubled and forsaken King Saul."
So the old nurse mounted her spectacles, glad of the
invitation, and began to read.
"Stop," said Rachel suddenly, as she reached about the
middle of the chapter.
The old woman looked up, with her watery eyes wide
open, and there was a short pause.
"I beg your pardon, dear Tamar, but you must first
tell me that story you used to tell me long ago of Lady
Ringdove, that lived in Epping Forest, to whom the ghost
came and told something she was never to reveal, and who
slowly died of the secret, growing all the time more and
more like the spectre; and besought the priest when she
was dying, that he would have her laid in the abbey vault,
with her mouth open, and her eyes and ears sealed, in to-
ken that her term of slavery was over, that her lips might
now be open, and that her eyes were to see no more the
dreadful sight, nor her ears to hear the frightful words
that used to scare them in her life-time; and then, when-
ever afterwards they opened the door of the vault, the wind
entering in, made such moanings in her hollow mouth, and
declared things so horrible that they built up the door of
the vault, and entered it no more. Let me have the entire
story, just as you used to tell it."
So old Tamar, who knew it was no use disputing a


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 185
fancy of her young mistress, although on Sunday night
she would have preferred other talk, recounted her old
tale of wonder,
"Yes, it is true—a true allegory, I mean, Tamar.
Death will close the eyes and cars against the sights and
sounds of earth; but even the tomb secures no secrecy.
Oh, Tamar! turn over the pages, and try to find some
part which says where safety and peace may be found at
any price; for sometimes I think I am almost bereft of
CHAPTER XXXII.
MR. LARKIN AND THE VICAR.
THE good Vicar was not only dismayed but endangered
by his brother's protracted absence. It was now the first
week in November. Bleak and wintry that ungenial
month set in at Gylingden; and in accord with the tem-
pestuous and dismal weather the fortunes of the Rev.
William Wylder were darkened and agitated.
This morning a letter came at breakfast, by post, and
when he had read it, the poor Vicar grew a little white,
and he folded it very quietly and put it in his waistcoat
pocket, and patted little Fairy on the head. Little Fairy
was asking him a question all this time, very vehemently,
"How long was Jack's sword that he killed the giants
with?" and several times to this distinct question he
received only the unsatisfactory reply, " Yes, my darl-
ing;" and at last, when little Fairy mounted his knee, and
hugged the abstracted Vicar round the neck, urged his


186 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
question with kisses and lamentations, the parson answered
with a look of great perplexity, and only half-recallud
said, "Indeed, little man, I don't know. How long, you
say, was Jack's sword? Well, I dare say'it was as long
as the umbrella." He got up, with the same perplexed and
absent look, as he said this, and threw an anxious glance,
about the room, as if looking for something he had mis-
laid.
"Are you looking for anything, Willie, darling?
Your keys are in my basket."
"No, darling; no, darling— nothing. I have every-
thing I want. I think I must go to the Lodge and see
Mr. Larkin, for a moment." _
"Have you heard anything of Mark, darling?" she
enquired eagerly.
"Of Mark? Oh, no ! — nothing of Mark." And he
added with a deep sigh, "Oh, dear! I wonder he docs not
write — no, nothing of Mark."
She followed him into the hall.
"Now, Willie darling, you must not go till you hare
had your breakfast — you will make yourself ill — indeed
you will — do come back, just to please me, and eat a
little first."
"No, darling; no, my love — I can't indeed. I'll be
back immediately; but I must catch Mr. Larkin before
he goes out. It is only a little matter — I want to ask
his opinion — and — oh! here is my stick — and I'll re-
turn immediately."
So, spite of remonstrances, with a hurried kiss or two,
away he went alone, at a very quick pace, through the
high street of Gylingden, and was soon in the audience
chamber of the serious, gentleman attorney.
The attorney rose with a gaunt and sad smile of wel-
come — and begged Mr. Wylder, with a wave of his long
hand, to be seated.


WVLDER'S HAAfD 187
"Have you beard anything since, Mr Larkin? Can
you conjecture where his address may now be?" asked
the Vicar, a little abruptly.
"Oh! Mr. Majk Wylder, perhaps, you refer to?"
"Yes; my brother, Mark."
Mr. Larkin smiled a sad and simple smile, and shook
his head.
"I have heard from him this morning, however," re-
marked the lawyer; "he was pleased to direct a power
of attorney to me to receive his rents and sign receipts;
and he proposes making Lord Viscount Chelford and
Captain Lake trustees, to fund his money or otherwise in-
vest it for his use, and " —
"Has he — I beg pardon — but did he mention a little
matter in which I am deeply — indeed, vitally interest-
ed?" The Vicar paused.
"I don't quite apprehend; perhaps if you were to
frame your question a little differently, I might possibly
— a — you were saying " —
"I mean a matter of very deep interest to me," said
the poor Vicar, coloring a little, "though no very consid-
erable sum, viewed absolutely; but, under my unfortu-
nate circumstances, of the most urgent importance—a
loan of three hundred pounds — did he mention it?"
Again Mr. Larkin shook his head, with the same sad
smile.
"But, though we do not know how to find him, he
knows very well where to find us — and no doubt he re-
collects his promise, and will transmit the necessary direc-
tions all in good time."
"I earnestly hope he may," and the poor cleric lifted
up his eyes unconsciously and threw his hope into the
form of a prayer. "For, to speak frankly, Mr. Larkin,
my circumstances are very pressing. I have just heard


188 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
from Cambridge, and find that my good friend, Mr.
Mountain, the bookseller, has been dead two months, and
his wife is his sole executrix, and has sold the business,
and directed two gentlemen — attorneys — to call in all
the debts due to him — peremptorily — and they say I
must pay before the 15th; and I have but five pounds in
the world, until March, when my half-year will be paid.
And indeed, only that the trades-people here are so very
kind, we should often find it very difficult to manage."
"Perhaps," said Mr. Larkin, blandly, "you would
permit me to look at the letter you mention having re-
ceived from the solicitors at Cambridge?"
"Oh, thank you, certainly; here it is," said William
Wylder, eagerly, and he gazed with his kind, truthful
eyes upon the attorney's countenance as he glanced over
it, trying to read something of futurity therein.
"Foukes and Mauley," said Mr. Larkin. "I have
had but one transaction with them; they are not always
pleasant people to deal with. You must be cautious; in-
deed, my dear sir, very cautious. The fifteenth—just
ten clear days. Well, you know you have till then to
look about you; and we may any day hear from your
brother, directing the loan to be paid over to you. And
now, my dear and reverend friend, you know me, I hope,"
continued Mr. Larkin, very kindly, as he handed back
the letter; "and you won't attribute what I say to im-
pertinent curiosity; but your brother's intended advance
of three hundred pounds can hardly have had relation
only to this trifling claim upon you. There are, no
doubt — pardon me — several little matters to be ar-
ranged; and considerable circumspection will be needed,
pending your brother's absence, in dealing with the per-
sons who are in a position to press their claims unpleas-
antly. You must not trifle with these things. And let


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 189
me recommend you seeing your legal adviser, whoever he
is, immediately."
"You mean," said the Vicar, who was by this time
very much flushed, "a gentleman of your profession, Mr.
Larkin. Do you really think — well, it has frequently
crossed my mind — but the expense, you know; and al-
though my affairs are in a most complicated state, I am
sure that everything would be perfectly smooth if only I
had received the loan my kind brother intends.
"But, my dear sir, do you really mean to say that you
would pay claims from various quarters — how old is this,
for instance ? — without examination!"
The Vicar looked very blank.
"I — this — well, this I certainly do owe; it has in-
creased a litttle with interest, though good Mr. Mountain
never charged more than six per cent. It was I think,
about fifteen pounds — books — I am ashamed to say how
long ago.
"Were you of age, my dear sir, when he gave you these
books on credit?"
"Oh! no; not twenty; but then I owe it, and I could
not, as a Christian man, you know, evade my debts."
"Of course; but you can't pay it at present, and it
may be highly important to enable you to treat this as a
debt of honor, you perceive. Suppose, my dear sir, they
should proceed to arrest you, or to sequestrate the revenue
of your vicarage. I really must tell you, frankly, that if
you dream of escaping the most serious consequences,
you must at once place yourself and your affairs in the
hands of a competent man of business. It will probably
be found that you do not in reality owe sixty pounds of
every hundred claimed against you."
"Oh! Mr. Larkin, if I could induce you."
Mr. Larkin smiled a melancholy smile, and shook his
head.


190 WYLDER'S HAJfD.
"My dear sir, I only wish I could; but my hands are
so awfully full," and he lifted them up and shook them,
and shook- his tall, bald head at the same time, and smiled
a weary smile.
"It was very unreasonable of me to think of troubling
you with my wretched affairs; but really I do not know
very well where to turn, or whom to speak to. Maybe,
my dear sir, you can think of some conscientious and
Christian practitioner who is not so laden with other peo-
ple's cares and troubles as you are." .
Mr. Larkin stood at the window ruminating, with his
left hand in his breeches pocket, and his right, with finger
and thumb pinching his under lip, after his wont, and the
despairing accents of the poor Vicar's last sentence still
in his ear.
"Well," he said, hesitatingly, "it is not easy, at a
moment's notice, to point out a suitable solicitor; there
are many, of course, very desirable gentlemen, but I feel
it, my dear sir, a very serious responsibility, naming one
for so peculiar a matter. But you shall not go to the
wall for want of advice. Kely upon it, we'll do the best
we can for you," he continued, in a patronising way, with
his chin raised, and extending his hand kindly to shake
that of the parson. Can you give me two hours to-
morrow evening — say to tea — if you will do me the
honor. My friend, Captain Lake, dines at Brandon to-
morrow. He's staying here with me, you are aware, on
a visit; but we shall be quite by ourselves, say at seven
o'clock. Bring all your papers, and I'll get at the root
of the business, and see, if possible, in each particular
case, what line is best to be adopted."
"How can I thank you, my dear sir, cried gentle Wil-
liam Wylder, his countenance actually beaming with de-
light and gratitude. "I feel as if my prayer for direction


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 191
and deliverance were,answered at last. Oh! my dear
sir, I have suffered a great deal; but something assures
me I am rescued, and shall have a quiet mind'once more
— I am now in safe and able hands." And he shook the
safe and able, and rather large, hands of the amiable at-
torney in both his.
"You make too much of it, my dear sir. I should at
any time be most happy to advise you," said Mr. Larkin,
with a lofty and pleased benevolence, "and with great
pleasure, provisionally, until we can hit upon a satisfac-
tory solicitor, with a little more time at his disposal, I
undertake the management of your case."
"Thank Heaven!" again said the Vicar, who had not
let go his hands. "And it is so delightful to have for
my guide a Christian man, who, even were I so disposed,
would not lend himself to an unworthy or questionable
defence; and although at this moment it is not in my
power to reward your invaluable assistance " —
"Now really, my dear sir, I must insist — no more of
this, I beseech you. I do most earnestly insist that you
promise me you will never mention the matter of profess-
ional remuneration more, until, at least, I press it, which,
rely upon it, will not be for a good while."
The attorney's smile plainly said, that his "good
while" meant in fact " never."
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE LADIES OF QYLINGDEN HEATH.
JUST at this moment they became aware of a timid little
tapping which had been going on at the window during


192 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
the latter part of this conference, and looking up, the at-
torney and the Vicar saw "little Fairy's" violet eyes
peering under his light hair.
"I beg pardon," said the Vicar, rising with a sudden
smile, and going to the window. "It is my little man.
Fairy! Fairy! What has brought you here, my little
man?"
Fairy glanced, shamefacedly at the grand attorney, and
in his little fist he held a pair of rather seedy gloves to
the window pane.
"So I did. I protest I forgot my gloves. Thank you,
little man. Who is with you? Oh! I see. That is
right."
The maid ducked a short courtesy.
"Indeed, sir, please, Master Fairy was raising the
roof (a nursery phrase, which implied indescribable bel-
lowing), and as naughty as could be, until missis allowed
him to come after you."
"Oh ! my little man, you must not do that. Ask nice-
ly you know; always quietly, like a little gentleman."
"But, oh! Wapsie, your hands would be cold;" and
he held the gloves to him against the glass.
"Well, darling, thank you; you are a kind little man,
and I'll be with you in a moment," said the Vicar, smil-
ing very lovingly on his naughty little man.
"Mr. Larkin," said he, turning very gratefully to the
attorney, "you can lay this Christian comfort to your
kind heart, that you have made mine a hundredfold light-
er since I entered this blessed room, by the timely proffer
of your invaluable assistance."
Again the attorney waved off, with a benignant and
humble smile, rather oppressive to sec, all idea of obliga-
tion, and accompanied his grateful client to the glass door
of his little porch, where Fairy was already awaiting him
with the gloves in his hand.


WYLDER'S HAJVD 193
Tho attprney stood at his window with a shadow on his
face, and his small eyes a little contracted and snakelike,
following the slim figure of the threadbare Vicar and his
goldenhaired, dancing little comrade; and then he mounted
a chair, and took down successively four of his japanned
boxes; two- of them, in yellow letters, bore respectively the
label "Brandon, No. 1," and "No. 2;" the other,
"Wylder, No. 1." and " No. 2."
He opened the " Wylder" box first, and glanced through
a neat little "statement of title," prepared for counsel
when draughting the deed of settlement for the marriage
which was never to take place.
"The limitations, let me see, is not there something
that one might,be safe in advancing a trifle upon — eh ? —
h'm —yes."
And, with his lip in his finger and thumb, he conned
over those remainders and reversions with a skilled and
rapid eye.
Rachel Lake was glad to see the slender and slightly-
stooped figure of the Vicar standing that morning — his
bright little boy by the hand — in the wicket of the tiny
flower-garden of Redman's Farm. She went out quickly
to greet him. The sick man likes the sound of his kind
doctor's step on the stairs! and, be his skill much or little,
trusts in him, and will even joke a little asthmatic joke,
and smile a feeble hectic smile about his ailments, when
he is present.
So they fell into discourse among the autumnal flowers
and withered leaves; and, as the day was still and genial,
they remained standing in the garden; and away went
busy little " Fairy," smiling and chatting with Margery
to see the hens and chickens in the yard.
They talked a long while — Rachel chiefly a listener,
and often quietly weeping; and, at last, a very kindly
9


194 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
parting, and a promise from the simple and gentle Vicar
that he would often look in at Redman's Farm.
She watched his retreating figure as he and little Fairy
walked down the tenebrose road to Gylingden, following
.them with a dismal gaze, as a benighted and wounded
wayfarer in that "Valley" would the pale lamp's disap-
pearing that had for a few minutes, in a friendly hand,
shone over his dreadful darkness.
And when, in fitful reveries, fancy turned for a moment
to an earthly past and future, all there was a blank — the
past saddened, the future bleak. She did not know, or even
suspect, that she had been living in an aerial castle, and
worshipping an unreal image, until, on a sudden, all was
revealed in that chance gleam of cruel lightning, the line
in that letter, which she read so often, spelled over, and
pozzled over so industriously, though it was clear enough.
How noble, how good how bright and true, was that hero
of her unconscious romance.
Well, no one else suspected that incipient madness —
that was something; and brave Rachel would quite master
it. Happy she had discovered it so soon. Besides, it was,
even if Chelford were at her feet, a wild impossibility
now; and it was well, though despair were in the pang,
that she had, at last, quite explained this to herself.
As Rachel stood in her little garden, on the spot where
she had bidden farewell to the Vicar, she was roused from
her vague and dismal reverie by the sound of a carriage
close at hand. She had just time to see that it was a
brougham, and to recognise the Brandon liveries, when it
drew up at the garden wicket, and Dorcas called to her
from the open window.
"I'm come, Rachel, expressly to take you with me; and
I won't be denied."
"You are very good, Dorcas; thank you, dear, very


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 195
much! but I am not very well, and a very dull companion
to-day."
"You think I am going to bore you with visits. No
such thing, I assure you. I have taken a fancy to walk
on the common, that is all — a kind of longing; and you
must come with me; quite to ourselves, you and I. You
won't refuse me, darling; I know you'll come."
Well, Rachel did go. And away they drove through
the quiet town of Gylingden together, and through the
short street on the right, and so upon the still quieter
common. This plain of green turf broke gradually into a
heath; and an irregular screen of timber and underwood
divided the common of Gylingden in sylvan fashion from
the moor. The wood passed, Dorcas stopped the carriage,
and the two young ladies descended. It was a sunny day,
and the air still; and the open heath contrasted pleasantly
with the somber and confined scenery of Redman's Dell.
"It was good of you to come, Rachel," said Miss Bran-
don; "and you look tired! but you shan't speak more
than you like; and I'll tell you all the news. Chelford
is just returned from Brighton; he arrived this morning;
and he and Lady Chelford will stay for the Hunt Ball. I
made it a point. And he called at Hockley, on his way
back, to see Sir Julius. Do you know him?"
"Sir Julius Hockley? No — I've heard of him
only."
"Well, they say he is wasting his property very fast;
and I think him every way very nearly a fool; but Chel-
ford wanted to see him about Mr. Wylder. Mark Wylder,
you know, of course, has turned up again in England.
His letter to Chelford, six weeks ago, was from Boulogne;
but his last was from Brighton; and Sir Julius Ilockley
witnessed — I think they call it — that letter of attorney
which Mark sent about a week since to Mr. Larkin; and


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 197
"You blame your brother, Rachel, in this affair."
"Did I? Well — maybe — yes, he is to blame — the
miserable man — whom I hate to think of, and yet am
always thinking of— Stanley well knows is not in a state
to do it."
"Don't you think, Rachel, remembering what I have
confided to you, that you might be franker with me in
this?"
"Oh, Dorcas! don't misunderstand me. If the secret
were all my own — Heaven knows, hateful as it is, how
boldly I would risk all, and throw myself on your fidelity
or your mercy — but this is not mine — only in part —
that is, I dare not tell it — but may be soon free — and
to us all, dear Dorcas, a woful, woful day will it be."
"I made you a promise, Rachel," said her beautiful
cousin, gravely, and a little coldly and sadly, too; "I
will never break it again — it was thoughtless. Let us
each try to forget that there is anything hidden between
us."
"If ever the time comes, dear Dorcas, when I may tell
it to you, I don't know wliether you will bless or hate me
for having kept it so well; at all events, I think you'll pity
me, and at last understand your miserable cousin."
"I said before, Rachel, that I liked you. You are one
of ua, Rachel. You are beautiful, wayward, and daring,
and one way or another, misfortune always waylays us 5
and / have, I know it, calamity before me. There is not
a beautiful portrait in Brandon that has not a sad and true
story. Come, Rachel, shall we escape from the spell and
the destiny into solitude? What do you think of ray old
plan of the valleys and lakes of Wales; a pretty foreign
tongue spoken round us, and no one but ourselves to com-
mune with, and books, and music. It is not, Radie,
altogether jest. I sometimes yearn for it, as they say
foreign girls do for convent life."


198 WYLDER'S HAJVD
"Poor Dorcas," said Rachel, very softly, fixing her
eyes upon her with a look of inexpressible sadness and
pity.
"Rachel," said Dorcas, "I am a changeable being —
violent, self-willed. My fate may be quite a different one
from that which / suppose or you imagine. I may yet
have to retract my secret."
"Oh! would it were so — would to Heaven it were
so."
"Suppose, Rachel, that I had been deceiving you —
perhaps deceiving myself—time will show."
There was a wild smile on beautiful Dorcas's face as she
said this. which faded soon into the proud serenity that was
its usual character.
"Oh! Dorcas, if your good angel is near, listen to his
"o"
"We have no good angels, my poor Rachel; what
modern necromancers, conversing with tables, call " mock-
ing spirits," have always usurped their place with us.
"Dorcas, dear," said Rachel, after both had been silent,
for a time, speaking suddenly, and with a look of pale and
keen entreaty — " Beware of Stanley — oh! beware.
I think I am beginning to grow afraid of him myself."
Dorcas was not given to sighing — but she sighed —
gazing sadly across the wide, bleak moor, with her proud,
apathetic look, which seemed passively to defy futurity —
and then, for awhile, they were silent.
Each understood that the conversation on that theme
was ended, and somehow each was fclieved.


CHAPTER XXXIV.
SIR JULIUS BOOKLEY'S LEPER.
Jos LARKIN mentioned in bis conversation with the
Vicar, just related, that he had received a power of at-
torney from Mark Wylder.
This legal instrument was attested by two witnesses, and
bore date about a week before the interview, just related,
between the Vicar and Mr. Larkin. Here, then, was a
fact established. Mark Wylder had returned from
Boulogne, for the power of attorney had been executed at
Brighton. Who were the witnesses? One was Thomas
Tupton, of the Travellers' Hotel, Brighton.
This Thomas Tupton was something of a sporting cel-
ebrity, and a likely man enough to be of Mark's acquain-
tance.
The other witness was Sir Julius Hockley, of Hockley,
an unexceptionable evidence, though a good deal on the
turf.
Now our friend Jos Larkin had something of the Eed
Indian's faculty for tracking his game, by hardly percept-
ible signs and tokens, through the wilderness; and this
mystery of Mark Wylder's flight and seclusion was the
present object of his keen and patient pursuit.
On receipt of the "instrument," therefore, he wrote
by return of post, "presenting his respectful compliments
to Sir Julius Hockley, and deeply regretting that, as so-
licitor of the Wylder family, and the gentleman (sic) em-
powered to act under the letter of attorney, it was imper-


WYLDER'S HAjYD. 201
or Larkiws, or Larkme, or Larkz^s — Sir J. H. is not
able to read which or what; but he is happy to observe
at all events, that, end how he may, the gentleman begins
with a ' lark !' which Sir J. H. always does when he can.
Not being able to discover his terminal syllable, he will
take the liberty of styling him by his sprightly beginning,
and calling him shortly 'Lark ; ' and by way of a lark, Sir
J. will answer Lark's questions, which are not, he thinks,
very inpertinent. The wildest of all Lark's questions,
refers to Wylder's place of abode, which Sir J. was never
wild enough to think of asking after, and does not know;
and so little was he acquainted with the gentleman, that
he forgot he was an evangelist doing good under the style
and title of Mark. Lark may, therefore, tell Mark, if he
sees him, or his* friends — Matthew, Luke, and John —
that Sir Julius saw Mark only on two successive days, at
the cricket-match, played between Paul's Eleven and the
Ishmaelites (these, I am bound to observe, were literally
the designations of the opposing sides); and that he had
the honor of being presented to Mark — saint or sinner,
as he may be — on the ground, by his, Sir J. H.'s, friend,
Captain Stanley Lake, of the Guards."
Here was an astounding fact. Stanley Lake had been
in Mark Wylder's company only ten days ago, when that
great match was played at Brighton! What a deep gen-
tleman was that Stanley Lake, who sat at the other end
of the table with the "Times" before him. What a var-
nished rascal — what a matchless liar!
He had returned to Gylingden, direct, in all likelihood,
from his conferences with Mark Wylder, to tell all con-
cerned that it was vain endeavoring to trace him, and still
offering his disinterested services in the pursuit.
No matter! We must take things coolly and cautiously.
All this chicanery will yet break down, and the conspiracy,
0»


202 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
be it what it may, will be thoroughly exposed. Mystery
is the shadow of guilt; and, most assuredly, thought Mr.
Larkin, there is some infernal secret, well worth knowing,
sit the bottom of all this. You little think I have you
here \ and he slid Sir Julius Hockley's piece of banter
into his waistcoat pocket, and then opened and glanced at
half-a-dozen other letters, in a quick, official way, endors-
ing a little note on the back of each with his pencil.
"Paul's Eleven have challenged the Gipsies," said
Lake, languidly lifting his eyes from the paper. By-the-
by, are you anything of a cricketer? And they are to
play at Hockley, Sir Julius Hockley's ground. You know
Sir Julius, don't you?"
"Very slightly. I may say I have that honor, but we
have never been thrown together; a mere — a — the slight-
est thing in the world."
"Not schoolfellows — you are not an Eton, man, eh?''"
said Lake.
"Oh no \ My dear father would not send a boy of his
to what he called an idle school. But my acquaintance
with Sir Julius was a trifling matter. Hockley is a very
pretty place, is it not?"
"A sweet place. A great match was played between
those fellows at Brighton; Paul's Eleven beat fifteen of
the Ishmaelites, about a fortnight since; but they have
no chance with the Gipsies. It will be a one-innings af-
fair."
"Have you ever seen Pawl's Eleven play?" asked the
lawyer, carelessly taking up the newspaper which Lake had
laid down.
"I saw them play that match at Brighton, I mentioned
just now, a few days ago."
"Ah! did you?"
"Did not you know I was there?" said Lake in rath-


WYLDER'S SJ1JVD. 203
er a changed tone. Larkin looked up, and Lake laughed
in his face quietly the most impertinent laugh he had ever
seen or heard, with his yellow eyes fixed on the lawyer's
pink little optics. "I was there, and Hockley was there,
and Mark Wylder was there — was not he?" and Lake
stared and laughed, and the attorney stared; and Lake
added, "What ad— d cunning fellow you are; ha, ha,
ha!"
Larkin was not easily put out, but he was disconcerted
now; and his cheeks and forehead grew suddenly pink,
and he coughed a little, and tried to throw a look of mild
surprise into his face.
"Why, you have this moment had a letter from Hock-
ley. Don't you think I knew his hand and the post-mark,
and your look said quite plainly, 'Here's news of my
friend Stanley Lake and Mark Wylder.' I really think
I have brought my little evidences very prettily together,
and jumped to a right conclusion — eh?"
A flicker of that sinister shadow I have sometimes
mentioned crossed Larkin's face, and contracted his eyes
as he said, a little sternly —
"I have nothing on earth to conceal, sir. All my con-
duct has been as open as the light; there's not a letter,
sir, I ever write or receive, that might not, so far as / am
concerned, lie open on that table for every visitor that
comes in to read; " and the attorney waved his hand grand-
ly-
"Hear, hear, hear," said Lake, languidly, and tapping
a little applause on the table, while he watched the solici-
tor's rhetoric with his sly, disconcerting smile.
"It was but conscientious, Captain Lake, that I should
make enquiry respecting the genuineness of a legal instru-
ment conferring such powers. How on earth, sir, could I
have the slightest suspicion that you had seen my client,


204 WYLDER'S H.1JVD
Mr. Wylder, considering the tenor of your letters and con-
versation. And I venture to say, Captain Lake, thnt Lord
Chelford will be just as much surprised as I, when lie hears
it."
"But he'll not hear it; / won't tell him, and you shan't;
because I don't think it would be prudent of us — do you?
— to quarrel with Mark Wylder, and he does not wish
our meeting known. It is nothing on earth to me; on
the contrary, it rather places me in an awkward position
keeping other people's secrets."
The attorney made one of his slight, gentlemanlike
bows, and threw back his head with a lofty and reserved
look.
"I don't know, Captain Lake, that I would be quite
justified in withholding the substance of Sir Julius Hock-
ley'a letter from Lord Chelford, consulted, as I have had
the honor to be, by that nobleman. 1 shall, however, turn
it over in my mind."
"Don't the least mind me. In. fact, I would rather
tell it than not. And I can explain to Chelford why /
could not mention the circumstance. Wylder, in fact, tied
me down by a promise, and he'll be devilish angry with
you; but, it soems, you don't very much mind that."
He knew that Mr. Larkin did very much mind it; and
the quick glance of the attorney could read nothing what-
ever in the Captain's pallid face and downcast eyes, smil-
ing on the points of his varnished boots.
"Of course, you know, Captain Lake, in alluding to
the possibility of my making any communication to Lord
Chelford, I limit myself strictly to the letter of Sir Julius
Hockley, and do not, by any means, my dear Captain
Lake, include the conversation which has just occurred
and the communication which you have volunteered to
make me."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 205
"Oh! quite so," said the Captain, looking up sudden-
ly, with a momentary glare, like a man newly-waked from
a narcotic doze.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE HUNT BALL.
By this time your humble servant, the chronicler of
these Gylingden annals, had taken his leave of magnificent
old Brandon, and of Its strangely interesting young mis-
tress, and was carrying away with him, as he flew along
the London rails, the broken imagery of that grand and
shivered dream. He was destined, however, before very
long, to revisit these scenes; and in the meantime heard,
in rude outline, the tenor of what was happening — the
minute incidents and coloring of which were afterwards
faithfully communicated.
The Hunt Ball is the great annual event of Gylingden.
The critical process of "coming out" is here consumma-
ted by the young ladies of that town and vicinage. It is
looked back upon for one-half of the year, and forward
to for the other. People date by it. The battle of Ink-
erman was fought immediately before the Hunt Ball. It
was so many weeks after the Hunt Ball that the Czar
Nicholas died. Its solemn and universal importance in
Gylingden and the country round, gave me some notion
of whut the feast of unleavened bread must have been to
the Hebrews and Jerusalem.
The connubial capabilities of Gylingden are positively
wretched. When J knew it, there were but three single
men, according even to the modest measure of Gylingden


206 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
housekeeping, capable of supporting wives, and these
were difficult to please, set a high price on themselves —
looked the country round at long ranges, and were only
wistfully and meekly glanced after by the frugal vestals
of Gylingden, as they strutted round the corners, or
smoked the pipe of apathy at the reading-room windows.
Think, then, what it was, when Mr. Pummice, of Copal
and Pummice, the splendid house-painters at Dollington,
arrived with his artists and charwoman to give the As-
sembly room its annual touching-up and bedizenmentr
preparatory to the Hunt Ball. The Gylingden young
ladies used to peep in, and from the lobby observe the
wenches dry-rubbing and waxing the floor, and the great
Mr. Pummice, with his myrmidons, in aprons and paper
caps, retouching the gilding.
It was a tremendous crisis for honest Mrs. Page, the
confectioner, over the way, who, in legal phrase, had
"the carriage of the supper and refreshments, though
largely assisted by Mr. Battersby, of Dollington. Dur-
ing the few days' agony of preparation that immediately
preceded this notable orgie, the good lady's countenance
bespoke the magnitude of her cares. Though the weath-
er was usually cold, I don't think she ever was cool dur-
ing that period — I am sure she never slept — I don't
think she ate — and I am afraid her religious exercise-
were neglected.
Equally distracting, emaciating, and godless, was the
condition to which the mere advent of this festival reduced
worthy Miss Williams, the dressmaker, who had more
white muslin and young ladies on her hands than she and
her choir of needlewomen knew what to do with. During
this tremendous period Miss Williams hardly resembled
herself—her eyes dilated, her lips were pale, and her
brow corrugated with deep and inflexible lines of fear and


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 207
perplexity. But somehow, generally things came pretty
right in the end. One way or another, the gay belles
and elderly spinsters, and fat village chaperons, were in-
vested in suitable costume by the appointed hour, and in
a few weeks Miss Williams' mind recovered its wonted
tone, and her countenance its natural expression.
The great night had now arrived. Gylingden was
quite in an uproar. Rural families of eminence came in.
Some in old fashioned coaches; others, the wealthier,
more in London style. The stables of the "Brandon
Arms," of the " George Inn," of the " Silver Lion," even
of the "White House," though a good way off, and gen-
erally every vacant standing for horses in or about the
town were crowded; and the places of entertainment
were vocal with the talk of flunkies, patrician with pow-
dered heads, and splendent in variegated liveries.
The front of the Town Hall resounded with the ring
of horse-hoofs, the crack of whips, the bawling of coach-
men, the clank of carriage steps, and clang of coach
doors. A promiscuous mob of the plebs and profanum
vulgus of Gylingden beset the door, to see the ladies —
the slim and the young in white muslins and artificial
flowers, and their stout guardian angels, of maturer years,
in satins and velvets, and jewels — some real, and some
just as good, of pnste.
When the Crutchleighs, of Clay Mano'r, a good, old,
formal family, were mounting the stairs in solemn proces-
sion — they were always among the early arrivals — they
heard a piano and a tenor performing in the supper-room.
Now. Old Lady Chelford chose to patronise Mr. Page,
the Dolliugton professor, and partly, I fancy, to show that
she could turn things topsy-turvy in this town of Gyling-
den, had made a point, with the rulers of the feast, that
her client should sing half-a-dozen songs in the supper-
room before dancing commenced.


208 WYLDER'S HAJVD
Mrs. Crutchlcigh stayed her step upon the stairs ab-
ruptly, and turned, with a look of fierce surprise upon
her lean, white-headed lord, arresting thereby the upward
march of Corfe Crutchleigh, Esq. the hope of his house,
who was pulling on his gloves, with his eldest spinster
sister on his lank arm.
"There appears to be a concert going on; we came
here to a ball. Had you not better enquire, Mr. Crutch-
leigh; it would seem we have made a mistake?"
Mrs. Crutchleigh was sensitive about the dignity of
the family of Clay Manor; and her cheeks flushed above
the rouge, and her eyes flashed severely.
"That's singing — particularly loud singing. Either
we have mistaken the night, or somebody has taken upon
him to upset all the arrangements. You will be good
enough to enquire whether there will be dancing to-
night; I and Anastasia will remain in the cloak-room;
and we'll all leave if you please, Mr. Crutchleigh, if this
goes on."
The fact is, Mrs. Crutchleigh had got an inkling of
this performance, and had affected to believe it impossible;
and, detesting old Lady Chelford for sundry slights and
small impertinences, was resolved not to be put down by
presumption in that quarter.
Old Lady Chelford sat in an arm-chair in the supper-
room, where a considerable audience was collected. She
had a splendid shawl or two about her, and a certain air
of demi-toilette, which gave the Gylingden people to un-
derstand that her ladyship did not look on this gala in the
light of a real ball, but only as a sort of rustic imitation
— curious, possibly amusing, and, like other rural sports,
deserving of encouragement, for the sake of the people
who made innocent holiday there.
Mr. Page, the performer, was a plump young man,


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 209
with black whiskers, and his hair in oily ringlets, such as
may be seen in the model wigs presented on smiling, wax-
en dandies. in Mr. Rose'a front window at Dollington.
He bowed and srniied in the most unexceptionable of dress
coats, and drew off the whitest imaginable pair of kid
gloves, when he sat down to the piano, subsiding in a sort
of bow upon the music-stool, and striking those few,
brisk and noisy chords with which such artists proclaim
silence and reassure themselves.
Stanley Lake, that eminent London swell, had at-
tached himself as gentleman-in-waiting to Lady Chel-
ford's household, and was perpetually gliding with little
messages between her ladyship and the dapper vocalist of
Dollington, who varied his programme and submitted to
an occasional encore on the private order thus communi-
cated.
"I told you Chelford would be here," said Miss Bran-
don to Rachel, in a low tone, glancing at the young peer.
"I thought he had returned to Brighton. I fancied he
might be — you know the Bulhamptons are at Brigkton;
and Lady Constance, of course, has a claim on his time
and thoughts."
Rachel smiled as she spoke, and was adjusting her bo-
quet, as Dorcas made answer —
"Lady Constance, my dear Radie! That, you know,
was never more than a mere whisper; it was only Lady
Chelford and the Marchioness who talked it over — they
would have liked it very well. But Chelford won't be
managed or scolded into anything of the kind; and I as-
sure you, dear Radie, there is not the least truth in that
story about Lady Constance."
Why should Dorcas be so earnest to convince her hand-
some cousin that there was nothing in this rumor? Ra-
chel made no remark, and there was a little silence.


210 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"I'm so glad I succeeded in bringing you here," said
Dorcas; "Chelford made such a point of it; and he thinks
you are losing your spirits among the great trees and shad-
ows of Redman's Dell; and he made it quite a little cous-
inly duty that I should succeed."
At this moment Mr. Page interposed with the energetic
prelude of his concluding ditty. It was one of Tom Moore's
melodies.
Rachel leaned back, and seemed to enjoy it very much.
But when it was over, I think she would have found it
difficult to say what the song was about.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE BALL E00M.
RACHEL LAKE was standing by the piano, turning over
the leaves of the volume of "Mooro's Melodies," from
which tho artist in black whiskers and white waistcoat had
just entertained his noble patroness and his audience, when
a low, pleasant voice near her said —
"I was so glad to see that Dorcas had prevailed, and
that you were here. We both agreed that you are too
much a recluse in that Der Frieschutz Glen, and owe it to
us all to appear now and then in this upper world."
Miss Lake again looked down upon the page, and as she
did so, Lord Chelford continued.
"You are a worshipper of Tom Moore, Miss Lake?"
"An admirer, perhaps — certainly no worshipper.
Yet, I can't say. Perhaps I do worship; but if so, it is a
worship strangely mixed with contempt." And she laugh-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 211
ed a little. "A kind of adoring which I fancy belongs
properly to the lords of creation, and which we of the
weaker sex have no right to practise."
"Miss Lake is pleased to be ironical to-night," he said,
with a smile.
"Am I? I dare say. All women are. Irony is the
weapon of cowardice, and cowardice the vice of weakness.
Yet I think I was naturally bold and true. I hate cow-
ardice and deception even in myself— I hate perfidy —
I hate fraud."
She tapped a little emphasis upon the floor with her
white satin shoe, and her eyes flashed with an angry mean-
ing among the crowd at the other end of the room, as if,
following an object to whom in some way the statement
applied.
The strange bitterness of her tone, though it was low
enough, and something wild, suffering, and revengeful in
her look, did not escape Lord Chelford, and he followed
unconsciously the direction of her glance; but there was
nothing there to guide him to a conclusion.
"And yet, Miss Lake, we are all more or less cowards
or deceivers — at least, to the extent of suppression. Who
would speak the whole truth, or like to hear it — not I, I
know."
"Nor I," she said, quietly.
"I like a little puzzle and mystery — they surround
our future and our past; and the present would be insipid,
I think, without them. Now, I can't tell, Miss Lake, as
you look on Tom Moore there, and I try to read your smile,
whether you happen at this particular moment to adora or
despise him."
"Moore's is a daring morality — what do you think for
instance, of these lines?" she said, touching the verse
with her bouquet.


212 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
Lord Chelford read —
I ask not, I know not, if guilt's in thy heart:
I but know that I love tin.-, whatever thou art
He laughed.
"Very passionate, but hardly respectable. I once
knew," he continued a little more gravely, "a marriage
made upon that principle, and not very audaciously either,
which turned out very unhappily."
"So I should conjecture," she said, rising from her
chair, rather drearily and abstractedly," and there is good
old Lady Sarah. I must go and ask her how she does."
She paused for a moment, holding her bouquet drooping
towards the floor, and looking with her clouded eyes down
— down — through it; and then she looked up suddenly,
with an odd, fierce smile, and she said, bitterly enough —
"And yet, if I were a man, and capable of loving, I
could love no other way; because I suppose love to be a
madness, and the sublimest and the most despicable of
states. And I admire Moore for that flash of the fallen
angelic — it is the sentiment of a hero and a madman —
too base and too noble for this cool, wise world."
She was already moving away, nebulous in hovering folds
of snowy muslin. And she floated down like a cloud upon
the ottoman, beside old Lady Sarah, and smiled, and leaned
towards her, and talked in her sweet, low, distinct accents.
And Lord Chelford followed her, with a sad sort of smile,
admiring her greatly.
Of course, it was not every man's privilege to dance
with the splendid Lady of Brandon. Her kinsman, Lord
Chelford, did so; and now handsome Sir Harry Bracton,
six feet high, so broad-shouldered and slim-waisted, his
fine but not very wise face irradiated with indefatigable
smiles, stood and conversed with her, with that jaunty


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 213
swagger of his — boisterous, rollicking, beaming with im-
measurable self-complacency.
Stanley Lake left old Lady Chelford's side, and glided
to that of Dorcas Brandon.
"Will you dance this set — are you engaged, Miss
Brandon?" he said, in low eager tones.
"Yes, to both questions," answered she, with the faint-
est gleam of the conventional smile, and looking now
gravely again at her bouquet.
"Well the next, possibly, I hope?"
"I never do that," said the apathetic beauty, serenely.
Stanley looked as if he did not quite understand, and
there was a little silence.
"I mean, I never engage myself beyond one dance. I
hope you do not think it rude — but I never do."
"Miss Brandon can make what laws she pleases for all
here, and for some of us everywhere," he replied, with a
mortified smile and a bow.
At that moment Sir Harry Bracton arrived to claim
her, and Miss Kybes — elderly and sentimental, and in no
great request — timidly said, in a gobbling, confidential
whisper —
"What a handsome couple they do make! Does not
it quite realise your conception, Captain Lake, of young
Lochinvar, you know, and his fair Helen —
So stately his form, and so lovely her face—
"It does really; and that " one cup of wine"—you
recollect — which the hero drank; and, I dare say, it
made young Lochinvar a little noisy and swaggering, when
he proposed " treading the measure"— is not that the
phrase? Yes, really; it is a very pretty poetical paral-
lel."
When Miss Brandon returned, Lake was unfortunately


214 WVLDER'S HAJVD
on duty beside old Lady Chelford, whom it was important
to propitiate, and who was in the middle of a story — an
extraordinary favor from her ladyship; and he had the
vexation to see Lord Chelford palpably engaging Miss
Brandon for the next dance.
When she returned, she was a little tired, and doubtful
whether she would dance any more — certainly not the
next dance. So he resolved to lie in wait, and anticipate
any new suitor who might appear.
His eyes, however, happened to wander, in an unlucky
moment, to old Lady Chelford, who instantaneously sig-
nalled to him with her fan.
"— the woman," mentally exclaimed Lake, telegraph-
ing, at the same time, with a bow and a smile of deferential
alacrity, and making his way through the crowd as deftly
as he could; "what a —fool I was to go near her."
So the Captain had to assist at the dowager lady's sup-
per; and not only so, but in some sort at her digestion
also, which she chose should take place for some ten min-
utes in the chair that she occupied at the supper table.
When he escaped, Miss Brandon was engaged once
more — and to Sir Harry Bracton, for a second time.
And moreover, when he again essayed his suit, the
young lady had peremptorily made up her mind to dance
no more that night.
How can Dorcas endure that man," thought Rachel, as
she saw Sir Harry lead her to her seat, after a second
dance. "Handsome, but so noisy and foolish, and wicked;
and is not he vulgar, too?"
But Dorcas was not demonstrative. Her likings and
dislikings were always more or less enigmatical. Still
Rachel Lake fancied that she detected signs, not only of
tolerance, but of positive liking, in her haughty cousin's


WYLDER'S HAJW). -£15
demeanor, and wondered, after all, whether Dorcas was
beginning to like Sir Harry Bracton.
Twice, for a moment, their eyes met; but only for a
moment. Rachel knew that a tragedy might be — at that
instant, and under the influence of that very spectacle —
gathering its thunders silently in another part of the room,
where she saw Stanley's pale, peculiar face; and although
he appeared in nowise occupied by what was passing be-
tween Dorcas Brandon and Sir Harry, she well knew that
nothing of it escaped him.
The sight of that pale face was a cold pang at her heart
— a face prophetic of evil, at sight of which the dark
curtain which hid futurity seemed to sway and tremble, as
if a hand from behind was on the point of drawing it.
Rachel sighed profoundly, and her eyes looked sadly
through her bouquet on the floor.
"I'm very glad you come, Radie," said a sweet voice,
which somehow made her shiver, close to her ear. "This
kind of thing will do you good; and you really wanted a
little fillip. Shall I take you to the supper-room?"
"No, Stanley, thank you; I prefer remaining."
"Have you observed how Dorcas has treated me this
evening?"
"No, Stanley; nothing unusual is there?" answered
Rachel, glancing uneasily round, lest they should be over-
heard.
"Well, I think she has been more than usually repul-
sive — quite marked; I almost fancy these Gylingden
people, dull as they are, must observe it. I have a notion
I shan't trouble Gylingden or her after to-morrow."
Rachel glanced quickly at him. He was deadly pale;
and he returned her glance for a second wildly, and then
dropped his eyes to the ground.
"I told you" he resumed again, after a short pause,


216 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
and commencing with a gentle laugh, that she liked that
fellow, Bracton."
"You did say something, I think, of that, some time
since," said Rachel; "but really "—
- " But really, Radie, dear, you can't need any confir-
mation more than this evening affords. AVe both know Dor-
cas very well; she is not like other girls. She does not
encourage fellows as they do; but if she did not like Brac-
ton very well, indeed, she would send him about his
business. She has danced with him twice, on the contrary,
and has suffered his agreeable conversation all the even-
ing; and that from Dorcas Brandon means, you know,
everything."
"I don't know that it means anything. I don't see
why it should; but I am very certain, Stanley, that if
this supposed preference leads you to abandon your wild
pursuit of Dorcas, it will prevent more ruin than, perhaps>
either of us anticipates; and, Stanley," she added in a
whisper, looking full in his eyes, which were raised for a
moment to hers, "it is hardly credible that you dare still
to persist in so desperate and cruel a project."
"Thank you," said Stanley quietly, but the yellow
lights glared fiercely from their sockets, and were then
lowered instantly to the floor.
"She has been very rude to me to-night; and you have
not been, or tried to be, of any earthly use to me; and I
will take a decided course. I perfectly know what I'm
about. You don't seem to be dancing, /have not either;
we have both got something more serious, I fancy, to think
of."
And Stanley Lake glided slowly away, and was lost in
the crowd. He went into the supper-room, and had a
glass of seltzer water and sherry. He loitered at the
table. His ruminations were dreary, I fancy, and his


218 WVLDER'S HAJVD
Now, Sir Harry's rudeness to Lake had not been, I am
afraid, altogether accidental. The baronet was sudden and
vehement in his affairs of the heart; but curable on short
absences, and easily transferable. 'He had been vehemently
enamored of the heiress of Brandon a year ago and
more; but during an absence Mark Wylder's suit grew up
and prospered, and Sir Harry Bracton acquiesced; and,
to say truth, the matter troubled his manly breast but
little.
He had hardly expected to see her here in this rollick-
ing rustic gathering. She was, he thought, even more
lovely than he remembered her. Wylder had gone off
the scene, as Mr. Carlyle says, into infinite space. Who
could tell exactly the cause of his dismissal, and why the
young lady had asserted her capricious resolve to be
free?
There were pleasant theories adaptable to the circum-
stances; and Sir Harry cherished an agreeable opinion of
himself; and so the old flame blazed up wildly, and the
young gentleman was more in love then, and for some
weeks after the ball, than perhaps he had ever been be-
fore.
Now some men — and Sir Harry was one of them —
are churlish and ferocious over their loves, as certain
brutes are over their victuals. In one of those tender
paroxysms, when in the presence of his dulcinea, the
young Baronet was always hot, short, and saucy, with his
own sex; and when his jealousy was ever so little touch-
ed, positively impertinent.
He perceived what other people did not, that Miss Bran-
don's eye once on that evening rested on Captain Lake
with a peculiar expression of interest. This look was but
once and momentary; but the young gentleman resented
it, brooded over it, every now and then, when the pale


WYLDER'S HJ1JVD. 219
face of the Captain crossed his eye; and two or three
times, when the beautiful young lady's attention seemed
to wander from his agreeable conversation, he thought he
detected her haughty eye moving in the same direction.
So he looked that way too; and although he could see
nothing noticeable in Stanley's demeanor, he could have
felt it in his heart to box his ears.
Therefore, I don't think he was quite so careful as he
might have been to spare Lake that jolt upon the elbow,
which coming from a rival in a moment of public triumph
was not altogether easy to bear like a Christian.
"Some grapes, please," said Lake, to the young lady
behind the table.
"Oh, wide! Is that you, Lake ? — beg pardon; but
you are so like my poor dear uncle, Langton. I wish you'd
let me adopt you for an uncle. He was such a pretty fel-
low, with his fat white cheeks and long nose, and he look-
ed half asleep. Do, pray, Uncle Lake; I should like it
so," and the Baronet, who was, what some people would
term, perhaps, vulgar, winked over his glass at the bloom-
ing confectioner, who tittered over her shoulder at the
.handsome Baronet's charming banter.
The girl having turned away to titter, forgot Lake's
grapes; so he helped himself, and leaning against the ta-
ble, looked superciliously upon Sir Harry, who was not
to be deterred by the drowsy gaze of contempt with which
the Captain retorted his angry " chaff."
"Poor uncle died of love, or chicken-pock, or some-
thing, at forty. You're not ailing, Nunkie, are you?
You do look wofully sick, though; too bad to lose a sec-
ond uncle at the same early age. You're near forty, eh,
Nunkie? and such a pretty fellow! You'll take care of'
me in your will, Nunkie, won't you? Come, what will
you leave me; not much tin, I'm afraid."


220 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"No, not much tin," answered Lake; "but I'll leave
you what you want more, my sense and decency, with a
request that you will use them for my sake."
"You're a devilish witty fellow, Lake; take care your
wit don't get you into trouble," said the Baronet, chuck-
ling and growing angrier, for he saw the Hebe laughing;
and not being a ready man, though given-to banter, he
sometimes descended to menace in his jocularity.
"I was just thinking your dullness might do the same
for you," drawled Lake.
"When do you mean to pay Dawlings that bet on the
Derby?" demanded Sir Harry, hig face very red, and
only the ghost of his smile grinning there. "I think
you'd better; of course it is quite easy."
The Baronet was smiling his best, with a very red face
and that unpleasant uncertainty in his contracted eyes
which accompanies suppressed rage.
"As easy as that," said Lake, chucking a little bunch
of grapes full into Sir Harry Bracton's handsome face.
Lake recoiled a step; his face blanched as white as the
cloth; his left arm lifted, and his right hand grasping tho
haft of a table-knife.
There was just a second in which the athletic Baronet
stood, as it were breathless and incredulous, and then his
Herculean fist whirled in the air with a most unseemly
oath: the girl screamed, and a crash of glass and crock-
ery, whisked away by their coats, resounded on the
ground.
A chair between Lake and Sir Harry impeded the Bar-
onet's stride, and his uplifted arm was caught by a gen-
tleman in moustache, who held so fast that there was no
chance of shaking it loose.
"The people — hang it! — you'll have all the people
about you. Quiet — quiet — can't you, I say. Settle it
quietly. Here I am."


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 221
"Well, let me go; that will do," said he, glowering
furiously at Lake, who confronted him, in the same atti-
tude, a couple of yards away. "You'll hear," and he
turned away.
"I am at the ' Brandon Arms' till to-morrow," said
Lake, very quietly, to the gentleman in moustaches, who
bowed slightly, and walked out of the room with Sir Har-
ry-
Lake poured out some sherry in a tumbler, and drank
it off. He was a little bit stunned, I think, in his new
situation.
Except for the waiters, and the actors in it, it so hap-
pened that the supper-room was empty during this sudden
fracas. Lake stared at the frightened girl, in his fierce
abstraction. Then, with his wild gaze, he followed the
line of his adversary's retreat, and shook his ears slightly
like a man at whose hair a wasp has buzzed.
"Thank you,'-' said he to the maid, suddenly recollect-
ing himself, with a sort of smile; "That will do. What
confounded nonsense! He'll be quite cool again in five
minutes. Never mind."
And Lake pulled on his white glove, glancing down the
file of silent waiters —some looking frightened, and some
reserved — in white ties and waistcoats, and he glided out
of the room — his mind somewhere else — like a somnam-
bulist.


CHAPTER XXXVIII.
AFTER THE BALL.
LAKE glided from the feast with a sense of a tremen-.
dous liability upon him. There was no retreat. The
morning — yes, the morning — what then? Should he
live to see the evening? Sir Harry Bracton was the
crack shot of Swivel's gallery. There he was, talking to
old Lady Chelford. Very well; and there was that
fellow with the twisted moustache — plainly an officer and
a gentleman — twisting the end of one of them, and thinking
profoundly, evidently considering his coming diplomacy
with Lake's "friend." Aye, by the bye, and Lake's eye
wandered in bewilderment among village dons and elderly
country gentlemen, in search of that inestimable treasure.
"Monstrous hot, sir — hey? ha, ha, by Jove!" said
Major Jackson, who had just returned from the supper-
room, where he had heard several narratives of the oc-
currence. Don't think I was so hot since the ball at
Government House, by Jove, sir, in 1828 — awful sum-
mer that!"
The Major was jerking his handkerchief under his
florid nose and chin, by way of ventilation; and eyeing
the young man shrewdly the while, to read what he might
of the story in his face.
"Been in Calcutta, Captain Lake?"
"No; very hot, indeed. Could I say just a word with
you — this way a little. So glad I met you." And
they edged into a little nook of^the lobby, where they


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 223
had a few minutes' confidential talk, during which the
Major looked grave and consequential, and carried his
head high, nodding now and then with military decision.
Major Jackson whispered an abrupt word or two in his
ear, and threw back his head, eyeing Lake with grave
and sly defiance. Then came another whisper and a
wink; and the Major shook his hand, briefly but hard,
and the gentlemen parted.
Lake strolled into the ball-room, and on to the upper
end, where the "best" people are and suddenly he was
in Miss Brandon's presence.
"I've been very presumptuous, I fear to-night, Miss
Brandon," he said, in his peculiar low tones. "I've
been very importunate — I prized the honor I sought so
very much, I forgot how little I deserved it. And I do
not think it likely you'll see me for a good while — pos-
sibly for a very long time. I've therefore ventured to
come, merely to say good-bye — only that, just — good-
bye. And — and to beg that flower " — and he plucked
it resolutely from her bouquet —" which I will keep
while I live. Good-bye, Miss Brandon."
And Captain Stanley Lake, that pale apparition was
gone.
I do not know at all how Miss Brandon felt at this in-
stant; for I never could quite understand that strange
lady. But I believe she looked a little pale as she grave-
ly adjusted the flowers so audaciously violated by the
touch of the cool young gentleman.
I can't say whether Miss Brandon deigned to follow
him with her dark, dreamy gaze. I rather think not.
And three minutes afterwards he had left the Town Hall.
The Brandon party did not stay very late. And they
dropped Rachel at her little dwelling. How very silent
Dorcas was, thought Rachel, as they drove from Gyling-


224 WYLDER'S HAJVD
den. Perhaps others were thinking the same of Rachel.
Next morning, at half-past seven o'clock, a dozen or so
of rustics, under command of Major Jackson, arrived at
the back entrance of Brandon Hall, bearing Stanley Lake
upon a shutter, with glassy eyes, that did not seem to see,
sunken face, and a very blue tinge about his mouth.
The Major fussed into the house, and saw and talked
with Larcom, who was solemn and bland upon the sub-
ject, and went out, first to make personal inspection of
the Captain, who seemed to him to be dying. He was
shot somewhere in the shoulder or breast — they could
not see exactly where, nor disturb him as he lay. A
good deal of blood had flowed from him, upon the arm
and side of one of the men who supported his head.
Lake said nothing — he only whispered rather indis-
tinctly one word, " water " —and was not able to lift his
head when it came; and when they poured it into and
over his lips, he sighed and closed his eyes.
"It is not a bad sign, bleeding so freely, but he looks
devilish shaky, you see. I've seen.lots of our fellows
hit, you know, and I don't like his looks — poor fellow.
You'd better see Lord Chelford this minute. He could
not stand being brought all the way to the town. I'll
run down and send up the doctor, and he'll take him on
'if he can bear it."
The Major surprised Doctor Buddle shaving. He
popped in unceremoniously. The fat little doctor received
him in drawers and a very tight web worsted shirt,
standing by the window, at which dangled a small looking-
glass.
"By George, sir, they've b*een at mischief," burst forth
the.Major; and th'e Doctor, razor in hand, listened with
wide open eyes and half his face lathered, to the story.
Before it was over the Doctor shaved the unshorn side,


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 225
and (the Major still in the room) completed his toilet in
hot haste. •
Honest Major Jackson was verj uncomfortable. Of
course, Buddle could not give any sort of opinion upon a
case which he had not seen; but it described uglily, and
the Major consulted in broken hints, with an uneasy wink
or two, about a flight to Boulogne.
"Well, it will be no harm to be ready; but take no
step till I come back," said the Doctor, who had stuffed a
great roll of lint and plaster, and some other medicinals
into one pocket, and his case of instruments, forceps,
probe, scissors, and all the other -steel and silver horrors,
into the other; so he strutted forth in his great coat un-
naturally broad about the hips; and the Major, "devil-
ish uncomfortable," accompanied him at a smart pace to
the great gate of Brandon.
Lord Chelford being an early man, was, notwithstand-
ing the ball of the preceding night, dressing, when St.
Ange, his Swiss servant, knocked at his door with a doz-
en pocket handkerchiefs, a bottle of eau-de-cologne, and
some other properties of his metier.
St. Ange could not wait until he had laid them down,
but broke out with —
Oh, mi Lor!—qu'est-il arrive? — le pauvre capi-
taine! il est tue — il se meurt — he dies — d'un coup de
pistolet. He comes de se battre from beating himself in
duel — il a e*te atteint dans la poitrine — le pauvre gen-
tilhomme! of a blow of the pistol."
And so on, the young nobleman gathering the facts as
best he might.
"Is Larcom there?"
"In the gallery, mi Lor."
"Ask him to come'in."
So Monsieur Larcom entered, and bowed ominously.


226 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
"You've seen him Larcom. Is he very much hurt?"
"He appears my Lord to me, I regret to say, almost a-
dying like."
"Very weak? Does he speak to you?"
"Not a word, my Lord. Since he got a little water
he's quite quiet."
"Poor fellow. Where have you put him?"
"In the housekeeper's lobby, my Lord. I rather think
he's-a-dying. He look's uncommon bad, and I and Mrs.
Esterbroke, the housekeeper, my Lord thought you would
not like he should die out of doors."
"Has she got your mistress's directions?"
"Miss Brandon is not called up, my Lord, and Mrs.
Esterbroke is unwillin' to halarm her; so she thought it
better I should come for orders to your lordship; which
she thinks also the poor young gentleman is certainly a-
dying."
"Is there any vacant bedroom near where you have
placed him? What does Mrs. the housekeeper, say?"
"She thinks, my Lord, the room hopposit, where Mr.
Sledd, the architeck, slep, when 'ere, would answer very
nice. It is roomy and hairy, and no steps. Major Jack-
son, who is gone to the town to fetch the doctor, my Lord,
says Mr. Lake won't a-bear carriage; and so the room on
the level, my Lord, would, perhaps, be more convenient."
"Certainly; tell her so. I will speak to Miss Bran-
don when she comes down. How soon will the doctor be
here?"
"From a quarter to half an hour, my Lord."
"Then tell the housekeeper to arrange as she proposes.
and don't remove his clothes until the doctor comes.
Everyone must assist. I know, St. Ange, you'll like to
assist."
So Larcom withdrew ceremoniously and Lord Chel-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 227
ford hastened his toilet, and was down stairs, and in the
room assigned by the housekeeper to the ill-starred Cap-
tain Lake, before Doctor Buddle had arrived.
It had already the dismal character of a sick chamber.
Its light was darkened; its talk was in whispers; and its
to-ingd and fro-ings on tip-toe. An obsolete chambermaid
had been already installed as nurse. Little Mrs. Ester-
broke, the housekeeper, was fussing hither and thither
about the room noiselessly.
While the wounded Captain lay on the bed, with his
clothes on, and the coverlet over him, and that clay-
colored apathetic face, with closed eyes, upon the pillow,
without sigh or motion, not a whispered word escaped him;
but his brain was appalled, and his heart died within him
in the unspeakable horror of death.
Lord Chelford, too, having looked on Lake with silent,
but awful misgivings, longed for the arrival of the Doctor;
and was listening and silent when Buddle's short step and
short respiration were heard in the passage. So Larcom
came to the door to announce the Doctor in a whisper,
and Buddle fussed into the room, and made his bow to
Lord Chelford, and his brief compliments and condolen-
ces.
"Not asleep?" he enquired, standing by the bed.
The Captain's lips moved a disclaimer, I suppose, but
no sound came.
So the Doctor threw open the window-shutters, and
clipped Stanley Lake's exquisite coat ruthlessly through
with his scissors, and having cleared the room of all use-
less hands, he made his examination.
It was a long visit. Buddle in the hall afterwards de-
clined breakfast — he had a board to attend. He told
Lord Chelford that the case was " a very nasty one."
In fact, the chances were against the Captain, and he,


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Buddle, would wish a consultation with a London surgeon
— whoever Lord Chelford had most confidence in — Sir
Francis Seddley, he thought, would be very desirable —
but, of course, it was for the family to decide. If the
messenger caught the quarter to eleven up train at Dol-
lington, he would be in London at six, and could return
with the Doctor by the down mail train, and so reach
Dollington at ten minutes past four next morning, which
would answer, as he would not operate sooner.
As the Doctor toddled towards Gylingden, with sympa-
thetic Major Jackson by his side, before they entered the
town they were passed by one of the Brandon men riding
at a hard canter for Dollington.
The ladies that morning had tea in their rooms. It
was near twelve o'clock when Lord Chelford saw Miss
Brandon. She was in the conservatory among her flow-
ers, and on seeing him stepped into the drawing-room.
"I hope, Dorcas, you are not angry with me. I've
been, I'm afraid, very impertinent; but I was called on
to decide for you, in your absence, and they all thought
poor Lake could not be moved on to Gylingden without
danger."
"You did quite rightly. Chelford, and I thank you,"
said Miss Brandon, coldly; and she seated herself, and
continued —
"Pray, what does the Doctor really say?"
"He speaks very seriously."
Miss Brandon looked down, and then, with a pale gaze,
suddenly in Chelford's face —
"He thinks he may die ?" said she.
"Yes," said Lord Chelford, in a very low tone, return-
ing her gaze solemnly.
"And nobody to advise but that village doctor, Buddle
— that's hardly creditable, I think."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 229
"Pardon me. At his suggestion I have sent for Sir
Francis Seddley, from town, and I hope he may arrive
early to-morrow morning."
"Why, Stanley Lake may die to-day."
"He does not apprehend that. But it is necessary to
remove the bullet, and the operation will be critical, and
it is for that specially that Sir Francis is coming down."
"It is to take place to-morrow, and he'll die in that
operation. You know he'll die," said Dorcas, pale and
fierce.
"I assure you, Dorcas, I have been perfectly frank.
He looks upon poor Lake as in very great danger — but
that is all."
"What brutes you men are!" said Dorcas, with a
wild scorn in her look and accent, and her cheeks flushed
with passion. "You knew quite well last night there
was to be this wicked duel in the morning — and you —
a magistrate — a lord lieutenant — what are you ? — you
connived at this bloody conspiracy — and he —your own
cousin, Chelford — your cousin!"
Chelford looked at her very much amazed.
"Yes; you are worse than Sir Harry Bracton — for
you're no fool; and worse than that wicked old man,
Major Jackson — who shall never enter these doors again
— for he was employed — trusted in their brutal plans;
but you had no excuse and every opportunity — and you
have allowed your cousin Stanley to be murdered."
"You do me great injustice, Dorcas. I did not know,
or even suspect that a hostile meeting between poor Lake
and Bracton was thought of. I merely heard that there
had been some trifling altercation; and when, intending to
make peace between them, I alluded to it, just before we
left, Bracton said it was really nothing — quite blown
over — and that he could not recollect what either had


230 WYLDER'S HAjYD.
said. I was entirely deceived. They think it fair, you
know, to dupe other people in such affairs; and I will also
say," he continued, a little haughtily, "that you might
have spared your censure until at least you had heard
•what I had to say."
"I do believe you, Chelford; you are not vexed with
me. Won't you shake hands?"
He took her hand with a smile.
"And now," said she, "Chelford, ought not we to send
for poor Rachel: her only brother! Is not it sad?"
"Certainly; shall I ask my mother, or will you
write?"
"I will write," she said.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
IN WHICH MISS RACHEL LAKE COMES TO BRANDON, AND
DOCTOR BUDDLE CALLS AGAIN.
IN about an hour afterwards, Rachel Lake arrived in
the carriage which had been despatched for her with Dor-
cas's note. Dorcas met her at the door, and they kissed
silently.
"How is he, Dorcas?"
"Very ill, dear, I'm afraid — sit down, darling."
Rachel was relieved, for in her panic she almost feared
to ask if he were living.
"Oh! Dorcas, darling, he'll die; I know it. Oh!
merciful Heaven! how tremendous."
"You will not be so frightened in a little time. You
have only just heard it, Rachel dearest, and you are start-
led. I was so myself."


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 231
"I'd like to see him, Dorcas."
"Sit here a little and rest, dear. The Doctor will
make his visit immediately, and then we can ask him.
He's a good-natured creature — poor old Buddle — and I
am certain if it can safely be, he won't prevent it."
"Where is he, darling — where is Stanley?"
So Dorcas described as well as she could.
"Oh, poor Stanley. Oh, Stanley — poor Stanley,"
gasped Rachel, with white lips. "You have no idea,
Dorcas — no one can — how terrific it is. Oh, poor Stan-
ley — poor Stanley."
Drink this water, darling; you must not be so excited."
"Dorcas, say what the Doctor may, see him I must."
"There is time to think of that, darling."
"Has he spoken to any one?"
"Very little, I believe. He whispers a few words now
and then — that is all."
"Did he wish to see no one?"
"No. one, dear."
"Not poor William Wylder?"
"No, dear. I don't suppose he cares more for a cler-
gyman than for any other man; none of his family ever
did, when they came to lie on a bed of sickness, or of
death either."
"No, no," said Rachel, wildly; "I did not mean to
pray. I was not thinking of that; but William Wylder
was different; and he did not mention me either?"
Dorcas shook her head.
"Please, Miss Brandon, the Doctor's down stairs with
Captain Lake," said the maid, opening the door.
"Is Lord Chelford with him?"
"Yes, miss, please."
"Then tell him I will be so obliged if he will come
here for a moment, when the Doctor is gone; and ask the
Doctor now, from me, how he thinks Captain Lake."


232 WYLDER'S H.1JVO
In a little while the maid returned. Captain Lake was
not so low, and rather better than this morning, the Doc-
tor said; and Rachel raised her eyes, and whispered an
agitated thanksgiving.
"Was Lord Chelford coming?"
"His lordship had left the room when she returned
and Mr. Larcom said he was with Lawyer Larkin in the
library."
"Mr. Larkin can wait. Tell Lord Chelford I wish very
much to see him here."
So away went the maid again. A message in that
great house was a journey; and there' was a little space
before they heard a knock at the door of Dorcas's pretty
room, and Lord Chelford, duly invited, came in.
Lord Chelford was surprised to see Rachel, and held her
hand, while he congratulated her on the more favorable opin-
ion of the physician this afternoon; and then he gave
them, as exactly as he could, all the lights, emitted by Dr.
Buddle, and endeavored to give his narrative as cheerful
and confident an air as he could.
Then, at length, he reccollected that Mr. Larkin was
waiting in the study.
I quite forgot Mr. Larkin," said he; "I left him in
the library, and I am so very glad we have had a pleas-
anter report upon poor Lake this evening; and I am sure
we shall all feel more comfortable on seeing Sir Francis
Seddley. He is such an admirable surgeon; and I feel
sure he'll strike out something for our poor patient."
So with a kind smile he left the room.
Then there was a long pause.
"Does he really think that Stanley will recover?" said
Rachel.
"I don't know; I suppose he hopes it. I don't know,
Rachel, what to think of any one or anything. Have you
any idea what they quarreled about?"


234 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
So saying, Rachel left the room, and gliding through
passages, and down stairs, she knocked at Stanley's door.
The old woman opened it.
"Ah, Dorothy! I'm so glad to see you here ;" and
she put a present into her hard, crumpled hand.
So, noiselessly, Rachel Lake, without more parley, step-
ped into the room, and closed the door. She was alone
with Stanley.
The room was not so dark that she could not see dis-
tinctly enough.
There lay her brother, such as he was — still her broth-
er, on the bleak, nuetral ground between life and death.
He did not move, but his strange eyes gazed cold and ear-
nest from their deep sockets upon her face in awful si-
lence. Perhaps he thought he saw a phantom.
"Are you better, dear?" whispered Rachel.
His lips stirred and his throat, but he did not speak
until a second effort brought utterance, and he murmured,
"Is that you, Radio?"
"Yes, dear. Are you better?"
"No. I'm shot. I shall die to-night. Is it night
yet?"
"Don't despair, Stanley, dear. The great London doc-
tor, Sir Francis Seddley, will be with you early in the
morning, and Chelford has great confidence in him. I'm
sure he will relieve you."
"This is Brandon?" murmured Lake.
"Yes, dear."
She thought he was going to say more, but he remain-
ed silent, and she recollected that he ought not to speak,
and also that she had that to say which must be said.
"Oh,- Stanley! you say you think you are dying.
Won't you send for William Wylder and Chelford, and
tell all you know of Mark?"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 235
She saw he was about to say something, and she leaned
her head near his'lips, and she heard him whisper, —
"It won't serve Mark."
"I'm thinking of you, Stanley — I'm thinking of
you."
To which he said either "Yes " or " So." She could
not distinguish.
"I view it now quite differently. You said, you know,
in the park, you would tell Chelford; and I resisted, I
believe; but I don't now. I had rather you did. Yes,
Stanley, I conjure you to tell it all."
He said something. She thought it was " I'll think;"
and then he closed his eyes. It was the only motion she"
had observed, his face lay just as it had done on the pillow.
He had not stirred all the time she was there; and now,
that his eyelids closed, it seemed to say, our interview is
over — the curtain has dropped; and so understanding it,
with that one awful look that may be the last, she glided
from the bed-side, told old Dorothy that he seemed dispos-
ed to sleep, and left the room.
In the meanwhile, on his return to the library, Lord
Chelford found his dowager mother in high chat with the
attorney, whom she afterwards pronounced "a very gentle-
manlike man for his line of life."
The conversation, indeed, was chiefly that of Lady
Chelford, the exemplary attorney contributing, for the
most part, a polite acquiescence, and those reflections which
most appositely pointed the moral of her ladyship's tale,
which concerned altogether the vagaries of Mark Wylder
— a subject which piqued her curiosity and irritated her
passions.
It was a great day for Jos Larkin; for by the time
Lord Chelford returned the old lady had asked him to stay
for dinner, which he did, notwithstanding his morning


WYLDEK'S HAJVD. 237
adds, it will then be quite understood that he has acted
neither from caprice, nor from any motive other than
self-preservation. I assure you, my Lord, that is the
identical phrase he employs — self-preservation. I all
along suspected, or, rather, I mean, supposed, that Mr.
Wyjder had been placed in this matter under coercion —
a — threat."
"A little more wine?" asked Lord Chelford, after
another interval.
"No — no more, I thank you. Your lordship's very
good, and the wine, I may say, excellent — delicious
claret; indeed, quite so; but it grows late, I rather think,
and the trustees of our little Wesleyan chapel — we've got
a little into debt in that quarter, I am sorry to say — and
I promised to advise with them this evening at nine o'clock.
They have called me to counsel more than once, poor
fellows; and so, with your lordship's permission, I'll with-
draw."
Lord Chelford walked with him to the steps. It was a
beautiful night — very little moon, but that and the stars
wonderfully clear and bright, and all things looking so soft
and airy.
"Try one of these," said the peer, presenting his cigar
case.
Larkin, with a glow of satisfaction, took one of these
noble cigars, and rolled it in his fingers, and smelt it.
"Fragrant—wonderfully fragrant!" he observed,
meekly, with a connoisseur's shake of the head.
The night was altogether so charming that Lord Chel-
ford was tempted. So he took his cap, and lighted his
cigar, too, and strolled a little way with the attorney.
He walked under the solemn trees — the same under
whose airy groyning Wylder and Lake had walked away
together on that noteworthy night on which Mark had last


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 239
maybe, or delirium — some awful change, probably — for
Buddle did not return.
Old Major Jackson heard of it, in his early walk, at
Buddle's door. He had begun to grow more hopeful.
But hearing this he walked home, and replaced the dress-
coat and silk stockings he had ventured to remove, prompt-
ly in his valise, which he buckled down and locked —
swallowed with agitated voracity some fragments of break-
fast — got on his easy boots and gaiters — brushed his
best hat, and locked it into its leather case — placed his
rug, great-coat, and umbrella, and a rough walking-stick
for service, and a gold-tipped, exquisite cane, for duty on
promenades of fashion, neatly on top of his valise, and
with his old white hat and shooting-coat on, looking and
whistling as much as possible as usual, he popped care-
lessly into John Hobbs's stable, where he was glad to see
three horses standing, and he mentally chose the black cob
for his flight to Dollington.
"A bloodthirsty rascal that Bracton," muttered the
Major. The expenses were likely to be awful, and some
allowance was to be made far his state of mind.
He was under Doctor Buddle's porch, and made a flimsy
rattle with his thin brass knocker. "Maybe he has return-
ed?" He did not believe it, though.
The door was opened. The Doctor peeped out of his
parlor.
"Well?" enquired the Major, confoundedly frighten-
ed.
"Pretty well, thank ye, but awfully fagged — up all
night, and no use."
"But how is he?" asked the Major, with a dreadful
qualm of dismay.
"Same as yesterday — no change — only a little bleed-
ing last night — not arterial; venous, you know — only
v,enous."


240 WYLDEWS HAJVD
"Think he'll do then?"
"He may — very unlikely though. A nasty case, as
you can imagine."
"He will certainly not go, poor fellow, before four
o'clock P. M., I dare say — eh?"
The Major's soul was at the Dollington station, and
was regulating poor Lake's departure by ''Bradshaw's
Guido."
"Who knows? We expect Sir Francis this morning.
Glad to have a share of the responsibility off my shoulders,
I can tell you. Come in and have a chop, will you?"
"No, thank you, I've had my breakfast."
I found in my lodgings in London, on my return from
Doncaster, some two months later, a copy of the county
paper of this date, with a cross scrawled beside the piece
of intelligence which follows. I knew that tremulous
cross. It was traced by the hand of poor old Miss Kybes
— with her many faults always kind to me. It bore the
Brandon postmark, and altogether had the impress of
authenticity. It said :—
"We have much pleasure in stating that the severe in-
jury sustained four days since by Captain Stanley Lake,
at the time a visitor, is not likely to prove so difficult of
treatment or so imminently dangerous as was at first ap-
prehended. The gallant gentleman was removed from
the scene of his misadventure to Brandon Hall, close to
which the accident occurred, and at which mansion his
noble relatives, Lord Chelford and the Dowager Lady
Chelford, are at present staying on a visit. Sir Francis
Seddley came down express from London, and assisted by
our skilful county practitioner, Humphrey Buddle, Esq.
M. D. of Gylingden, operated most successfully on Sat-
urday last, and we are happy to say the gallant patient
has since been going on as favorably as could possibly have


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 241
been anticipated. Sir Francis Seddley returned to London
on Sunday afternoon."
Within a week after the operation, Buddle began to
talk so confidently about his patient, that the funeral
cloud that overhung Brandon had almost disappeared, and
Major Jackson had unpacked his portmanteau.
About a week after the " accident;' there came one of
Mark Wylder's strange letters to Mr. Jos Larkin. This
time it was from Marseilles, and bore date the 27th of
November. ft was much the longest he had yet received,
and was in the nature of a despatch, rather than of those
short notes in which.he had hitherto, for the most part
communicated.
Like the rest of his letters it was odd, but written, as
it seemed, in better spirits.
"DEAR LARKIN,— You will be surprised to find mo in
this port, but I think my secret cruise is nearly over now,
and you will say the plan was a master-stroke, and well
executed by a poor devil, with nobody to advise him. I
am coiling such a web round them, and making it fast, as
you may see a spider, first to this point and then to the
oilier, that I won't leave my persecutors one solitary
chance of escape. I'll draw it quietly round and round
— closer and closer — till they can neither blow nor budge,
and then up to the yardarm they go, with what breath is
left in them. You don't know yet how I am dodging, or
why my measures are taken; but I'll shorten your long
face a good inch with a genuine broad grin when you
learn how it all was. I may see you to tell the story in
four weeks' time; but keep this close. Don't mention
where I write from, nor even so much as my name. I
have reasons fur everything, which you may guess, I dare
say, being a sharp chap; and it is not for nothing, be very
11


242 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
sure, that I am running this queer rig, masquerading,
hiding, and dodging, like a runaway forger, which is not
pleasant any way, and if you doubt it only try. You
must arrange about Chelford and Lake. I don't know where
Lake is staying. I don't suppose.at Brandon; but he
won't stay in the country nor spend his money to please
you or I. Therefore you must have him at your house —
be sure — and I will square it with you; I think three
pounds a week ought to do it very handsome. Don't be
a muff and give him expensive wines — a pint of sherry
is plenty between you; and when he dines at his club
half-a-pint does him, / know; but if he costs you more, I
hereby promise to pay it. Won't that do? Well, about
Chelford: I have been thinking he takes airs, and maybe
he is on his high-horse about that awkward business about
Miss Brandon. But there is no reason why Captain Lake
should object. He has only to hand you a receipt in my
name for the amount of cheques you may give him, and
to lodge a portion of it where I told him, and the rest to
buy Consols; and .I suppose he will expect payment for
his no-trouble. Every fellow, particularly these gentle-
manlike fellows, they have a pluck at you when they can.
If he is at that, give him at the rate of a hundred a-year,
or a hundred and fifty if you think he won't do for less;
though 100/. ought to be a good deal to Lake; and tell
him I have a promise of the adjutancy of the county mi-
litia, if he likes that; and I am sure of a seat in Parliament
either for the county or for Dollington, as you know, and
can do better for him that; and I rely on you, one way
or another, to make him undertake it. And now for my-
self: I think my vexation is very near ended. I have
not fired a gun yet, and they little think what a raking
broadside I'll give them. Any of the county people you
meet, tell them I'm making a little excursion on the Con-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 243
tinent; and if they go to particularise, yoii may say the
places I have been at. Don't let any one know more. I
wish there was any way of stopping that old she " — (it
looked like dragon or devil — but was traced over with a
cloud of flourishes. and only " Lady Chelford's mouth"
was left untouched.) "Don't expect to hear from me so
long a yarn for some time again; and don't write. I don't
stay long anywhere, and don't carry my own name — and
never ask for letters at the post. I've a good glass, and,
can see pretty far, and make a fair guess enough what's
going on aboard the enemy.
"I remain always, Dear Larkin, Ever yours, truly,
"MARK WYLDER."
"He hardly trusts Lake more than he does me, I pre-
sume," murmured Mr. Larkin, elevating his bald head
with an offended and supercilious air.
"No. I take leave to think he certainly does not. Lake
has got private directions about the disposition of a por-
tion of the money. Of course, if there are persons to be
dealt with who are not pleasantly approachable by respect-
able professional people — in fact it would not suit me.
It is really rather a compliment, and relieves me of the
unpleasant necessity of saying — no."
Yet Mr. Larkin was very sore, and curious, and in a
measure, hated both Lake and Wylder for their secret
confidences, and was more than ever resolved to get at the
heart of Mark's mystery.


CHAPTER XLI.
A PARAGRAPH IN THE COUNTY PAPER.
THE nature of his injury considered, Captain Lake re-
covered with wonderful regularity and rapidity. In four
weeks he was out rather pale and languid, but still able to
walk without difficulty, leaning on a stick, for ten or fif-
teen minutes at a time. In another fortnight he had made
another great advance, had thrown away his crutch-handled
stick, and recovered flesh and vigor. In a fortnight more
he had grown quite like himself again; and in a very few
weeks more, I read in the same county paper, the follow-
ing to me for a time incredible, and very nearly to this
day amazing, announcement: —
"MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.
"The auspicious event so interesting to our county,
which we have this day to announce, has been attended
with as little publicity as possible. The contempla-
ted union between Captain Stanley Lake, late of the
Guards, sole surviving son of the late General Williams
Stanley, Stanley Lake, of Plasrhwyn, and the beautiful and
accomplished Miss Brandon, of Brandon Hall, in this
county, was celebrated in the ancestral chapel of Brandon,
in the immediate vicinity of the town of Gylingden, on
yesterday. Although the marriage was understood to be
strictly private — none but the immediate relations of the
bride and bridegroom being present — the bells of Gyling-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 245
den rang out toerry peals throughout the day, and the
town was tastefully decorated with flags, and brilliantly
illuminated at night."
There was some more which I need not copy, being very
like what we usually see on such occasions.
I read this piece of intelligence half a dozen times over
during breakfast. "How that beautiful girl has thrown
herself away!" I thought. "Surely the Chelfords, who
have an influence there, ought to have exerted it to pre-
vent her doing any thing so mad.
"At the club, I saw it in the " Morning Post,; " and
an hour after, old Job Gabloss, that prosy Argus who
knows every thing, recounted the details with patient pre-
cision, and in legal phrase, "put in" letters from two or
three country houses proving his statement.
So there was no doubting it longer; and Captain Stan-
ley Lake, late of her Majesty's — Regiment of Guards,
idler, scamp, coxcomb, and the beautiful Dorcas Brandon,
heiress of Brandon, were man and wife.
The posture of affairs in the small world of Gylingden,
except in the matter of the alliance just referred-to, was
not much changed.
Since the voluminous despatch from Marseilles, promis-
ing his return so soon, not a line had been received from
Mark Wylder. In the meantime, Captain Lake accepted
the trust. Larkin at times thought there was a constant
and secret correspondence going on between him and
Mark Wylder, and that he was his agent in adjusting
some complicated and villanous piece of'diplomacy by
means of the fund — secret-service money — which Mark
had placed at his disposal.
Sometimes his suspicions took a different turn, and he
thought that Lake might be one of those " persecutors"
of whom Mark spoke with such mysterious hatred; and


246 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
that the topic of their correspondence was, perhaps some
compromise, the subject or the terms of which would not
bear the light.
Lake certainly made two visits to London, one of them
of a week's duration. The attorney being a sharp, long-
headed fellow, who knew very well what buisnesa was,
knew perfectly well, too, that two or three short letters
might have settled any legitimate business which his gal-
lant friend had in the capital.
But Lake was now married, and under the incantation
whistled over him by the toothless Archdeacon of Mun-
dlebury, had sprung up into a county magnate, and was
worth cultivating, and to be treated tenderly.
Being very gentlemanlike in externals, with a certain
grace amounting very nearly to elegance, and having ap-
plied himself diligently to please the county people, that
proud fraternity, remembering his father's estates, con-
doned his poverty, and took Captain Lake by the hand,
and lifted him into their superb, Jhough not very enter-
taining order.
There were solemn festivities at Brandon, and festive
solemnities at the principal county houses in return.
Though not much of a sportsman, Lake lent himself
handsomely to all the sporting proceedings of the county,
and subscribed in a way worthy of the old renown of
Brandon Hall to all sorts of charities and galas. So he
was getting on very pleasantly with his new neighbors,
and was likely to stand very fairly in that dull, but not
unfriendly society.
About three weeks after this great county marriage,
there arrived, this time from Frankfort, a sharp letter, ad-
dressed to Jos Larkin, Esq. It said: —'
"MY DEAR SIR, —I think I have reason to complain.


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 247
I have just seen by accident the announcement of the
marriage at Brandon. I think as my friend, and a friend
to the Brandon family, you ought to have done something
to delay, if you could not stop it. Any way. it was your
duty to have printed some notice that the thing was
thought of. If you had put it, .like a bit of news, in
"Galignani," I would have seen it, and known what to
do. Well, that ship's blew up. But I won't let all go.
The cur will begin to try for the county or for Dolling-
ton. You must quietly stop that, mind; and if he per-
sists. just you put an advertisement in " Galignani," say-
ing, Mr. Smith will take notice, that the other-party is
desirous to purchase and becoming very pressing. Just
you hoist that signal, and somebody will bear down, and
blaze into him at all hazards — you'll see how. Things
have gone quite smooth with me since; but it won't be
long till I run up my flag again and take the command.
Be perfectly civil with Stanley Lake till I come on board
— that is indispensable; and keep this letter as close from
every eye as sealed orders. You may want a trifle to
baulk S. L.'s electioneering, and there's an order on Lake
for 200/. Don't trifle about the county and borough.
He must have no footing in either till I return.
"Yours, dear Larkin.
"Very truly
"(but look after my business better),
"M. WYLDEB."
The order on Lake, a little note, was enclosed : —
"DEAR LAKE, — I wish you joy, and all the good
wishes going, as I could not make the prize myself.


248 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Be so good to hand my lawyer, Mr. Jos Larkin, of
the Lodge Gylingden, 200/. sterling, on my account.
"Yours, dear Lake,
"Very faithfully,
200£ "M. WILDER.
"23rd Feb. &c. &c."
When Jos Larkin presented this little order, it was in
the handsome square room in which Captain Lake trans-
acted business — a lofty apartment, wainscotted in carved
oak, and with a great stone mantelpiece, with the Wylder
arms, projecting in bold relief, in the centre, and a florid
scroll with J^jfiJUxOjftl standing forth as sharp as the
day it was chiselled, nearly three hundred years before.
There was some other business — Brandon business —
to be talked over first; and that exhausted, Mr. Larkin
sat, as usual, with one long thigh crossed upon the other —
his arm thrown over the back of his chair, and his tall,
bald head a little back, and his small, mild eyes twinkling
through their pink lids on the enigmatical Captain.
"I had a line from Mr. Mark Wylder yesterday
afternoon, as usual without any address but the post-
mark;" and good Mr. Larkin laughed a mild, little pa-
tient laugh, and lifted his open hand, and shook his head.
"It really is growing too absurd — a mere order upon
you to hand me 200/. How I'm to dispose of it, I have
not the faintest notion."
And he laughed again; at the same time he gracefully
poked the little note, between two fingers, to Captain
Lake, who glanced full on him, for a second, as he took
it.
"And how is Mark," enquired Lake, with his odd, sly
smile, as he scrawled a little endorsement on the order.
"Does he say anything?"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 249
"No; absolutely nothing —he's a very strange cli-
ent!" said Larkin, laughing again. "There can be no
objection, of course, to your reading it; and he thinks —
he thinks — he'll be here soon again — oh, here it is."
Mr. Larkin had been fumbling, first in his deep waist-
coat, and then in his breast-pocket, as if for the letter,
which was locked fast into the iron safe, with Chubb's
patent lock, in his office at the Lodge. But it would
not have done to have kept a secret from Captain Lake,
of Brandon; and therefore his not seeing the note was a
mere accident.
"Oh! no — stupid ! — that's Mullett and Hock's. I
have not got it with me; but it does not signify, for
there's nothing in it. I hope I shall soon be favored
with his directions as to what to do with the money.
"He's an odd fellow; and I don't know how he feels
towards me [ but on my part there is no feeling, I do as-
sure you, but the natural desire to live on the friendly
terms which our ties of family and our position in the
county " —
Stanley Lake was writing the cheque for 200J. mean-
while, and handed it to Larkin; and as that gentleman
penned a receipt, the Captain continued — his eyes low-
ered to the little vellum-bound book in which he was now
making an entry; —
"You have handed me a large sum, Mr. Larkin —
3,276/. lls. 4rf. I undertook this, you know, on the
understanding that it was not to go on very long; and I
find my own business pretty nearly ns much as I can
manage. Is Wylder at all definite as to when we may ex-
pect his return?"
"Oh, dear no — quite as usual — he expects to be here
soon; but that is all. I so wish I had brought his note
with me; but I'm positive that is all."
So, this little matter settled, the lawyer took his leave


CHAPTER XLII.
AN EVIL EYE LOOKS ON THE VICAB.
THE Vicar's troubles grew and gathered, as such
troubles will; and the attorney gave him his adrice;
and the business of the Rev. William Wylder gradually
came to occupy a good deal of his time. Here was a new
reason for wishing to know really how Mark Wylder
stood. William had undoubtedly the reversion of the
estate; but the attorney suspected sometimes—just from
a faint phrase which had once escaped Stanley Lake — as
the likeliest solution, that Mark Wylder had made a left-
handed marriage somehow and somewhere, and that a sub-
terranean wife and family would emerge at an unlucky
moment, and squat upon that remainder, and defy the
world to disturb them. This gave to his plans and deal-
ings in relation to the Vicar a degree of irresolution for-
eign to his character, which was grim-and decided enough
when his data were clear, and his object in sight.
William Wylder, meanwhile, was troubled, and his
mind clouded by more sorrows than one.
Poor William Wylder had those special troubles which
haunt nervous temperaments and speculative minds, when
under the solemn influence of religion. What the great
Luther called, without describing them, his "tribulations"
— those dreadful doubts and apathies which at times men-
ace and darken the radiant fabric of faith, and fill the
soul with nameless horrors. The worst of these is, that
unlike other troubles, they are not always safely to bo


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 251
communicated to those who love us best. These terrors
and dubitations are infections. Other spiritual troubles,
too, there are; and I suppose our good Vicar was not ex-
empt from them any more than other Christians.
The Vicar, with his little boy, Fairy, by the hand, used
twice, at least, in the week to make, sometimes an hour's,
sometimes only half an hour's, visit at Redman's Farm.
Poor Rachel Lake made old Tamar sit at her worsteds in
the window of the little drawing-room while these conver-
sations proceeded. The young lady was so intelligent that
"William Wylder was obliged to exert himself in contro-
versy with her eloquent despair; and this combat with the
doubts and terrors of a mind of much more than ordinary
vigor and resource, though altogether feminine, compell-
ed him to bestir himself, and so, for the time, found him
entire occupation; and thus memory and forecast, and sus-
pense, superseded, for the moment, by absorbing mental
action.
Rachel's position had not been altered by her brother's
marriage. Dorcas had urged her earnestly to give up
Redman's Farm, and take up her abode permanently at
Brandon. This kindness, however, she declined. She
was grateful, but no, nothing could move her. The truth
was, she recoiled from it with a species of horror.
The marriage had been, after all, as great a surprise to
Rachel as to any of the Gylingden gossips. Dorcas,
knowing how Richel thought upon it, had grown reserved
and impenetrable upon the subject; indeed, at one time, I
think, she had half made up her mind to fight the old
battle over again and resolutely exorcise this fatal passion.
She had certainly mystified Rachel, perhaps was mystify-
ing herself.
One evening Stanley Lake stood at Rachel's door.
"I was just thinking, dear Radie," he said in his sweet


252 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
low tones, which to her ear always bore a suspicion of
mockery in them, " how pretty you contrive to make this
bright little garden at all times of the year — you have
such lots of those evergreens, and ivy, and those odd flow-
ers."
"They call them immortelles in France," said Rachel,
in a cold strange tone, "and make chaplets of them to lay
upon the coffin-lids and the graves."
"Ah, yes, to be sure, I have seen them there and in
Pere la Chaise — so they do; they have them in all the
cemeteries — I forgot that. How cheerful; how very
sensible. Don't you think it would be a good plan to stick
up a death's-head and cross-bones here and there, and to
split up old coffin-lids for your setting-sticks, and get old
Mowlders, the sexton, to bury your roots, and cover them
in with a " dust to dust," and so forth, and plant a yew tree
in the middle, and stick those bits of painted board, that look
so woefully like gravestones, all round it, and then let old
Tamar prowl about for a ghost. I assure you, Radie, I
think you, all to nothing, the perversest fool I ever en-
countered or heard of in the course of my life."
"Well, Stanley, suppose you do, I'll not dispute it.
Perhaps you are right," said Rachel, still standing at the
door of her little porch.
"Perhaps," he repeated with a sneer; "> I venture to
say, most positively, I can't conceive any sane reason for
your refusing Dorcas's entreaty to live with us at Brandon,
and leave this triste, and unwholesome, and everyway
objectionable place."
"She was very kind, but I can't do it."
"Yes, you can't do it, simply because it would be pre-
cisely the most sensible, prudent, and comfortable arrange-
ment you could possibly make; you won't do it — but
you can and will practise all the airs and fooleries of a


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 253
bad melodrama. You have succeeded already in filling
Dorcas's mind with surmise and speculation, and do you
think the Gylingden people are either hlind or dumb?
You are taking, I've told you again and again, the very
way to excite attention and gossip. What good can it
possibly do you? You'll no't believe until it happens, and
when it does. you'd give your eyes you could undo it. It
is so like you."
"I have said how very kind I thought it of Dorcas to
propose it. I can't explain to her all my reasons for de-
clining; and to you I need not. But I cannot overcome
my repugnance — and I won't try."
"I wonder," said Stanley, with a sly look of enquiry,
"that you who read the Bible — and a very good book it
is, no doubt — and believe in all sorts of things "—
"That will do, Stanley. I'm not so weak as you sup-
pose."
"You know, Radio, I'm a Sadducee, and that sort of
thing does not trouble me the least in the world. It is a
little cold here. May we go into the drawing-room?
You can't think how I hate this — house. We are al-
ways unpleasant in it."
This auspicious remark he made taking off his hat, and
placing it and his cane on her work-table.
But this was not a tempestuous conference by any means.
I don't know precisely what they talked about, I think
it was probably the pros and cons of that migration to
Brandon, against which Rachel had pronounced so firmly.
"I can't do it, Stanley. My motives are unintelligible
to you, I know, and you think me obstinate and stupid;
but, be I what I may, my objections are insurmountable.
And does it not strike you that my staying here, on the
contrary, would — would tend to prevent the kind of
conversation you speak of?"


254 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
"Not the least, dear Radie — that is, I mean, it could
have no possible effect, unless the circumstances were first
supposed, and then it could be of no appreciable use. And
your way of life and your looks — for both are changed
— are likely, in a little prating village, where every
human being is watched and discussed incessantly, to excite
conjecture; that is all, and that is every thing."
It had grown dark while Stanley sat in the little
drawing-room, and Rachel stood on her doorstep, and saw
his figure glide away slowly into the thin mist and shadow,
and turn upward to return to Brandon, by that narrow
ravine where they had held rendezvous with Mark Wylder,
on that ill-omened night when trouble began for all.
When Stanley took his leave after one of these visits —
stolen visits, somehow, they always seemed to her — the
solitary mistress of Redman's Farm invariably experienced
the nervous reaction which follows the artificial calm of sup-
pressed excitement. Something of panic or horror, reliev-
ed sometimes by a gush of tears — sometimes more slow-
ly and painfully subsiding without that hysterical escape.
She went in and shut the door, and called Tamar: But
Tamar was out of the way. She hated that little drawing-
room in her present mood — its associations were odious
and even ghastly; so she sat herself down by the kitchen
fire, and placed her pretty feet — cold now — upon the
high steel fender, and extended her cold hands towards the
embers, leaning back in her rude chair.


CHAPTER XLIII.
IN WHICH OLD TAMAR LIFTS UP HER VOICE IN PRO-
PHECY.
CERTAINLY Stanley Lake was right about Redman's
Dell. Once the sun had gone down behind the distant
hills, it was the darkest, the most silent and the most sol-
itary of nooks.
It was not, indeed, quite dark yet. The upper sky had
still a faint grey twilight halo, and the stars looked wan
and faint. But the narrow walk that turned from Red-
man's Dell was always dark in Stanley's memory; and
Sadducees are no more proof than other men against the
resurrections of memory and the penalties of association
and of fear.
Captain Lake had many things to think of. Some
pleasant enough as he measured pleasure, others trouble-
some. But as he mounted the stone steps that conducted
the passenger up the steep acclivity to the upper level of
the dark and narrow walk he was pursuing, one black
sorrow met him and blotted out all the rest.
Captain Lake knew very well and gracefully practised
the art of not seeing inconvenient acquaintances in the
street. But here in this narrow way there met him full
a hated shadow whom he would fain have " cut," by look-
ing to right or left, or up or down, but which was not to
be evaded — would not only have his salutation but his
arm, and walked—a horror of great darkness, by his
side — through this solitude.
The young Captain stood for a moment still on reaching


256 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
the upper platform. A tiny brook that makes its way
among briars and shingle to the more considerable mill-
stream of Redman's Dell, sent up a hoarse babbling from
the darkness beneath. Why exactly he halted there he
could not have said. He glanced over his shoulder down
the steps he had just scaled. Had there been light-hia
pale face would have shown just then a malign anxiety,
such as the face of an ill-conditioned man might wear, who
apprehends danger of treading on a snake.
He walked on, however, without quickening his pace,
waving very slightly from side to side his ebony walking-
cane — thin as a pencil — as if it were a wand to* beckon
away the unseen things that haunt the darkness; and now
he came upon the wider plateau, from which, the close
copse receding, admitted something more of the light, faint
as it was, that lingered in the heavens.
A tall grey stone stands in the centre of this space.
There had once been.a boundary and a stile there. Stanley
knew it very well, and was not startled as the attorney
was the other night when he saw it. As he approached
this, some one said close in his ear,
"I beg your pardon, Master Stanley."
He cowered down with a spring, as I can fancy a man
ducking under a round-shot, and glanced speechlessly, and
still in his attitude of recoil, upon the speaker.
"It's only me, Master Stanley — your poor old Tamar.
Don't be afraid, dear."
"I'm not afraid — woman. Tamar to be sure — why,
of course, I know you; but what the devil brings you
here?" he said.
Tamar was dressed just as she used to be when sitting
in the open air at her knitting, except that over her
shoulders she had a thin grey shawl. On her head was
the same close linen nightcap, borderless and skull-like,


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 257
and she laid her shrivelled, freckled hand upon his arm,
and looking with an earnest and fearful gaze in his face
she said —
"It has been on my mind this many a day to speak to
you, Master Stanley; but whenever I meant to summat
came over me, and I couldn't."
"Well, well, well," said Lake, uneasily; "I mean to
call to-morrow, or next day, or some day soon, at Red-
man's Farm. I'll hear it then; this is no place, you
know, Tamar, to talk in; besides I'm pressed for time,
and can't stay now to listen."
"Master Stanley, for the love of Heaven — you know
what I'm going to speak of; my old bones have carried
me here — 'tis years since I walked so far. I'd walk till
I dropped to^reach you — but I'd say what's on my mind,
'tis like a message from Heaven — and I must speak —
aye, dear, I must."
"But I say I can't stay. Who made you a prophet?
You used not to be a fool. Tamar; when I tell you I can't,
that's enough." ,
Tamar did not move her fingers from the sleeve of his
coat, on which they rested, and that thin pressure mys-
teriously detained him.
"See, Master Stanley, if I don't say it to you, I must
to another," she said.
"You mean to threaten me, woman," said he with a
pale, malevolent look.
"I'm threatening nothing but the wrath of God, who
hears us."
"Unless you mean to do me an injury, Tamar, I don't
know what else you mean," he answered, in a changed
tone.
"Old Tamar will soon be in her coffin, and this night
far in the past, like many another, and 'twill be every-


258 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
thing to you, one day, for weal or woe, to hearken to her
words now, Master Stanley."
"Why, Tamar, haven't I told you I'm ready to listen
to you. I'll go and see you — upon my honor I will —
to-morrow, or next day, at the Dell; what's the good of
stopping me here?"
"Because, Master Stanley, something told me 'tis the
best place; we're quiet, and you're more like to weigh my
words here — and you'll be alone for a while after you
leave me, and can ponder my advice as you walk home by
the path."
"Well, whatever it is, I suppose it won't take very long
to say — let us walk on to the stone there, and then I'll
stop and hear it — but you must not keep me all night,'
he said, very peevishly.
It was only twenty steps further on, and the woods re-
ceded round it, so as to leave an irregular amphitheatre of
some sixty yards across; and Captain Lake, glancing
from the corners of his eyes, this way and that, without
raising or turning his face, stopped listlessly al the time-
worn white stone, and turning to the old crone, who was
by his side, he said,
"Well, then, you have your way; but speak low, please,
if you have anything unpleasant to say."
Tamar laid her hand upon his arm again; and the old
woman's face afforded Stanley Lake no clue to the coming
theme. Its expression was quite as usual — not actually
discontent or peevishness, but crimped and puckered all
over with unchanging lines of anxiety and suffering. Nei-
ther was there any flurry in her manner — her bony arm
and discolored hand, once her fingers lay upon his sleeve,_
did not move — only she looked very earnestly in his face
as she spoke.
"You'll not be angry, Master Stanley, dear? though


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 259
if you be, I can't help it, for I must speak. I've heard
it all — I heard you and Miss Radio speak on the night
you first came to see her after your sickness; and I heard
you speak again, by my room door, only a week before your
marriage, when you thought I was asleep. So Fve heard
it all — and though I mayn't understand all the ins and
and outs on't, I know it well in the main. Oh, Master
Stanley, Master Stanley! How can you go on with
it?"
"Come, Tamar, what do you want of me?" What
do you mean? What the d — is it all about?"
"Oh! well you know, Master Stanley, what it's about."
"Well, there is something unpleasant, and I suppose you
have heard a smattering of it in your muddled way; but
it is quite plain you don't in the least understand it, when
you fancy I can do anything to serve any one in the small-
est degree connected with that disagreeable business —or
that I am personally in the least to blame in it; and I
can't conceive what business you had listening at the key-
hole to your mistress and me, nor why I am wasting my
time talking to an old woman about my affairs, which she
can neither understand nor take part in."
"Master Stanley, it won't do. I heard it — I could
not help hearing. I little thought you had any such matter
to speak — and you spoke so sudden like, I could not help
it. You were angry, and raised your voice. What could
old Tamar do? I heard it all before I knew where I
was."
"I really think, Tamar, you've taken leave of your
wits — you are quite in the clouds. Come, Tamar, tell
me, once for all — only drop your voice a little, if you
please—what the plague has got into your old head. Come,
I say, what is it?"
He stooped and leaned his ear to Tamar; and when


260 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
she had done, he laughed. The laugh, though low, sound-
ed wild and hollow in that dark solitude.
"Really, dear Tamar, you must excuse my laughing.
You dear old witch, how the plague could you take any
such frightful nonsense into your head? I do assure you,
upon my honor, I never heard of so ridiculous a blunder.
Only that I know you are really fond of us, I should nev-
er speak to you again. I forgive you. But listen no
more to other people's conversation. I could tell you how
it really stands now, only I have not time; but you'll
take my word of honor for it, you have made the most
absurd mistake that ever an old fool tumbled into. No, Ta-
mar, I can t fitay any longer now, but I'll tell you the
whole truth when next I go to Redman's Farm. In the
meantime, you must not plague poor Miss Radio with
your nonsense. She has too much already to trouble her,
though of quite another sort. Good night, foolish old
Tamar."
"Oh, Master Stanley, it will take a deal to shake my
mind; and if it be so, as I say, what's to be done next —
what's to be done — oh, what is to be done?"
"I say good night, old Tamar; and hold your tongue,
do you see."
"Oh, Master Stanley, Master Stanley; my poor child
— my child that I nursed ! — any thing would be better
than this. Sooner or later judgment will overtake you,
so sure as you persist in it. i heard ^vhat Miss Radie
said; and is not it true — is not it cruel — is not it fright-
ful to go on?"
"You don't seem to be aware, my good Tamar, that
you have been talking slander all this while, and might
be sent to gaol for it. There, I'm not angry — only you're
a fool. Good night."
He shook her hand, and jerked it from him with sup-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 261
pressed fury, passing on with a quickened pace. As he
glided through the dark, toward splendid old Brandon,
he ground his teeth and uttered two or three sentences
which no respectable publisher would like to print.
CHAPTER XLIV.
DEEP AND SHALLOW.
LAWYER LARKIN'S mind was working more diligently
than any one suspected upon this puzzle of Mark Wylder.
The investigation was a sort of scientific recreation to
him, and something more. His sure instinct told him it
was a secret well worth mastering.
He had a growing belief that Lake, and perhaps he only
— except Wylder himself— knew the meaning of all this
mysterious marching and counter-marching. Of course 7
all sorts of theories were floating in his mind; but there
was none that would quite fit all the circumstances. The
attorney, had he asked himself the question, what was his
object in these inquisitions, would have answered—lam
doing what few other men would. I am, Heaven knows,
giving to this affair of my absent client's, gratuitously, as
much thought and vigilance as ever I did to any case in
which I was duly remunerated. This is self-sacrificing
and noble, and just the conscientious conduct I should ex-
pect from myself."
But there was also this consideration, which you failed
to define.
"Yes; my respected client, Mr. Mark Wylder, is suf-
fering under some acute pressure, applied perhaps by my


262 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
friend, Captaia Lake. Why should not I share in the
profit — if such there be — by getting my hand too upon
the instrument of compression? It is worth trying. Let
us try."
The Reverend William Wylder was often at the Lodge
DOW. Larkin had struck out a masterly plan. The Vi-
car's reversion, a very chimerical contingency, he would
by no means consent to sell. His little man — little
Fairy — oh! no, he could not. The attorney only touched
On this, remarking in a friendly way —
"But then you know, it is so mere a shadow."
This, indeed, poor William knew very well. But
though he spoke quite meekly, the attorney looked rather
black, and his converse grew somewhat dry and short.
This sinister change was sudden, and immediately fol-
lowed the suggestion about the reversion; and the poor
Vicar was a little puzzled, and began to consider whether
he had said anything gauche or offensive — " it would be
so very painful to appear ungrateful."
The attorney had the statement of title in one hand,
and leaning back in his chair, read it demurely in silence,
with the other tapping the seal end of his gold pencil-case
between his lips.
"Yes," said Mr. Larkin, mildly, "it is so very sha-
dowy — and that feeling, too, in the way. I suppose we
had -better, perhaps, put it aside, and maybe something
else may turn up." And the attorney rose grandly to
replace the statement of title in its tin box, intimating
thereby that the audience was ended.
But the poor Vicar was in rather urgent circumstances
just then, and his troubles had closed in recently with a
noiseless, but tremendous contraction, like that iron shroud
in Mr. Mudford's fine tale; and to have gone away into
outer darkness, with no project on the stocks, and the at-


264 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
The attorney spoke in the same dry and reserved way,
and there was a shadow on his long face.
"I am afraid I have, quite unintentionally, offended
you, Mr. Larkin — perhaps in my ignorance of business;
and I feel that I should be quite ruined if I were to for-
feit your good offices; and, pray tell me, if I have said
any thing I ought not."
"Oh, no — nothing I assure you," replied Mr. Larkin,
with a lofty and gentle dryness. "Only, I think, I
have, perhaps, a little mistaken the relation in which I
stood, and fancied, wrongly, it was in the light somewhat
of a friend as well as of a professional adviser; and
I thought, perhaps, I had rather more of your confidence
than I had any right to, and did not at first sec the necessity
of calling in Lord Chelford, whose experience of business
is necessarily very limited, to direct you. You remem-
ber, my dear Mr. Wylder, that I did not at all invite these
relations; and I don't think you will charge me with
want of zeal in your business."
"Oh! my dear Mr. Larkin, my dear sir, you have
been my preserver, my benefactor — in fact, under Heav-
en, very nearly my last and only hope."
"Well, I had hoped I was not remiss or wanting in dili-
gence."
And Mr. Larkin took his seat in his most gentleman-
like fashion, crossing his long legs, and throwing his tall
head back, raising his eyebrows, and letting his mouth
languidly drop a little open.
"My idea was, that Lord Chelford would see more
clearly what was best for little Fairy. I am so very
slow and so silly about business, and you so much my
friend — I have found you so — that you might think only
of me."
"I should, of course, consider the little boy," said Mr.


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
The Vicar read it with a vague comprehension, and in
his cold fingers shook the hand of his fellow-sufferer.
Less than fifty pounds would not do! Oh, where was he
to turn? It was quite hopeless, and poor Larkin pressed
too!
Now, there was this consolation in "poor Larkin's"
case, that although he was quite run aground and a de-
faulter in the Dollington Bank to the extent of 11. 12s.
Ad. yet in that similar institution, which flourished at
Naunton, only nine miles away, there stood to his name
the satisfactory credit of 5G4£. lls. Id. One advantage
which the good attorney derived from his double account
with the rival institutions was, that whenever convenient
he could throw one of these certificates of destitution and
impotence sadly under the eyes of a client in want of
money, like poor Will AVylder.
The attorney had no pleasure in doing people ill turns.
But he had come to hear the distresses of his clients as
tranquilly as doctors do the pangs of their patients. As
he stood meditating near his window, he saw the poor Vi-
car, with slow limbs and downcast countenance, walk un-
der his laburnums and laurustinuses towards his little
gate, and suddenly stop and turn round, and make about
a dozen quick steps, like a man who has found a bright
idea, towards the house, and then come to a thoughtful halt,
and so turn and recommence his slow march of despair
homeward.
At five o'clock — it was dark now — there was a tread
on the door-steps, and a double tattoo at the tiny knocker.
It was the "lawyer."
Mr. Larkin entered the Vicar's study, where he was
supposed to be busy about his sermon.
'" My dear sir; thinking about you —and I have just
heard from an old humble friend, who wants high interest,


WYLDER'S HJJfD. 267
and of course is content to take security somewhat per-
sonal in its nature. I have written already. He's in the
hands of Burlington, Smith, and Company. I have
got exactly 55/. since I saw you, which makes me all
right at Dollington; and here's my cheque for 50Z. which
you can send — or perhaps / had better send by this
night's post — to those Cambridge people. It settles that;
and you give me a line on this stamp, acknowledging the
50/. on account of money to be raised on your reversion.
So that's off your mind, my dear sir."
"Oh, Mr. Larkin — my — my — you don't know, sir,
what you have done for me — the agony—oh, thank
God! what a friend is raised up."
And he clasped and wrung the long hands of the attor-
ney, and I really think there was a little moisture in that
gentleman's pink eyes for a moment or two.
When he was gone the Vicar returned from the door-
step, radiant — not to the study but to the parlor.
"Oh, Willie, darling, you look so happy — you were
uneasy this evening," said his little ugly wife, with a
beautiful smile, jumping up and clasping him.
"Yes, darling, I was — very uneasy; but thank God,
it is over."
And they cried and smiled together in that delightful
embrace, while all the time little Fairy, with a paper cap
on his head, was telling them half-a-dozen things togeth-
er, and pulling Wapsie, as he called his father, by the
skirts.
CHAPTER XLV.
DEBATE AND INTERRUPTION.
RACHEL beheld the things which were coming to pass
like an awful dream. She had begun to think, and not


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
without evidence, that Dorcas, for some cause or caprice,
luul ceased to think of Stanley as she once did. And the
announcement, without preparation or apparent courtship,
that her brother had actually won this great and beautiful
heiress, and that, just emerged from the shades of death,
he, a half-ruined scapegrace, was about to take his place
among the magnates of the county, towered before her
like an incredible and disastrous illusion of magic.
{Stanley's uneasiness lest Rachel's conduct should com-
promise them increased. He grew more nervous about
his relation between him and Mark Wylder, in proportion
as the world grew more splendid and prosperous for him.
Where is the woman who will patiently acquiesce in the
reserve of her husband who shares his confidence with
another? How often had Stanley Lake sworn to her there
was no secret; that he knew nothing of Mark Wylder be-
yond the charge of his money, and making a small payment
to an old Mrs. Button, in London, by his direction, and
that beyond this, he was as absolutely in the dark as she
orChelford?
What, then, did Rachel mean by all that* escaped her,
when he was in danger?
"How the — could he tell? He really believed she
was a little — ever so little — crazed. He supposed she,
like Dorcas, fancied he knew everything about Wylder.
She was constantly hinting something of the kind; and
begging of him to make a disclosure of what? It was
enough to drive one mad, and would make a capital
farce. Rachel has a ridiculous way of talking like an
oracle, and treating as settled fact every absurdity she
fancies. She is very charming and clever, of course, so
long as she speaks of the kind of thing she understands.
But when she tries to talk of serious business — poor
Radie ! — she certainly does talk nonsense! It is the
most tiresome thing you can conceive."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 269
"But you have not said, Stanley, that she docs not
suspect the truth."
"Of course, I say it; I have said it. I swear it, if
you like. Upon my honor and soul, I know no more of
his movements, plans, or motives, than you do. If you
reflect you must see it. We were never good friends.
Mark and I. It was no fault of mine, but I never liked
him; and he, consequently, I suppose, never liked me. I
was the last man on earth he would have consulted with.
Even Larkin, his own lawyer, is in the dark. Rachel
knows all this. I have told her fifty times over, and she
seems to give way at the moment. Indeed the thing is
too plain to be resisted. But poor Radio can't reason;
and by the time I see her next, her old fancy possesses
her. I can't help it; because with more reluctance than
I can tell, I at length consent, at Larkin s entreaty, I may
say, to bank and fund his money."
But Dorcas' mind retained its first impression. Some-
times his plausibilities disturbed it for a time; but there
it remained like the picture of a camera obscura, into
which a momentary light has been admitted, unseen for a
second, but the images return with the darkness, and
group themselves in their old colors and places again.
Whatever it was Rachel probably knew it. There was a
painful confidence between them; and there was growing
in Dorcas' mind a feeling toward Rachel which her pride
forbade her to define.
She did not like Stanley's stealthy visits to Redman's
Farm; she did not like his moods or looks after those
visits, of which he thought she knew nothing. She did
not know whether to be pleased or sorry that Rachel
had refused to reside at Brandon; neither did she
like the stern gloom that overcast Rachel's countenance
when Stanley was in the room, nor those occasional walks


270 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
together, up and down the short yew walk, in which Lake
looked so cold and angry, and Rachel so earnest. What
was this secret? How dared her husband mask from her
what he confided to another? How dared Rachel confer
with him — influence him, perhaps, under her very eye,
walking before the windows of Brandon — that Brandon
which was hers, and to which she had taken Stanley,
passing her gate a poor and tired wayfarer of the world,
and made him — what? Oh, mad caprice! Oh, fit
retribution!
A wild voice was talking this way, to-and-fro, and up
and down, in the chambers of memory. But she would
not let it speak from her proud lips. She smiled, and to
outward seeming, was the same; but Rachel felt that the
fashion of her countenance towards her was changed.
Since her marriage she had not hinted to Rachel the
subject of their old conversation: burning beneath her
feeling about it was now a deep-rooted anger and jealousy.
Still she was Stanley's sister, and to be treated accordingly.
The whole household greeted her with proper respect, and
Dorcas met her graciously, and with all the externals of
kindness. The change was so little, that I do not think
any but she and Rachel saw it; and yet it was immense.
There was a dark room, a sort of ante-room, to the
library, with only two tall and narrow windows, and hung
with old Butch tapestries, representing the battles and
sieges of men in periwigs, pikemen, dragoons in buff coats,
and musketeers with matchlocks — all the grim faces of
soldiers, generals. drummers, grown pale and dusky by
time, like armies of ghosts.
Rachel had come one morning to see Dorcas, and,
awaiting her appearance, sat down in this room. The
door of the library opened, and she was a little surprised
to see Stanley enter.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 271
"Why, Stanley, they told me you were gone to Naun-
ton."
"Oh! did they? Well, you see, I'm here, Radio."
Somehow he was not very well pleased to see her.
"I think you'll find Dorcas in the drawing-room, or
else in the conservatory," he added.
"I am glad, Stanley, I happened to meet you. Some-
thing must be done in the matter I spoke of immediately.
Have you considered it?"
"Most carefully," said Stanley, quietly
"But you have done nothing."
"It is not a thing to be done in a moment."
"You can, if you please, do a great deal in a mo-
ment."
"Certainly; but I may repent it afterwards."
"Stanley, you may regret postponing it, much more."
"You have no idea, Rachel, how very tiresome you've
grown."
"Yes, Stanley, I can quite understand it. It would
have been better for you, perhaps for myself, I had died
long ago."
"Well, that is another thing; but in the meantime, I
assure you, Rachel, you are disposed to be very imperti-
nent."
"Very impertinent; yes, indeed, Stanley, and so I
shall continue to be until" —
"Pray how does it concern you? I say it is no busi-
ness on earth of yours."
Stanley Lake was growing angry.
"Yes, Stanley, it does concern me."
"That is false."
"True, true, sir. Oh, Stanley, it is a load upon my
conscience — a mountain — a mountain between me and
my hopes. I can't endure the misery to which you would


272 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
consign me you shall do it — immediately, too "(she
stamped wildly as she said it), "and if you hesitate,
Stanley, I shall be compelled to speak, though the thought
of it makes me almost mad with terror."
'' What is he to do, Rachel?" said Dorcas, standing
near the door.
It was a very awkward pause. The splendid young,
bride was the only person on the stage who looked very
much as usual. Stanley turned his pale glare of fury
from Rachel to Dorcas; and Dorcas said again.
"What is it, Rachel, darling?"
Rachel, with a bright blush on her cheeks, stepped
quickly up to her, put her arms about her neck and
kissed her, and over her shoulder she cried to her broth-
er —
"Tell her, Stanley."
And so she quickly left the room, and was gone.
"Well, Dorkie, love, what's the matter?" said Stan-
ley, sharply, at last breaking the silence.
"I really don't know — you, perhaps, can tell," an-
swered she coldly.
'' You have frightened Rachel out of the room for one
thing," answered he, with a sneer.
"I simply asked her what she urged you to do — I
think I have a claim to know. It is strange so reasona-
ble a question from a wife should scare your sister from
the room."
"I don't quite see that — for my part, I don't thipk
anything strange in a woman. Rachel has been talking
the rankest nonsense, in the most unreasonable temper
conceiveable; and because she can't persuade me to ac-
cept her views of what is Christian and sensible, she
threatens to go mad — I think that is her phrase."
"I don't think Rachel is a fool," said Dorcas, quietly,
her eye still upon Stanley.


WYLDER'S HAJVE. 273
"Neither do I — when aha pleases to exert her good
sense — but she can, when she pleases, both talk and act
like a fool."
"And pray, what does she want you to do, Stanley?"
"The merest nonsense."
"But what is it?"
"I really can hardly undertake to say I very well un-
derstand it myself, and I have half-a-dozen letters to
write; and really if I were to stay here and try to ex-
plain, I very much doubt whether I could. Why don't
you ask her? If she has any clear ideas on the subject
I don't see why she should not tell you. For my part I
doubt if she understands herself—/certainly don't."
Dorcas smiled bitterly.
"Mystery already — mystery from the first, /am to
know nothing of your secrets. You confer and consult
in my house — you debate and decide upon matters most
nearly concerning, for aught I know, my interests and my
happiness — certainly deeply affecting you, and therefore
which I have a right to know; and my entering the room
is the signal for silence, for departure and for equivocation.
Stanley, you are isolating me. Beware — I may entrench
myself in that isolation. You are choosing, your confidant,
and excluding me; rest assured you shall have no confi-
dence of mine while you do so."
Stanley Lake looked at her with a gaze at once peevish
and inquisitive.
"You take a wonderfully serious view of Rachel's
nonsense."
"I do."
"Certainly, you women have a marvellous talent for
making mountains of molehills—you and Radio are
adepts in the art. Never was a poor devil so lectured about
12*


274 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
nothing as I between you. Come now, Dorkie, be a good
girl — you must not look so vexed."
"I'm not vexed."
"What then?"
"I'm only thinking."
She said this with the same bitter smile. Stanley Lake
looked for a moment disposed to break into one of his
furies, but instead he only laughed his unpleasant laugh.
"Well, I'm thinking too, and I find it quite possible to
be vexed at the same time. I assure you, Dorcas, I really
am busy; and it is too bad to have one's time wasted in
solemn lectures about stuff and nonsense. Do make Ra-
chel explain herself, if she can —1 have no objection, I
assure you; but I must be permitted to decline undertak-
ing to interpret that oracle. And so saying, Stanley Lake
glided into the library and shut the door with an angry
clap.
Dorcas did not deign to look after him. She had heard
his farewell address, looking from the window at the tow-
ering and sombre clumps of her ancestral trees — pale,
proud, with perhaps a peculiar gleam of resentment — or
malignity — in her exquisite features.
So she stood, looking forth on her noble possessions —
on terraces — " long rows of urns " — noble timber — all
seen in slanting sunlight and long shadows — and seeing
nothing but the great word FOOL! in letters of flame in
the air before her.


CHAPTER XLVI
A THREATENING NOTICE.
STANLEY LAKE was not a man to let the grass grow
under his feet when an object was to be gained. It was
with a sure prescience that Mark Wylder's letter had in-
ferred that Stanley Lake would aspire to the representa-
tion either of the county or of the borough of Polling-
ton. His mind was already full of these projects.
All the data, except the muster-roll of electors, were
in nubibus — who would retire — who would step for-
ward, as yet altogether in the region of conjecture. There
are men to whom the business of elections — a life of se-
cresy, excitement, speculation, and combat — has all but
irresistible charms; and Tom Wcaldon, the Town Clerk,
was such a spirit.
A bold, frank, good-humored fellow — he played at
elections as he would at cricket. Every faculty of eye, hand,
and thought — his whole heart and soul in the game.
But no ill-will — no malevolence in victory — no sourness
in defeat. A successful coup made Tom Wealdon split
with laughing. He did not show much; his official sta-
tion precluded prominence. He kept in the background,
and did his spiriting gently. But Tom Wealdon, it was
known — as things are known without evidence — was at
the bottom of all the clever dodges, and long-headed ma-
noeuvres. When, therefore, Mr. Larkin heard from the
portly and veracious Mr. Larcom, who was on very happy
relations with the proprietor of the Lodge, that Tom Weal-


276 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
don had been twice quietly to Brandon to lunch, and had
talke'd an hour alone with the Captain in the library each
time; and that they seemed very " hernest like, and stop-
ped talking directly he (Mr. Larcom) entered the room
with the post-bag " — the attorney knew very well what
was in the wind.
Now, it was not quite clear what was prudent — under
the circumstances. He was in confidential — which meant
lucrative — relations with Mark Wylder. Ditto, ditto
with Captain Lake, of Brandon. He did not wish to lose
either. Was it possible to hold to both, or must he cleave
only to one and despise the other?
Wylder might return any day, and Tom Wealdon would
probably be one of the first men whom he would see.
He must " hang out the signal," in "Galignani." Lake
could never suspect its meaning, even were he to see it.
There was but one risk in it, which was in the coarse per-
fidy of Mark Wylder himself, who would desire no better
fun, in some of his moods, than boasting to Lake of the
whole arrangement in Jos Larkin's presence.
However, on the whole, it was best to obey Mark Wyl-
der's orders, and accordingly " Galignani" said: "Mr.
Smith imll take notice that the other party is desu'ous
to purchase, and becoming very pressing."
In the meantime Lake was pushing his popularity among
the gentry with remarkable industry, and with tolerable
success. Wealdon's two little visits explained perfectly
the active urbanities of Captain Stanley Lake.
About three weeks after the appearance of the adver-
tisement in " Galignani," one of Mark Wylder's letters
reached Larkin. It was dated from Geneva (!) and
said: —
"DEAR LARKIN, — I saw my friend Smith here in the
pafe", who has kept a bright look out, I dare say; and


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 277
tells me that Captain Stanley Lake is thinking of standing
either for the county or for Dollington. I will thank
you to apprise him that I mean to take my choice first;
and please hand him the enclosed notice open as you get
it; and, if you please, to let him run his eye also over
a note to you, as I have my own reasons for wishing him
to know that you have seen it.
"This is all I will probably trouble you about elections
for some months to come, or, at least, weeks. It being
time enough when I go back, and no squalls a-head just
now at home, though foreign politics looks muggy enough.
"I have nothing particular at present about tenants or
timber, except the three acres of oak behind Farmer Tan-
by's — have it took down. Thomas Jones and me went
over it Last September, and it ought to bring near 3,000/.
I must have a good handful of money by May next.
u Yours, my dear Larkin,
"Very truly,
"MARK WYLDER."
Folded in this was a thin slip of foreign paper, on which
were traced these lines : —
"Private.
"DEAR LARKIN, — Don't funk the interview with the
beast, Lake—a hyaena has no pluck in him. When he
reads what I send him by your hand, he'll be as mild as
you please. Parkes must act for me as usual — no blus-
ter about giving up. Lake's afraid of yours,
"M. W."
Within was what he called his "notice" to Stanley
Lake, and it was thus conceived : —
"Private.
"DEAR LAKE — I understand you are trying to make


278 WVLDER'S H.4JVD.
all safe for next election in Dollington or the county.
Now, understand at once, that / won't permit that.
There is not a country gentleman on the grand jury who
is not your superior; and there is no extremity I will not
make you feel — and you know what I mean — if you
dare despise this first and not unfriendly warning.
"Yours truly,
MARK WYLDER/'
Now there certainly was need of Wylder's assurance
that nothing unpleasant should happen to the conscious
bearer of such a message to an officer and a gentleman.
Jos Larkin did not like it. Still there was a confidence
in his own conciliatory manners and exquisite tact. Some-
thing, too, might be learned by noting Lake's looks, de-
meanor, and language under this direct communication
from the man to whom his relations were so mysterious.
Larkin looked at his watch; it was about the hour when
he was likely to find Lake in his study. The attorney
withdrew the little private enclosure, and slipt it, with a
brief endorsement, into the neat sheaf of Wylder's let-
ters, all similarly noted, and so locked it up in the iron
safe. He intended being perfectly ingenuous with Lake,
and showing him that he had "no secrets — no conceal-
ments— all open as the day " — by producing the letter
in which the "notice" was enclosed, and submitting it
for Captain Lake's perusal.
When Lawyer Larkin reached the dim chamber, with
the Dutch tapestries, where he had for a little while to
await Captain Lake's leisure, he began to anticipate the
scene now so immediately impending more uncomfortably
than before. The "notice" was, indeed, so outrageous
in its spirit, and so intolerable in its language, that, know-
ing something of Stanley's wild and truculent temper, he


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 279
began to feel a little nervous about the explosion he was
about to provoke.
The Brandon connection, one way or other, was worth
to the attorney in hard cash between five and six hundred
a-year. In influence, and what is termed "position," it
was, of course, worth a great deal more. It would be a
very serious blow to lose this. He did not, he hoped,
care for money more than a good man ought; but such a
loss, he would say, he could not afford.
Precisely the same, however, was to be said of his con-
nection with Mark Wylder; and in fact, of late years Mr.
Jos. Larkin of the Lodge had begun to put by money BO fast
that he was growing rapidly to be a very considerable man
indeed. "Everything," as he said, "was doing very nice-
ly; and it would be a deplorable thing to mar, by any
untowad act. this pilgrim's quiet and prosperous progress.
In this stage of his reverie he was interrupted by a tall,
powdered footman, in the Brandon livery, who came re-
spectfully to announce that his master desired to see Mr.
Larkin.
Larkin's soul sneered at this piece of state. Why
could he not put his head in at the door and call him?
But still I think it impressed him, and that, diplomatical-
ly, Captain Lake was in the right to environ himself with
the ceremonial of a lord of Brandon.
"Well, Larkin, how d'ye do? Anything about
Baikes's lease?" said the great Captain Lake, rising from
behind his desk, with his accustomed smile, and extending
his gentleman-like hand.
"No, sir — nothing, Captain Lake. He has not come,
and I don't think we should show any anxiety about it," re-
plied the attorney, taking the Captain's thin hand rather
deferentially. "I've had — a — such a letter from my
— my client, Mr. Mark Wylder. He writes in a violent


280 WYLDER'S HAilVD.
passion, and I'm really placed in a most disagreeable po-
sition."
"Won't you sit down?"
"A — thanks — a — well I thought, on the whole,
having received the letter and the enclosure, which I
must say very much surprise me — very much indeed."
And Larkin looked reprovingly on an imaginary Mark
Wylder, and shook his head a good deal.
"He has not appointed another man of business?"
"Oh, dear, no," said Larkin, quickly, with a faint, su-
percilious smile. "No, nothing of that kind. The thing —
in fact, there has been some gossipping fellow. Do you
happen to know a person at all versed in Gylingden mat-
ters — or, perhaps, a member of your club — named
Smith?"
"Smith? I don't. I think, recollect any particular
Smith, just at this moment. And what is Smith doing or
saying?"
"Why, he has been talking over election matters. It
seems Wylder — Mr. Wylder — has met him in Geneva,
from whence he dates; and he says — he says — oh,
here's the letter, and you'll see it all there."
He handed it to Lake, and kept his eye on him while
he read it. When he saw that Lake, who bit bis lip dur-
ing the perusal, had come to the end, by his glancing up
again at the date, Larkin murmured —
"Something, you see, has gone wrong with him. I
can't account for the temper otherwise — so violent."
"Quite so," said Lake, quietly; "and where is the no-
tice he speaks of here?"
"Why, really, Captain Lake, I did not very well know,
it is such a production — I could not say whether you
would wish it presented; and in any case you will do me
the justice to understand that I, for my part — I really
don't know how to speak of it."


WYLDER'S HAJVD*^ 281
'' Quite so," repeated Lake, softly, taking the
neatly folded piece of paper which Larkin, with a sad in-
clination of his body, handed to him.
Lake, under the "lawyer's" small, vigilant eyes, qui»
etly read Mark Wylder's awful threatenings through,
twice over, and Larkin was not quite sure whether there
was any change of countenance to speak of as he did so.
"This is dated the 29th," said Lake, in the same quiet
tone; "perhaps you will be so good as to write a line
across it, stating the date of your handing it to me."
"I — of course — I can see no objection. I may
mention, I suppose, that I do so at your request."
And Larkin made a neat little endorsement to that ef-
fect, and he felt relieved. The hyaena certainly was not
showing fight.
"And now, Mr. Larkin, you'll admit, I think, that I've
exhibited no ill-temper, much less violence, under the
provocation of that note.
"Certainly; none whatever, Captain Lake."
"And you will therefore perceive that whatever I now
say, speaking in cool blood, I am not likely to recede
from."
Lawyer Larkin bowed.
"Arid may I particularly ask that you will so attend
to what I am about to say, as to be able to make a note
of it for Mr. Wylder's consideration."
"Certainly, if you desire; but I wish to say that in
this particular matter I beg it may be clearly understood
that Mr. Wylder is in no respect more my client than you,
Captain Lake, and that I merely act as a most reluctant
messenger in the matter."
"Just so," said Captain Lake
"Now, as to my thinking of representing either coun-
ty or borough," he resumed, after a little pause, holding


282 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Mark Wylder's " notice " between his finger and thumb,
and glancing at it from time to time, as a speaker might
at his notes, "I am just as well qualified as he in every
respect; and if it lies betvreeen him and me, I will un-
doubtedly offer myself, and accompany my address with
the publication of this precious document which he calls
his notice — the composition, in all respects, of a ruffian
— and which will inspire every gentleman who reads it
with disgust, abhorrence, and contempt. His threat I
don't understand. I despise his machinations. I defy
him utterly; and the time is coming when, in spite of his
manoeuvring, I'll drive him into a corner and pin him to
the wall. He very well knows that flitting and skulking
from place to place, like an escaped convict, he is safe in
writing what insults he pleases through the post. I can't
tell how or where to find him. But his game of hide-and-
seek cannot go on for ever; and when next I can lay my
hand upon him, I'll make him eat that paper on his knees,
and place my heel upon his neck."
The attorney was standing during this sample of Lake's
parliamentary rhetoric a little flushed, for he did not
know the moment when a blue flicker from the rhetorical
thunder-storm might splinter his own bald head, and for
ever end his connection with Brandon.
There was a silence, during which pale Captain Lake
locked up Mark Wylder's warning, and the attorney twice
cleared his voice.
"I need hardly say, Captain Lake, how I feel in this
business. I" —
"Quite so," said the Captain, in his soft low tones.
"I assure you I altogether acquit you of sympathy with
any thing so utterly ruffianly," and he took the hand of
the relieved attorney with a friendly condescension.
"The only compensation I exact for your involuntary


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 283
part in the matter is that you distinctly convey the tenor
of my language to Mr. Wylder, on the first occasion on
which he affords you an opportunity of communicating
with him. And as to my ever again acting as his trus-
tee ; — though, yes, I forgot" — he made a sudden pause,
and was lost for a minute in annoyed reflection — " yes, I
must for a while. It can't last very long; he must re-
turn soon, and I can't well refuse to act until at least
some other arrangement is made. There are quite other
persons and I can't allow them to starve."
So saying, he rose, with his peculiar smile, and extended
his hand to signify that the conference was at an end.
And Larkin took his hat, and gracefully withdrew.
CHAPTER XLVII.
IN WHICH I GO TO BRANDON, AND SEE AN OLD ACQUAIN-
TANCE IN THE TAPESTRY ROOM.
To my surprise, a large letter, bearing the Gylingden
postmark, and with a seal as large as a florin, showing,
had I examined the heraldry, the Brandon arms with the
Lake bearings quartered thereon, and proving to be a very
earnest invitation from Stanley Lake, found me in Lon-
don just about this time.
I paused; I was doubtful about accepting it, for the
business of the season was just about to commence in ear-
nest, and the country had not yet assumed its charms.
But I now know very well that from the first it was quite
settled that down I should go. I was too curious to see
the bride in her new relations, and to observe something


284 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
of the conjugal administration of Lake, to allow anything
seriously to stand in the way of my proposed trip.
There was a postscript to Lake's letter which might
have opened my eyes as to the motives of this pressing
invitation, which I pleased myself by thinking, though
penned by Captain Lake, came in reality from his beauti-
ful young bride.
This small appendix was thus conceived: —
"P. S.—Tom Wealdon, as usual, deep in elections,
under the rose, begs you kindly to bring down whatever
you think to be the best book or books on the subject,
and he will remit to your bookseller. Order them in his
name, but bring them down with you."
So I was a second time going down to Brandon as hon-
orary counsel, without knowing it. My invitations, I fear,
were obtained, if not under false pretences, at least upon
false estimates, and the laity rated my legal lore too high-
ly.
I reached Brandon rather late. The bride had retired
for the night. I had a very late dinner — in fact a sup-
per — in the parlor. Lake sat with me chatting, rather
cleverly, not pleasantly. Wealdon was at Brandon about
sessions business, and as usual full of election stratagems
and calculations. Stanley volunteered to assure me he
had not the faintest idea of looking for a constituency. I
really believe — and at this distance of time I may use
strong language in a historical sense — that Captain Lake
was the greatest liar I ever encountered with. He seemed
to do it without a purpose — by instinct, or on principle
— and would contradict himself solemnly twice or thrice
in a week, without seeming to perceive it. I dare say ho
lied always, and about everything. But it was in matters
of some moment that one perceived it.'


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 285
What object could he gain, for instance, by the fib he
had just told me? On second thoughts this night he
coolly apprised me that he had some idea of sounding the
electors. So, my meal ended, we went into the tapestry
room where, the night being sharp, a pleasant bit of fire
burned in the grate, and Wealdon greeted rne.
My journey predisposed me to sleep. Such volumes
of fine and various country air, and such an eight hours'
procession of all sorts of natural pictures are not tra-
versed without effect. Sitting in my well-stuffed chair,
my elbows on the cushioned arms, the conversation of
Lake and the Town Clerk now and then grew faint, and
their faces faded way. and little "fyttes" and fragments
of those light and pleasant dreams, like fairy tales, which
visit such stolen naps, superseded with their picturesque
and musical illusions the realities and recollections of life.
Once or twice a nod a little too deep or sudden called
me up. But Lake was busy about the Dollington con-
stituency, and the Town Clerk's bluff face was serious and
thoughtful. It was the old question about Rogers, the
brewer, and whether Lord Adleston and Sir William could
not get him; or else it had gone on to the great railway
contractor, Dobbs, and the question how many votes his
influence was really worth; and, somehow, I never got
very far into the pros and cons of these discussions, which
soon subsided into the fairy tale I have mentioned, and
that sweet perpendicular sleep — all the sweeter, like
everything else, for being contraband and irregular.
For one bout — I fancy a good deal longer than the
others — my nap was much sounder than before, and I
opened my eyes at last with the shudder and half horror
that accompany an awakening from a general chill — a
dismal and frightened sensation.
I was facing a door about twenty feet distant, which


286
exactly as I opened my eyes, turned slowly on its hinges,
and the figure of Uncle Lome, in his loose flannel habili-
ments, ineffaceably traced upon my memory, like every
other detail of that ill-omened apparition, glided into the
room, and crossing the thick carpet with long, soft steps,
passed near me, looking upon me with a malign sort of
curiosity for some two or three seconds, and sat down by
the declining fire, with a sidelong glance still fixed upon
me.
I continued gazing on this figure with a dreadful in-
credulity, and the indistinct feeling that it must be an al-
lusion — and that if I could only wake up completely, it
would vanish.
The fascination was disturbed by a noise at the other
end of the room, and I saw Lake standing close to him,
and looking both angry and frightened. Tom Wealdon
looking odd, too, was close at his elbow, and had his hand
on Lake's arm, like a man who> would prevent violence.
I do not know in the least what had passed before, but Lake
said —
"How the devil did he come in?"
"Hush!" was all that Tom Wealdon said, looking at
the gaunt spectre with less of fear than inquisitiveness.
"What are you doing here, sir?" demanded Lake, in
his most unpleasant tones.
"Prophesying," answered the phantom.
"You had better write your prophecies in your room,
sir — had not you ? — and give them to the Archbishop
of Canterbury to proclaim, when they are finished; we
are busy here just now, and don't require revelations, if
you please."
The old man lifted up his long lean finger, and turn-
ed on him with a smile which I hate even to remember.
"Let him alone," whispered the Town Clerk, in a


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 287
significant whisper, "don't cross him, and he'll not stay
long."
"Yow're here, a scribe," murmured Uncle Lome,
looking upon Tom Wealdon.
"Aye, sir, a scribe and a Pharisee, a Sadducee, and a
publican, and a priest, and a Levite," said the functionary,
with a wink at Lake. "Thomas Wealdon, sir; happy to
see you, sir, so well and strong, and likely to enlighten
the religious world for many a day to come. It's a long
time, sir, since I had the honor of seeing you; and I'm
always, of course, at your command."
"Pshaw!" said Lake, angrily.
The Town Clerk pressed his arm with a significant side
nod and a wink, which seemed to say, "I understand
him; can't you let me manage him?"
The old man did not seem to hear what they said; but
his tall figure rose up, and he extended the fingers of his
left hand close to the candle for a few seconds, and then
held them up to his eyes, gazing on his finger-tips, with a
horrified sort of scrutiny, as if he saw signs and portents
gathered there, and then the same cadaverous grin broke
out over his. features.
"Mark Wylder is in an evil plight," said he.
"Is he?" said Lake, with a sly scoff, though he seem-
ed to be a good deal scared. "We "hear no complaints,
however, and fancy he must be tolerably comfortable not-
withstanding.
"You know where he is," said Uncle Lome.
"Aye, in Italy; everyone knows that," answered
Lake.
"In Italy," said the old man, reflectively, as if trying
to gather up his ideas, "Italy. Oh ! yes, Vallombrosa —
aye, Italy, I know it well."
"So do we, sir; thank you for the information," said
Lake, who nevertheless appeared strangely uneasy.


288 WVLDER'S HAjYD.
"He has had a great tour to make. It is nearly ac-
complished now; when it is done, he will be like me, fm-
mano major. He has seen the places which you are yet
to see."
"Nothing I should like better; particularly Italy,"
said Lake.
"Yes," said Uncle Lome, lifting up slowly a different
finger at each name in his catalogue. "First, Lucus
Mortis; then Terra Tenebrosa; next, Tartarus ; after that
Terra Oblivionis; then Hcrebus; then Barathrum; then
Gehenna, and then Stagium Ignis."
"Of course," acquiesced Lake, with an ugly sneer,
and a mock bow.
"And to think that all the white citizens were once
men and women!" murmured Uncle Lome, with a
scowl.
"Quite so," whispered Lake.
"I know where he is," resumed the old man, with his
finger on his long chin, and looking down upon the car-
pet.
"It would be very convenient if you would favor us
with his address," said Stanley, with a gracious sneer.
"I know what became of him," continued the oracle.
"You are more in his confidence than we are," said
Lake.
"Don't be frightened — but he's alive; I think they'll
make him mad. It is a frightful plight. Two angels
buried him alive in Vallombrosa by night; I saw it, stand-
ing among the lotus and hemlock. A negro came to me,
a black clergyman with' white eyes, and remained beside
me; and the angels imprisoned Mark; they put him on
duty forty days and forty nights, with his ear to the river
listening for voices; and when it was over we blessed them;
and the clergyman walked with me a long while, to-and-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 289
and-fro upon the earth, telling me the wonders of the
abyss."
"And is it from the abyss, sir, he writes his letters?"
enquired the Town Clerk, with a wink at Lake.
"Yes, yes, very diligent; it behoves him; and his
hair is always standing straight on his head for fear. But
"he'll be sent up again, at last, a thousand, a hundred, ten
and one, black marble steps, and then it will be the other
one's turn. So it was prophesied by the black magici-
an."
"I thought, sir, you mentioned just now he was a
clergyman," suggested Mr. Wealdon, who evidently enjoy-
ed this wonderful yarn.
"Clergyman and magician both, and the chief of the
lying prophets with thick lips. He'll come here some
night and see you," said Uncle Lome, looking with a
cadaverous apathy on Lake, who was gazing at him in re-
turn, with a sinister smile.
"Maybe it was a vision, sir," suggested the Town
Clerk.
"Yes, sir; a vision, maybe," echoed the cavernous
tones of the old man; "but in the flesh or out of the flesh,
I saw it."
"You have had revelations, sir, I've heard," said Stan-
ley's mocking voice.
"Many," said the seer; "but a prophet is never hon-
ored. We live in solitude and privations — the world
hates us — they stone us — they cut us asunder, even
when we are dead. Feel me — I'm cold and white all
over — I died too soon — I'd have had wings now only for
that pistol. I'm as white as Gehazi, except of my head,
when that blood comes."
Saying which, he rose abruptly, and with long jerking
. ~J
18


29(; WYLDER'S HAXD.
steps limped to the door, at which, I saw, in the shade,
the face of a dark-featured man, looking gloomily in.
When he reached the door Uncle Lome suddenly stop-
ped and faced us, with a countenance of wrath and fear, and
threw up his arms in an attitude of denunciation, but said
nothing. I thought for a moment the gigantic spectre was
about to rush upon us in an access of frenzy; but what-
ever the impulse, it subsided — or was diverted by some
new idea; his countenance changed, and he beckoned as if
to some one in the corner of the room behind us, and
smiled his dreadful smile, and so left the apartment.
"That d—d old madman is madder than ever," said
Lake, in his fellest tones, looking steadfastly with his
peculiar gaze upon the closed door. "Jermyn is with him,
but he'll burn the house or murder some one yet. It's all
d—d nonsense keeping him here — did you see him at
the door? — he was on the point of assailing some of us.
He ought to be in a madhouse."
"He used to be very quiet," said the Town Clerk, who
knew all about him.
t' Oh! very quiet — yes, of course, very quiet, and
quite harmless to people who don't live in the house with
him, and sec him but once in half-a-dozen years; but you
can't persuade me it is quite so pleasant for those who
happen to live under the same roof, and are liable to be
intruded upon as we have been to-night every hour of their
existence."
"Well, certainly it is not pleasant, especially for ladies,"
admitted the Town Clerk.
"No, not pleasant— and I've quite made up my mind
it shan't g*> on. It is too absurd, really, that such a
monstrous thing should be enforced; I'll get a private Act,
next session, and regulate those absurd conditions in the
will. The old fellow ought to be under restraint; and I
rather think it would be better for himself that he were."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. . 291
"Who is he?" I asked, speaking for the first time.
"I thought you had seen him before now," said Lake.
"So I have, but quite alone, and without ever learning
who he was," I answered.
"Oh! He is the gentleman, Julius, for whom in the
will, under which we take, those very odd provisions are
made — such as I believe no one but a Wylder or a Bran-
don would have dreamed of. It is an odd state of things
to hold one's estate under condition of letting a madman
wander about your house and place, making everybody in
it uncomfortable and insecure, and exposing him to the
imminent risk of making away with himself, either by ac-
cident or design. I happen to know what Mark Wylder
would have done — for he spoke very fiercely on the sub-
ject — perhaps he consulted you?"
"No."
"No? well, he intended locking him quietly into the
suite of three apartments, you know, at the far end of the
old gallery, and giving him full command of the mulberry
garden by the little private stair, and putting a good iron
door to it; so that " my beloved brother, Julius, at pres-
ent afflicted in mind" (Lake quoted the words of the will,
with an unpleasant sneer,) should have had his apartments
and his pleasure grounds quite to himself."
"And would that arrangement of Mr. Wylder's have
satisfied the conditions of the will?" said the Town
Clerk.
"I rather think, with proper precautions, it would.
Mark Wylder was very shrewd, and would not have run
himself into a fix," answered Lake. "I don't know any
man shrewder; he is", certainly."
And Lake looked at us, as he added these last words,
in turn, with a quick, suspicious glance, as if he had said
something rash, and doubted whether we had observed it.


292 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
After a little more talk, Lake and the Town Clerk re-
sumed their electioneering conference, and the lists of
electors were passed under their scrutiny, name bj name,
like slides under the miscroscope.
The Town Clerk knew the constituency of Dollington
at bis fingers' ends; and Stanley Lake quietly enjoyed,
as certain minds will, the nefarious and shabby metamor-
phosis which every now and then some familiar and res-
pectable burgess underwent, in the spell of half-a-dozen
dry sentences whispered in his ear; and all this minute
information is trustworthy and quite without malice.
I went to my bedroom, and secured the door, lest Un-
cle Lome, or Julius, should make me another midnight
visit. So that mystery was cleared up. Neither ghost
nor spectral illusion, but flesh and blood — though in my
mind there has always been a horror of a madman akin to
the ghostly or demoniac.
I do not know how late Tom Wealdon and Stanley
Lake sat up over their lists; but I dare say they were in
no hurry to leave them, for a dissolution was just then ex-
pected, and no time was to be lost.
When I saw Tom Wealdon alone next day in the street
of Gylingden, he walked a little way with me, and, said
Tom, with a grave wink —
"Don't let the Captain up there be hard on the poor
old gentleman. He's quite harmless — he would not hurt
a fly. I know about him; for Jack Ford and I spent five
weeks in the Hall, about twelve years ago, when the fam-
ily were away and thought the keeper was not kind to him.
He fancies he's a prophet: and says he's that old Sir
Lome Brandon that shot himself in his bedroom. Well,
he is a rum one; and we used to draw him out — poor
Jack and me. But he's as innocent as a child — and you
know them directions in the will is very strong; and they


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 293
say Jos Larkin does not like the Captain a bit too well —
and he has the will off, every word of it; and I think, if
Captain Lake doos not take care, he may get into trouble;
and maybe it would not be amiss if you gave him a hint."
Tom Wealdon, indeed, was a good-natured fellow; and
if he had had his way, I think the world would have gone
smoothly enough with most people.
CHAPTER XLVIII
LARCOM, THE BUTLER, VISITS THE ATTORNEY.
Now I may as well mention here an occurrence which,
seeming very insignificant, has yet a bearing upon the
current of this tale, and it is this. About four days after
the receipt of the despatches to which the conference of
Captain Lake and the attorney referred, there came a let-
ter from the same prolific correspondent, dated 20th March,
from Genoa, which altogether puzzled Mr. Larkin. It
commenced thus: —
"GENOA: 20th March.
"DEAR LARKIN, — I hope you did the three commis-
sions all right. Wealdon won't refuse, I reckon — but
don't let Lake guess what the 15(W. is for. Pay Martin
for the job when finished; it is under 60/. mind; and get
it looked at first."
There was a great deal more, but these were the pas-
sages which perplexed Larkin. He unlocked the iron
safe, and took out the sheaf of Wylder's letters, and con-
ned the last one over very carefully.


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Why," said he, holding the text before hia eyes in
one hand, and with the fingers of the other touching the
top of his bald forehead, " Tom Wealdon is not once men-
tioned in this, nor in any of them; and this palpably re-
fers to some direction. And IS0/. ? — no such sum has
been mentioned. And what is this job of Martin's? Is
it Martin of the China Kilns, or Martin of the Bank?
That, too, plainly refers to a former letter — not a word
of the sort. This is very odd indeed."
Larkin's finger-tips descended over his eyebrow, and
scratched in a miniature way there for a few seconds, and
then his large long hand descended further to his chin,
and his under-lip was, as usual in deep thought, fondled
and pinched between his finger and thumb.
"There has plainly been a letter lost, manifestly. I
never knew anything wrong in this Gylingden office.
Driver has been always correct; but it is hard to know
any man for certain in this world. I don't think the
Captain would venture anything so awfully hazardous. I
really can't suspect so monstrous a thing ; but, unquestion-
ably, a letter has been lost — and who's to take it?"
Larkin made a fuller endorsement than usual on this
particular letter, and ruminated over the correspondence
a good while, with hip lip between his finger and thumb,
and a shadow on his face, before he replaced it in its iron
drawer.
"It is not a thing to be passed over," murmured the
attorney, who had come to a decision as to the first step
to be taken, and he thought with a qualm of the effect of
one of Wylder's confidential notes getting into Captain
Lake's hands.
While he was buttoning his walking boots, with his
foot on the chair before the fire, a tap at his study door
surprised him. A hurried glance on the table satisfying
him that no secret paper or despatch lay there, ho called,


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 295
"Come in."
And Mr. Larcom, the grave butler of Brandon, wear-
ing outside his portly person a black garment then known
as a " zephyr," a white choker and black trousers, and
vi (.-II polished, but rather splay shoes, and, on the whole,
his fat and serious aspect considered, being capable of be-
ing mistaken for a church dignitary, or at least for an
eminent undertaker, entered the room with a solemn and
gentlemanlike reverence.
"Oh, Mr. Larcom! a message, or business? "'saidMr.
Larkin, urbanely.
"Not a message, sir; only an enquiry about them few
shares," answered Mr. Larcom, with another serene rev-
erence, and remaining standing, hat in hand, at the door.
"Oh, yes; and how do you do, Mr. Larcom? Quite
well, I trust. Yes — about the Naunton Junction. Well,
I'm happy to tell you —but pray take'a chair — that I
have succeeded, and the directors have allotted you five
shares; and it's your own fault if you don't make two
ten-and-six a share. The Chowsleys are up to six and
a-half, I see here," and he pointed to the " Times."
Mr. Larcom's fat face smiled, in spite of his endeavor
to keep it under. It was part of his business to look al-
ways grave, and he coughed, and recovered his gravity.
"I'm very thankful, sir," said Mr. Larcom, " very."
"But do sit down, Mr. Larcom — pray do," said the
attorney, who was very gracious to Larcom. "You'll
get the scrip, you know, on executing, but the shares are
allotted. They sent the notice for you here. And — and
how are the family at Brandon— all well, I trust?"
Mr. Larcom blew his nose.
"All, sir, well."
"And — and let me give you a glass of sherry. Mr.
Larcom, after your walk. I can't compete with the Bran-


296 WVLDER'S HAjYD.
don sherry, Mr. Larcom. Wonderful fine wine that!—
but still I'm told this is not a bad wine notwithstand-
ing.''
Larcom received it with grave gratitude, and sipped it,
and spoke respectfully cf it.
"And — and any news in that quarter of Mr. Mark
Wylder — any — any surmise? I — you know — I'm
interested for all parties."
"Well, sir, of Mr. Wylder, I can't say as I know no
more than he's been a subjeck of much unpleasant feelin',
which I should say there has been a deal of angry talk
since I last saw you, sir, between Miss Lake and the Cap-
ting."
"Ah, yes, you mentioned something of the kind; and
your own impression, that Captain Lake, which I trust
may turn out to be so, knows where Mr. Mark Wylder is
at present staying."
'' I much misdoubt, sir, it won't turn out to be no good
story for no one," said Mr. Larcom, in a low and sad tone,
and with a long shake of his head.
"No good story — hey? How do you mean, Lar-
com?"
"Well, sir, I know you won't mention me, Mr. Lar-
kin."
"Certainly not — go on."
"When people gets hot a-talking they won't mind a
body comin' in; and that's how the Capting and Miss
Rachel Lake they carried on their dispute like, though me
coming into the room."
"Just so; and what do you found your opinion about
Mr. Mark Wylder on?"
"Well, sir, I could not hear more than a word now and
a sentince again; and pickin' what meaning I could out
of what Miss L'ikc said, and the Cupting could not deny,


IVYLDER'S HAjYD. 297
I do suspeck, sir, most serious, as how they have put Mr.
Mark Wylder into a mad-house; and that's how I think
it's gone with him; an' you'll never see him out again if
the Capting has his will."
"Do you mean to say you actually think he's shut up
in a mad-house at this moment?" demanded the attorney;
his little pink eyes opened quite round, and his lank cheeks
and tall forehead flushed, at the rush of wild ideas that
whirred round him, like a covey of birds at the startling
suggestion. "Did either Miss Lake or the Captain use
the word mad-house?"
"Well, no."
"Or any other word — lunatic asylum, or a — bedlam)
or — or any other word meaning the same thing?"
"Well, I can't say, sir, as I remember; but I rayther
think not. I only know for certain, I took it so; and I
do believe as how Mr. Mark Wylder is confined in a
mad-house, and the Captain knows all about it, and won't
do nothing to get him out."
"H'm — very odd — very strange; but it is only from
the general tenor of what passed, by a sort of guess work,
you have arived at that conclusion?"
Larcom assented.
"Well, Mr. Larcom, I think you have been led into
an erroneous conclusion. Indeed, I may mention I have
reason to think so — in fact, to know that such is the
case. What you mention to me, you know, as a friend
of the family, and holding, as I do, a confidential position
alike in relation to Mr. Wylder and to the family of
Brandon Hall, is of course sacred; and any thing that
comes from you, Mr. Larcom, is never heard in connec-
tion with your name beyond these walls. And let me
add, it strikes me as highly important, both in the inter-
eats of the leading individuals in this unpleasant business,


298 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
and also as pertaining to your own comfort and security,
that you should avoid communicating what you have just
mentioned to any other party. You understand?"
Larcom did understand perfectly, and so this little visit
ended.
Mr. Larkin took a turn or two up and down the room
thinking. He stopped, with his finger tips to his eye-
brow, and thought more. Then he took another turn,
and stopped again, and threw back his head, and gazed
for a while on the ceiling, and then he stood for a time
at the window, with his lip between his finger and thumb.
No, it was a mistake; it could not be. It was Mark
Wylder's penmanship — he could swear to it. There
was no trace of madness in his letters, nor of restraint.
It was not possible even that he was wandering from
place to place under the coercion of a couple of keepers.
No; Wylder was an energetic and somewhat violent per-
son, with high animal courage, and would be sure to
break through any such machination. No, no; it w«s
quite out of the question — altogether visionary and im-
practicable. Persons like Larcom do make such absurd
blunders, and so misapprehend the conversation of edu-
cated people.
Mr. Larkin walked down direct to Gylingden, and paid
a rather awful visit to Mr. Driver, of the post-office. A
foreign letter, addressed to him, had most positively been
lost. He had called to mention the circumstance, lest Mr.
Driver should be taken by surprise by official investigation.
Was it possible that the letter had been sent by mistake
to Brandon — to Captain Lake? Lake and Larkin you
know, might be mistaken. At all events, it would be well
to make your clerks recollect themselves. (Mr. Larkin
knew that Driver's "clerks" were his daughters.) It
is not easy to meet with a young fellow that is quite hon-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 299
est. But if they knew that they would be subjected to a
sifting examination on oath, on the arrival of the commis-
sioner, they might possibly prefer finding the letter, in
which case there would be no more about it. Mr. Driver
knew him (Mr. Larkin), and he might tell his young mei>
if they got the letter for him they should hear no more of
it.
CHAPTER XLIX.
NEW LIGHTS.
A FEW days later "Jos Larkin, Esq. The Lodge,
Gylingden," received from London a printed form, duly
filled in, and with the official signature attached, inform-
him that enquiry having been instituted in consequence
of his letter, no result had been obtained.
The hiatus in his correspondence caused Mr. Larkin ex-
treme uneasiness. He had a profound distrust of Cap-
tain Lake. In faot, he thought him capable of everything.
And if there should turn out to be anything not quite
straight going on at the post-office, of Gylingden — hith-
erto an unimpeached institution — he had no doubt what*
'soever that that dark and sinuous spirit was at the bottom
of it.
Still it was too prodigious, and too hazardous to be prob-
able; but the Captain had no sort of principle, and a des-
perately strong head. There was not, indeed, when they
met yesterday, the least change or consciousness in the
Captain's manner. That, in another man, would have in-
dicated something; but Stanley Lake was so deep — such
a mask — in him it meant nothing.
- J


WYLDER'S HJUVI). 301
And the attorney took out his keys, looking pale and
stern, like a man about to open the door upon a horror,
and unlocked his safe, and took out the oft-consulted and
familiar series — letters tied up and bearing the label,
"Mark Wylder, Esq."
"Aye, here it is, Genoa, 20th, and this, Venice, 28th.
Yes, the postmarks correspond; yet the letter from Genoa,
dated 20th, refers back to the letter from Venice, written
eight days later! the — well — I can't comprehend —
how in the name of—how in the name " —
He placed the two letters on his desk, and read them
over, and up and down, and pondered darkly over them.
"It is Mark Wylder's writing — I'll swear to it.
What on earth can he mean? He can't possibly want to
confuse us upon dates, as well as places, because that
would simply render his letters, for purposes of business,
nugatory, and there are many things he wishes attended
to."
Jos Larkin rose from his desk, ruminating, and went to
the window, and placed the letter against the pane. I
don't think he had any definite motive in doing this, but
something struck him that he had not remarked before.
There was something different in the quality of the ink
that wrote the number of the date, 28th, from that used
in the rest of the letter.
"What can that mean? " muttered Larkin, with a sort
of gasp at his discovery; and shading his.eyes with his
hand, he scrutinised the numerals—"28th," again; —
"a totally different ink!"
He took the previous letter, frowned on it fiercely from
his rat-like eyes, and then with an ejaculation, as like an
oath as so good a man could utter, he exclaimed,
"I have it!"
Then came a pause, and he said —


302 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Both alike! — blanks left when the letters were
written, and the dates filled in afterward — not the same
hand I think — no, not the same — positively a diflerent
hand."
Then Jos Larkin examined these mysterious epistles
once more.
"There may be something in what Larcom said — a
very great deal, possibly. If he was shut up somewhere
they could make him write a set of these letters off at a
sitting, and send them from place to place to be posted
to make us think he was travelling, and prevent our finding
where they keep him. Here it is plain there was a slip
in posting the wrong one first."
Well, if Stanley Lake were at the bottom of this hor-
rid conspiracy, he certainly had a motive in clearing the
field of his rival. And then — for the attorney had all
the family settlements present to his mind — there was
this clear motive for prolonging his life, that by the slip in
the will under which Dorcas Brandon inherited, the bulk
of her estate would terminate with the life of Mark Wyl-
der; and this other motive too existed for retaining him
in the house of bondage, that by preventing his marriage,
and his having a family to succeed him, the reversion of his
brother William was reduced to a certainty, and would
become a magnificent investment for Stanley Lake when-
ever he might choose to purchase. Upon that purchase,
however, the good attorney had cast his eye. He thought
he now began to discern the outlines of a gigantic and
symmetrical villany emerging through the fog. If this
theory were right, William Wylder's reversion was cer-
tain to take effect; and it was exasperating that the na-
tive craft and daring of this inexperienced Captain should
forestall so accomplished a man of business as Jos Larkin.
On the other hand, it was quite possible that Wylder


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 303
was a free agent, and yet, for purposes of secrecy, employ-
ing another person to p«st his letters at various continen-
tal towns; and this blunder might just as well have hap-
pened in this case, as in any other that supposed the same
machinery.
On the whole, then, it was a difficult question. But
there were Larcom's conclusions about the mad-house to
throw into the balance. And though, as respected Mark
Wylder, they were grisly, the attorney would not have
been sorry to be quite sure that they were sound. What
he most needed were ascertained data. With these his
opportunities were immense.
Mr. Larkin eyed the Wylder correspondence now with
a sort of reverence that was new to him. There was
something supernatural and talismanic in the mystery.
The sheaf of letters lay before him on the table, like Cor-
nelius Agrippa's "blooody book " — a thing to conjure
with. What prodigies might it not accomplish for its
happy possessor, if only he could read it aright, and com-
mand the spirits which its spells might call up before
him? Yes, it was a stupendous secret. Who knew to
what it might conduct? There was a shade of guilt in
his tamperings with it, akin to the black art, which he
felt without acknowledging. This little parcel of letters
was, in its evil way, a holy thing. While it lay on the
table, the room became the holy of holies in his dark re-
ligion; and the lank attorney, with tall bald head, shaded
face, and hungry dangerous eyes, a priest or a magician.
The attorney quietly bolted his study door, and stood
erect, with his hands in his pockets, looking sternly down
on the letters. Then he took a little-gazetteer off a tiny
shelf near the bell-rope, where was a railway guide, an
English dictionary, a French ditto, and a Bible, and with
his sharp penknife ho deftly sliced from its place in the
work of reference the folded map of Europe.


304 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
It was destined 'to illustrate the correspondence, and
Larkin sat down before it and surveyed, with a solemn
stare, the wide scene of Mark Wylder's operations, as a
general would the theatre of his rival's strategy.
Referring to the letters, as he proceeded, with a sharp
pen in red ink, he made his natty little note upon each
town or capital in succession, from which Wylder had da-
ted a despatch. Boulogne, for instance, a neat little red
cross over the town, and beneath, "12th October, 1854;"
Brighton ditto "20th October, 1854;" Paris, ditto,
"17th November, 1854;" Marseilles, ditto, "26th No-
vember, 1854;" Frankfort, ditto, " 22nd February,
1855;" Geneva, ditto, "10th March, 1855;" Genoa,
ditto, "20th March, 1855;" Venice, ditto, "28th
March, 1855."
I may here mention that in the preceding notation I
have marked the days and months exactly, but the years
fancifully.
Now Mr. Larkin was going into this business as he did
into others, methodically. He, therefore, read what his
gazetteer had to say about these towns and cities, stand-
ing, for better light, at the window. But though, the typo
being small, his eyes were more pink than before, he was
nothing wiser, the information being of that niggardly
historical and statistical kind which availed nothing in his
present scrutiny. Ho would get Murray's handbooks, and
all sorts of works — he was determined to read it up.
He was going into this as into a great -speculative case, in
which he had a heavy stake, with all his activity, craft,
and unscrupulousness. It might be the making of him.
His treasure — his oracle — his book of power, the la-
belled parcel of Wylder's letters, with the annotated map
folded beside them — he replaced in their red-taped liga-
ture in his iron safe, and with Chubb's key in his pock-


WVLDER'S HAJVD. 3Q5
et, took his hat and cane — the day was fine — and
walked forth for Brandon and the Captain's study.
CHAPTER L.
A FRACAS IN THE LIBBABY.
IT was still early in the day. Larcom received him
gravely in the hall. Captain Lake was at home, as usuaj,
up to one o'clock in the library — the most diligent ad-
ministrator that Brandon had perhaps ever known.
"Well, Larkin — letters. letters perpetually, you see.
Quite well, I hope? Won't you sit down — no bad news?
You look rather melancholy. Your other client is not
ill — nothing sad about Mark Wylder, I hope?"
"No — nothing sad, Captain Lake — nothing — but
a good deal that is strange."
"Oh, is there?" said Lake in his soft tones, leaning
forward in his easy chair, and looking on the shining
points of his boots.
"I have found out a thing, Captain Lake, which will
no doubt interest you as much as it does me. It will
lead, I think, to a much more exact guess about Mr.
Mark Wylder."
There was an emphasis in the attorney's speech which
was far from usual, and indicated something.
"Oll! you have? May one hear it? " said Lake, in
the same silken tone, and looking down, as before, on his
boots.
*' I've discovered something about his letters," said the
attorney, and paused.


306 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Satisfactory, I hope?" said Lake as before.
"Foul play, sir."
"Foul play.— is there? What is he doing now?"
said Lake in the same languid way, his clboVs on the
arms of his chair, stooping forward, and looking serenely
on the floor, like a man who is tired of his work, and en-
joys his respite.
"Why, Captain Lake, the matter is this — it amounts,
in fact, to fraud. It is plain that the letters are writ-
ten in batches — several at a time — and committed to
some one to carry from town to town, and post, having
previously filled in dates to make them correspond with
the exact period of posting them."
The attorney's searching gaze was fixed on the Cap-
tain, as he said this, with all the significance consistent
with civility; but he could not observe the slightest in-
dication of change. I daresay the Captain felt his gaze
upon him, and he undoubtedly heard his emphasis, but
he plainly did not take either to himself.
"Indeed! that is very odd," said Captain Lake.
"Very odd," echoed the attorney.
It struck Mr. Larkin that his gallant friend was a
little over-acting, and showing perhaps less interest in
the discovery than was strictly natural.
"But how can you show it?" said Lake with a slight
yawn. "Wylder is such a fellow. I don't the least
pretend to understand him. It may be a freak of his."
"I don't think, Captain Lake, that is exactly a possi-
ble solution here. I don't think, sir, he would write
two letters, one referring back to the other, at the same
time, and post and date the latter more than a week be-
fore the ott\pr."
"Oh!" said Lake, quietly, for the first time exhibit-
ing a slight change of countenance, and looking peevish
and excited: "yes, that certainly does look very oddly."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 307
"And I think, Captain Lake, it behoves us to leave
no stone unturned to sift this matter to the bottom."
"With what particular purpose, I don't quite see,"
said Lake. "Don't you think possibly Mark Wylder
might think us very impertinent?"
"I think, Captain Lake, on the contrary, we might
be doing that gentleman the only service he is capable of
receiving, and I know we should be doing something to-
ward tracing and exposing the machinations of a conspir-
acy."
"'A conspiracy! I did not quite see your meaning.
Then, you really think there is a conspiracy — formed by
him or against him, which?"
." Against him, Captain Lake. Did the same idea
never strike you?"
"Not, I think, that I can recollect."
"In none of your conversations upon the subject with
— with members of your family?" continued the attor-
ney, with a grave significance.
"I say, sir, I don't recollect," said Lake, glaring for
an instant in his face very savagely. And pray, sir, have
you no evidence in the letters you speak of but the in-
sertion of dates, and the posting them in inverse order,
to letyj you to that strong conclusion?"
"None, as supplied by the letters themselves," an-
swered Lapkin, a little doggedly, "and I venture to think
that is rather strong."
"Quite so, to a mind like yours," said Lake, with a
faint gleam of his unpleasant smile thrown upon the floor,
'"but other men don't see it; and I hope, at all events,
there's a likelihood that Mark Wylder will soon return
and look after his own business — I'm quite tired of it,
and of" (he was going to say you) — " of everything
connected with it."


308 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"This delay is attended with more serious mischief.
The Vicar, his brother, had a promise of money from him,
and is in very great embarrassments; and, in fact, were
it not for some temporary assistance, which I may men-
tion — although I don't speak of such things — I afford-
ed him myself, he must have been ruined."
"Don't you think he might take steps to relieve him-
self considerably?"
'' I don't see it, Captain Lake," said the attorney, sad-
ly and drily.
"Well, you know best; but are not there resources?"
"I don't see, Captain Lake, what you point at."
"I'll give him something for his reversion, if he choos-
es, and make him comfortable for his life."
"I don't know, sir, that the Reverend Mr. Wylder
would entertain anything in the nature of a sale of his
reversion. I rather think the contrary. I don't think
his friends would advise it."
"And why not! It was never more than a contin-
gency; and now they say that Mark Wylder is married,
and has children; they tell me he was seen at Ancona,"
said Lake tranquilly.
"They tell you! who are they?" said the attorney,
and his dove's eyes were gone again, and the rat's eyes
unequivocally looking out of the small pink lids.
"They—they," repeated Captain Lake. "Why, of
course, sir, I use the word in its usual sense — that is,
there is, there was a rumor when I was last in town, and
I really forget who told me. Some one, two, or three,
perhaps."
"Do you think it's true, sir?" persisted Mr. Larkin.
"No, sir, I don't," said Captain Lake, fixing his eyes
for a moment with a frank stare on the attorney's face;
"but it is quite possible it may bo true."


810 WYLDER' S HAJVD.
in both hands, and the seat interposed between himself
and Captain Lake. He was twisting his neck uncomfor-
tably in his shirt collar, and for some seconds was more
agitated, in a different way, than his patron was.
The fact was, that Mr. Larkin had a little mistaken his
man. He had never happened before to see him in one
of his violent moods, and fancied that his apathetic man-
ner indicated a person more easily bullied. There was
something, too, in the tone and look of Captain Lake
which went a good way to confound and perplex his sus-
picions, and he half fancied that the masterstroke he had
hazarded was a rank and irreparable blunder.
"Allow me to speak a word, Captain Lake."
"You d—d old miscreant!" repeated the candescent
Captain.
"Allow me to say, you misapprehend."
"You infernal old cur!"
. "I mean no imputation upon you, sir. I thought you
might have committed a mistake—any man may; per-
haps you have. I have acted, Captain Lake, with fidelity
in all respects to you. and to every client for whom I've
been concerned. Mr. Wylder is my client, and I was
bound to say I was not satisfied about his present position,
which seems to me unaccountable, except on the supposi-
tion that he is under restraint of some sort. I never said
you were to blame; but you may be in error respecting
Mr. Wylder. You may have taken steps, Captain Lake,
under a mistake. I never went further than that. On
reflection, you'll say so. I didn't, upon my honor."
"Then you did not mean to insult me, sir?" said Lake.
"Upon my honor, and conscience, and soul, Captain
Lake," said the attorney, stringing together, in his vindi-
cation, all the articles he was assumed most to respect,
"I am perfectly frank I do assure you. I never sup-


WYLDER'S SAJVD. 311
posed for an instant more than I say. I could not ima-
gine — I am amazed you have so taken it."
"But you think I exercise some control or coercion
over my cousin, Mr. Mark Wylder. He's not a man, I
can tell you, wherever he is, to be bullied, no more than
I am. I don't correspond with him. I have nothing to
do with him or his affairs; I wash my hands of him.
Captain Lake turned and walked quickly to the door,
but came back as suddenly.
"Shake hands, sir. We'll forget it. I accept what
you say; but don't talk that way to me again. I can't
imagine what the devil put such stuff in your head. I
don't care two pence. No one's to blame but Wylder
himself. I say I don't care a farthing. Upon my honor,
I quite see — I now acquit you. You could not mean
what you seemed to say; and I can't understand how a
sensible man like you, knowing Mark Wylder, and know-
ing me, sir, could use such — such ambiguous language..
I have no more influence with him, and can no more af-
fect his doings, or what you call his fate — and, to say
the truth, care about them no more than the child unborn.
He's his own master, of course. What the devil can
you've been dreaming of. I don't even get a letter from
him. He's nothing to me."
"You have misunderstood me; but that's over, sir. I
may have spoken with warmth, fearing that you might be
acting under some cruel misapprehension — that's all;
and you don't think worse of me. I'm very sure, Captain
Lake, for a little indiscreet zeal on behalf of a gentleman
who has treated me with such unlimited confidence as Mr.
Wylder. I'd do the same for you, sir; it's my charac-
ter."
The two gentlemen, you perceive, though still agitat-
ed, were becoming reasonable, and more or less compli-
mentary and conciliatory; and the masks which an elec-


312 WYLDER'S HA.VD.
trie gust had displaced for a moment, revealing gross and
somewhat repulsive features were being readjusted, while
each looked over his shoulder.
I am sorry to say that when that good man, Mr. Lar-
kin, left his presence, Captain Lake indulged in a perfect-
ly blasphemous monologue. His fury was excited to a
pitch that was very nearly ungovernable; and after it
had exhibited itself in the way I have said, Captain Lake
opened a little despatch-box, and took therefrom a foreign
letter, but three days received. He read it through: his
ill- omened smile expanded to a grin that was undisguisedly
diabolical. With a scissors he dipt his own name where
it occurred from the thin sheet, and then, in red ink and
Roman capitals, he scrawled a line or two across the inte-
rior of the letter, enclosed it in an envelope, directed it,
and then rang the bell.
He ordered the tax-cart and two horses to drive tan-
dem. The Captain was rather a good whip, and he drove
at a great pace to Dollington, took the train on to Char-
teris, there posted his letter, and so returned; his temper
continuing savage all that evening, and in a modified de-
gree in the same state for several days after.
CHAPTER LI.
AN OLD FRIEND LOOKS INTO THE OABDEN AT REDMAN'S
FARM.
LADY CHELFORD, with one of those sudden changes of
front which occur in female strategy, on hearing that
Stanley Lake was actually accepted by Dorcas, had as-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 313
sailed both him and his sister, whom heretofore she had
petted and distinguished, with a fury that was startling.
As respects Rachel, we know how unjust was the attack.
And when the dowager opened her fire on Rachel, the
young lady replied with a spirit and dignity to which she
was not at all accustomed.
So soon as Dorcas obtained a hearing, which was not
for some time — for she, "as a miserable and ridiculous
yictim and idiot," was nearly as deep in disgrace as those
"shameless harpies the Lakes "—she told the whole truth
as respected all parties with her superb and tranquil
frankness.
Lady Chelford ordered her horses, and was about to
leave Brandon next morning. But rheumatism arrested
her indignant flight; and during her week's confinement
to her room, her son contrived so that she consented to
stay for " the odious ceremony," and was even sourly
civil to Miss Lake, who received her advances quite as
coldly as they were made.
To Miss Lake, Lord Chelford, though not in set terms,
yet in many pleasanter ways, apologised for his mother's
impertinence. Dorcas had told him also the story of
Rachel's decided opposition to the marriage.
He was so particularly respectful to her — he showed
her by the very form into which he shaped his good wishes
that he knew how frankly she had opposed the marriage
— how true she had been to her friend Dorcas — and she
understood him and was grateful.
In fact, Lord Chelford, whatever might be his opinion
of the motives of Captain Lake and the prudence of Dor-
cas, was clearly disposed to make the best of the inevita-
ble, and to stamp the new Brandon alliance with whatever
respectability his frank recognition could give it.
Old Lady Chelford's bitter and ominous acquiescence
14


314 WYLDER'S
also came, and the presence of mother and son at the so-
lemnity averted the family scandal which the old lady's
first access of frenzy threatened.
This duty discharged, she insisted, in the interest of her
rheumatism, upon change of air; and on arriving at Bux-
ley, was quite surprised to find Lady Dulhampton and her
daughters there upon a similar quest. •
Lord Chelford was not long away when the story of
Lady Constance was again alive and vocal. It reached
old Jackson through his sister, who was married to the
brother of the Marquis of Bulhampton's solicitor. It
reached Lake from Tom Twitters, of his club, who kept
the Brandon Captain au courant of the town-talk; and
it came to Dorcas in a more authentic fashion, though
mysteriously, and rather in the guise of a conundrum than
of a distinct bit of family intelligence, from no less a per-
son than the old Dowager Lady Chelford herself.
Stanley Lake, who had begun to entertain hopes for
Kachel in that direction, went down to Redman's Farm,
and, after his bleak and bitter fashion, rated the young
lady for having perversely neglected her opportunities and
repulsed that most desirable parti. In this he was in-
tensely in earnest, for the connection would have done
wonders for Captain Lake in the county.
Rachel met this coarse attack with quiet contempt; told
him that Lord Chelford had, she supposed, no idea of mar-
rying out of his own rank; and further, that he, Captain
Lake, must perfectly comprehend, if he could not appre-
ciate, the reasons which would for ever bar any such rela-
tion.
But Rachel, though she treated the subject serenely in
this interview, was sadder and more forlorn 'than ever, and
lay awake at night, and perhaps, if we knew all, shed
some secret tears; and then with time came healing of
these sorrows.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 3J5
Rachel's talks with the Vicar -were frequent; and poor
little Mrs. William Wylder, who knew not the reasons of
his visits. fell slowly, and to the good man's entire bewil-
derment, into a chronic jealousy. It expressed itself
'enigmatically: it was circumlocutory, sad and mysteri-
ous.
"Little Fairy was so pleased with his visit to Redman's
Farm to-day. He told me all about it; did not you, lit-
tle man? But still you love poor old mamma best of
all; you would not like to have a new mamma. Ah, no;
you'd rather have your poor old, ugly Mussie. I wish I
was handsome, my little man, and clever; but wishing is
vain.
"Ah! Willie, there was a time when you could not
see how ugly and dull your poor foolish little wife was;
but it could not last for ever. How did it happen — oh,
how ? — you such a scholar, so clever, so handsome, my
beautiful Willie — how did you ever look down on poor
wretched me?"
"I think it will be fine, Willie, and Miss Lake will
expect you at Redman's Farm; and little Fairy will go
too; yes, you:d like to go, and mamma will stay at home,
and try to be useful in her poor miserable way," and so
on.
The Vicar. thinking of other things, never seeing the
reproachful irony in all this, would take it quite literally,
assent sadly, and with little Fairy by the hand, set forth
for Redman's Farm; and the good little body, to the
amazement of her two maids, would be heard passionately
weeping in the parlor in her forsaken state.
At last there came a great upbraiding, a great 6cla.ir-
cissement, and laughter, and crying, and hugging; and
the poor little woman, quite relieved, went off immediately,
in her gratitude, to Rachel, and paid her quite an affec-
tionate little visit.


316 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
One night, after a long talk in the morning with good
William Wylder, and great dejection following, all on a
sudden, Rachel sat up in her bed, and in a pleasant voice,
and looking more like herself than she had for many
months, she said —
"I think I have found the true way out of my troubles;
Tamar. At every sacrifice to be quite honest; and to
that, Tamar, I have made up my mind at last, thank God.
Come, Tamar, and kiss me, for I am free once more."
So that night passed peacefully.
Rachel — a changed Rachel still — though more like
her early self, was now in the tiny garden of Redman's
Farm. The early spring was already showing its bright
green through the brown of winter, and sun and shower
alternating, and the gay gossipping of sweet birds among
the branches, were calling the young creation from its
slumbers. The air was so sharp, so clear so sunny, the
mysterious sense of coming life so invigorating, and the
sounds and aspect of nature so rejoicing, that Rachel with
her gauntlets on, her white basket of flower seeds, her
trowel, and all her garden implements beside her, felt her
own spring of life return, and rejoiced in the glad hour
that shone round her.
Lifting up her eyes, she saw Lord Chelford looking over
the little gate.
"What a charming day," said he, with his pleasant
smile, raising his hat, "and how very pleasant to see you
at your pretty industry again."
As Rachel came forward in her faded gardening cos-
tume, an old silk shawl about her shoulders, and hoodwise
over her head, somehow very becoming, there was a blush
— he could not help seeing it — on her young face, and
for a moment her fine eyes dropped, and she looked up,
smiling a more thoughtful, sadder smile than in old days.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 317
"I am afraid lam a very impertinent — at least a
very inquisitive — wayfarer; but I could not pass by
without a word, even at the risk of interrupting you.
And the truth is, I believe, if it had not been for that
chance of seeing and interrupting you, I should not have
passed through Redman's Dell to-day."
He laughed a little as he said this; and held her hands
some seconds longer than is strictly usual in such a greet-
ing.
"You are staying at Brandon?" said Rachel, not
knowing exactly what to say.
"Yes; Dorcas, who is always very good to me, made
me promise to come whenever I was at Drackley. I ar-
rived yesterday, and they tell me you stay so much at
home, that possibly you might not appear in the upper
world for two or three days; so I had not patience, you
see."
It was now Rachel's turn to laugh a musical little rou-
lade; but somehow her talk was neither so gay, nor so
voluble, as it used to be. She liked to listen; but there
was an unwonted difficulty in finding anything to say.
"It is quite true; I am more a stay-at-home than I
used to be. I believe we learn to prize home more the
longer we live."
"I don't wonder at your being a stay-at-home, for, to
my eyes, it is the prettiest spot of earth in all the world;
and if you find it half as hard to leave it as I do, your
staying here is quite accounted for."
Rachel understood this little speech quite well, though
she went on as if she did not.
"And this little garden costs. I assure you, a great
deal of wise thought. In sowing my annuals I have so
much to forecast and arrange; suitability of climate, for
we have sun and shade here, succession of bloom and con-
trast of color, and ever so many other important things."


318 WYLDER'S BAJVD.
"I can quite imagine it, though it did not strike me
before," be said, looking on her with a smile of pleasant
and peculiar interest, which somehow gave a reality to
this playful talk. "It is quite true; and I should not
have thought of it—it is very pretty," and he laughed
a gentle little laugh, glancing over the tiny garden.
"But after all, there is no picture of flowers, or still
life, or even of landscape, that will interest long. You
must be very solitary here at times — that is, you must
have a great deal more resource than I, or, indeed, almost
anyone I know, or this solitude must at times be oppres-
sive. I hope so, at least, for that would force you to ap-
pear among us sometimes."
"No, I am not lonely — that is, not lonelier than is
good for me. I have such a treasure of an old nurse —
poor old Tamar — who tells me stories, and reads to me,
and listens to my follies and temper, and sometimes says
very wise things, too; and the good Vicar comes often
— this is one of his days — with his beautiful little boy,
and talks so well, and answers my follies and explains nll
my perplexities, and is really a great help and comfort."
"Yes," said Lord Chelford, with the same pleasant
smile, "he told me so; and seems so pleased to have met
with so clever a pupil. Are you coming to Brandon this
* evening? Lake asked William Wylder, perhaps he will
be with us. I do hope you will come. Dorcas says
there is no use in writing; but that you know you are
always welcome. May I say you'll come?"
Rachel smiled sadly on the snow-drops at her feet, and
shook her head a little.
"No, I must stay at home this evening — I mean I
have not spirits to go to Brandon. Thank Dorcas very
much from me — thnt is, if you really, mean that she
asked me."


320 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
quite desperately, I think. I know there are things
against me — there are better-looking fellows than I —
and — and a great many things — and I know very well
that you will judge for yourself— quite differently from
other girls; and I can't say with what fear and hope I
await what you may say; but this you may be sure of,
you will never find anyone to love you better, Rachel —
I think so well — and — and now — that is all. Do you
think you could ever like me?"
Eut Rachel's hand, on a sudden, with a slight quiver,
was drawn from his.
"Lord Chelford, I can't describe how grateful I am,
and how astonished, but it could never be — no — nev-
er."
"Rachel, perhaps you mean my mother — I have told
her everything — she will receive you with all the respect
you so well deserve; and with all her faults, she loves
me, and will love you still more."
"No, Lord Chelford, no." She was pale now, and
looking very sadly in his eyes. "It is not that, but only
that you must never, never speak of it again."
"Oh! Rachel, darling, you must not say that— I love
you so — so desperately, you don't know."
"I can say nothing else, Lord Chelford. My mind
is quite made up — I am inexpressibly grateful — you will
never know how grateful — but except as a friend — and
won't you still be my friend ? — I never can regard you."
Rachel was so pale that her very lips were white as she
spoke this in a melancholy but very firm way.
"Oh, Rachel, it is a great blow — maybe if you thought
it over ! — I'll wait any time."
"No, Lord Chelford, I'm quite unworthy of your pre-
ference; but time cannot change me — and I am speak-
ing, not from impulse, but conviction. This is our secret


324 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
advance. So that thirty-two pounds, out of his bor-
rowed fifty, were forfeit for these items within a year and
a month. In the meantime the fifty pounds had gone, as
we know, direct to Cambridge; and he was called upon
to pay forthwith ten pounds for premium, and four pounds
ten shillings for " expenses." Quod impossibile.
The attorney had nothing for it but to try to induce
the lender to let him have another fifty pounds, pending
the investigation of title — another fifty, of which he was
to get, in fact, eighteen pounds. Somehow, the racking
off of this bitter vintage from one vessel into another did
not seem to improve its quality. On the contrary, things
were growing decidedly more awful.
Now, there came from Messrs. Burlington and Smith a
peremptory demand for the fourteen pounds ten shillings,
and an equally summary one for twenty-eight pounds four-
teen shillings and eight pence, their costs in this matter.
When the poor Vicar received this latter blow, he laid
the palm of his hand on the top of his head, as if to pre-
vent his brain from boiling over. Twenty-eight pounds
fourteen shillings and eight pence! Quod impossibile
again.
When he saw Larkin, that conscientious guardian of his
client's interests scrutinised the bill of costs very jealously,
and struck out between four'and five pounds. He'explain-
ed to the Vicar the folly of borrowing insignificant and
insufficient sums — the trouble, and consequently the cost,
of which were just as great as of an adequate one. He was
determined, if he could, to pull him through this. But
he must raise a sufficient sum, for the expense of going
into title would be something; and he would write sharply
to Burlington, Smith, and Co. and had no doubt the costs
would be settled for twenty-three pounds. And Mr. Jos
Larkin's opinion upon the matter was worthy of respect,


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 325
inasmuch as he was himself, under the rose, the " Co." of
that firm, and ministered its capital.
"The fact is you must, my dear Mr. Wylder, mate an
effort. It won't do peddling and tinkering in such a case.
You will be in a worse position than ever, unless you bold-
ly raise a thousand pounds — if I can manage such a
transaction upon a security of the kind. Consolidate all
your liabilities, and keep a sum in hand. You are well
connected — powerful relatives — your brother has Hux-
ton. four hundred a year, whenever present incumbent
goes — and there are other things beside — but you must
not allow yourself to be ruined through timidity; and if
you go to the wall without an effort, and allow yourself to
be slurred in public, what becomes of your chance of pre-
ferment?"
And now " title" went up to Burlington, Smith, and
Co. to examine and approve; and from that firm, a bill of
costs was coming, when deeds were prepared and all done,
exceeding three hundred and fifty pounds; and there was
a little reminder from good Jos Larkin for two hundred
and fifty pounds more. This, of course, was to await Mr.
Wylder's perfect convenience. The Vicar knew him —
he never pressed any man. Then there would be insur-
ances in proportion; and interest, as we see, was not tri-
fling. And altogether, I am afraid, our friend, the Vicar,
was being extricated in a rather embarrassing fashion.
Now, I have known cases in which good-natured deb-
auchees have interested themselves charitably in the diffi-
culties of forlorn families; and I think /knew, almost
before they suspected it, that their generous interference
was altogether due to one fine pair of eyes, and a pretty
toitrnure, in the distressed family circle. Under a like
half-delusion, Mr. Jos Larkin, in the guise of charity,
was prosecuting his designs upon the Vicar's reversion,


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 327
could be called vulgar in it. But this was a decidedly
villainous scrawl. There was nothing impressed on the
wafer, but a poke of something like the ferrule of a
stick.
The interior corresponded with the address, and the
lines slanted confoundedly. It was, however, on the
whole, better spelled and expressed than the penmanship
would have led one to expect. It said —
"MISTER LARKINS,— Respeckted sir, I write you, sir,
to let you know has how there is no more Chance you
shud ear of poor Mr. Mark Wylder — of hose orrible
Death I make bold to aquainte you by this writing —
which is Secret has yet from all — he bing Hid, and made
away with in the dark. It is only Right is family shud
know all, and is sad ending— wich I will tell before you,
sir, in full, accorden to my Best guess, as bin the family
Lawyer (and, sir, you will find it useful to Tell this in
secret to Capten Lake, of Brandon Hall — But not on
No account to any other). It is orrible, sir, to think a
young gentleman, with everything the world can give,
shud be made away with so crewel in the dark. Though
you do not rekelect me, sir, I know you well, Mr. Lar-
kins, haven seen you hoffen when a boy. I wud not wish,
sir. no noise made till I cum — which I am returning
hoame, and will then travel to Gylingden strateways to
see you. Sir, your obedient servant,
"JAMES BUTTON."
This epistle disturbed Mr. Jos Larkin profoundly. He
could recollect no such name as James Dutton. He did
not know whether to believe this letter or not. He could
not decide what present use to make of it, nor whether
to mention it to Captain Lake; nor if he did so, how it
was best to open the matter.


328 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
If this letter was true there was not a moment to be
lost in bringing the purchase of the Vicar's reversion to a
point. The possibilities were positively dazzling. They
were worth risking something.
Now, under the pressure of this enquiry, a thing struck
Mr. Larkin, strangely enough, which he had quite over-
looked before. There were certain phrases in the will of
the late Mr. Wylder which limited a large portion of the
great estate in strict settlement. Of course an attorney's
opinion upon a question of real property is not conclusive.
Still they can't help knowing something of the barrister's
special province; and these words were very distinct —
in fact, they stunted down the Vicar's reversion in the
greater part of the property to a strict life estate.
Long did the attorney pore over his copy of the will,
with his finger and thumb closed on his under lip. The
language was quite explicit — there was no way out of
it. It was strictly a life estate. How could he have
overlooked that? Ilis boy, indeed, would take an estate
tail — and could disentail whenever — if ever — he came
of age. But that was in the clouds. Mackleston-on-the
Moor, however, and the Great Barnford estate, were un-
affected by these limitations; and the rental which he
now carefully consulted, told him these jointly were in
round numbers worth 2,300/. a year, and improvable.
This letter of Button's, to be sure, may turn out to be
all a lie or a blunder. But it may prove to be strictly
true; and in that case it will be every thing that the
deed should be executed and the purchase completed be-
fore the arrival of this person, and the public notification
of Mark Wylder's death.
Another thought now struck him for the first time.
Was there no mode of "hedging," so that whether Mark
Wylder were living or dead the attorney should stand to
win?


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 329
Down came the Brandon boxes. The prudent attor-
ney turned the key in the door, and .forth came the vol-
uminous marriage settlement of Stanley Williams Lake,
of Slobberligh, in the county of Devon, late Captain, &c.
&c. of the first part, and Dorcas Adderley Brandon, of
Brandon Hall, in the county of &c. &c. of the second part,
and so forth. And as he read this pleasant composition
through, he two or three times murmured approvingly,
"Yes — yes — yes." His recollection had served him
quite rightly. There was the Five Oaks estate, special-
ly excluded from settlement, worth 1,400/. a year; but
it was conditioned that the said Stanley Williams Lake
was not to deal with the said lands, except with the con-
sent in writing of the said Dorcas, &c. who was to be a
consenting party to the deed.
If there was really something " unsound in the state
of Lake's relations," and that he could be got to consider
Lawyer Larkin as a friend worth keeping, that estate
might be had a bargain —yes, a great bargain.
Larkin walked off to Brandon, but there he learned
that Captain Brandon Lake, as he now chose to call him-
self, had gone that morning to London.
"Business, I venture to say, and he went into that
electioneering without ever mentioning it either."
That night he posted a note to Burlington, Smith, and
Co. and by Saturday night's post there came down to the
sheriff an execution for 123Z. and some odd shillings, upon
a judgment on a warrant to confess, at the suit of that
firm, for costs and money advanced, against the poor Vi-
car, who never dreamed, as he conned over bis next day's
sermon with his solitary candle, that the blow had virtually
descended, and that his homely furniture, together with
his own thin person, had passed into the hands of Messrs.
Burlington, Smith, and Co.


830 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
The Vicar on his way to the chapel passed Mr. Jos
Larkin on the green — not near enough to speak — only
to smile and wave his hand kindly, and look after the good
attorney with one of those yearning, grateful looks, which'
cling to straws upon the drowning stream of life.
The sweet chapel bell was just ceasing to toll as Mr.
Jos Larkin stalked under the antique ribbed arches of the
little isle. Slim and tall, he glided, a chastened dignity
in his long upturned countenance, and a faint halo of
saint-hood round his tall bald head. Having whispered
his orisons into his well-brushed hat, and taken his seat,
his dove-like eyes rested for a moment upon the Brandon
seat.
There was but one figure in it — slender, light-haired,
with his yellow moustache and pale face, grown of late a
little fatter. Captain Brandon Lake was a very punctual
church-goer since the idea of trying the county at the next
election had entered his mind. Dorcas was not very well.
Lord Chelford had taken his departure. There was no guest
just then at Brandon, and the Captain sat alone on that
devotional dais, the elevated floor of the great oaken Bran-
,don seat.
When the service was over Stanley Lake walked up the
little isle toward the communion table, thinking, and took
hold of the railing that surrounded the brass monument
of Sir William de Braundon, and seemed to gaze intently
on the effigy, but was really thinking profoundly of other
matters, and once or twice his sly sidelong glance stole
ominously to Jos Larkin, who was talking at the church
door with the good Vicar.
In fact, he was then and there fully apprising him of
his awful situation; and poor William Wylder looking
straight at him, with white face and damp forehead, was
listening, stunned, and hardly understanding a word he


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 331
said, and only the dreadful questions rising to his mouth,
"Can anything be done! Will the people come to-
day?"
Mr. Larkin explained the constitutional respect for the
Sabbath.
"It would be better, sir — the publicity of an arrest"
(it was a hard word to utter) "in the town would be very
painful — it would be better, I think, that I should walk
over to the prison — it is only six miles — and seethe
authorities there, and give myself up."
And his lip quivered; he was thinking of the leave-
taking — of poor Dolly and little Fairy.
"I've a great objection to speak of business to-day,"
said Mr. Larkin, holily; "but I may mention that Bur-
lington and Smith have written very sternly; and the
fact is, my dear sir, we must look the thing straight in the
face; they are determined to go through with it; and you
know my opinion all along about the infatuation of hesi-
tating about the sale of that miserable reversion, which
they could have, disposed of on fair terms. In fact, sir,
they look upon it that you don't wau't to pay them, and,
of course, they are very angry."
"I'm sure I was wrong. I'm such a fool!"
"I must only go to the Sheriff the first thing in the
morning, and beg of him to hold over that thing, you
know, until I have heard from Burlington and Smith;
and I suppose I may say to them that you see the neces-
sity of disposing of the reversion, and agree to sell it if it
be not too late."
The Vicar assented; indeed, he had grown, under this-
urgent pressure, as nervously anxious to sell as he had
been to retain it."
"I'll be very happy to see you to-morrow, if you can
conveniently look in — say at twelve, or half-past, to re-
port progress."


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 333
low and sweet, and easily mistaken for something more
amiable. "You and they go capitally together — so sol-
emn, and eloquent, and godly — capital fellows! 7'm not
half good enough for such company — and the place is
growing rather cold — is it not?"
"A great many Wylders, sir — a great many Wyl-
ders." And the attorney dropped his voice, and paused
at this emphasis, pointing a long finger toward the sur-
rounding effigies.
Captain Lake, after his custom, glared a single full
look upon the attorney, sudden as the flash of a pair of
guns from their embrasures in the dark; and he said qui-
etly, with a wave of his cane in the same direction —
"Yes, a precious lot of Wylders."
"Is there a Wylder vault here, Captain Brandon
Lake?"
"Hanged if I know! — what the devil's that to you or
me. sir?" answered the Captain, with a peevish sullen-
ness.
"I was thinking, Captain Lake, whether in the event
of its turning out that Mr. Mark Wylder was dead, it
would be thought proper to lay his body here?"
"Dead, sir ! — and what the plague puts that in your
head? You are corresponding with him — arn't you?"
"I'll tell you exactly how that is, Captain Lake.
May I take the liberty to ask you for one moment to look
up."
As between these two gentlemen, this, it must be al-
lowed, was an impertinent request. But Captain Lake
did look up, and there was something extraordinarily un-
pleasant in his yellow eyes, as he fixed them upon the
contracted pupils of the attorney, who, nothing daunted,
wont on —
"Pray, excuse me — thank you, Captain Lake — they


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 335
not corresponded. I know — upon my honor and soul,
sir — nothing on earth about him — what he's doing,
where he is, or what's become of him. But I can't hear
a man of business like you assert, upon what he con-
ceives to be reliable information, that Mark Wylder is no
more, without being a good deal shocked."
"I quite understand, sir — quite, Captain Lake. It is
very serious, sir, very; but I can't believe it has gone
that length, quite. I shall know more, of course, when
I've seen James Button. I can't think, I mean, he's been
made away with in that sense; nor how that could benefit
anyone; and I'd much rather, Captain Lake, move in this
matter — since move I must — in your interest — I mean,
as your friend and man of business — than in any way,
Captain Lake, that might possibly involve you in trou-
ble."
"You are my man of business —aren't you? and have
no grounds for ill-will —eh?" said the Captain, drily.
"No ill-will, certainly — quite the reverse. Thank
Heaven, I think I may truly say, I bear ill-will to no man
living; and wish you, Captain Lake, nothing but good,
sir — nothing but good."
"Except a hasty word or two, I know no reason you
should not" said the Captain, in the same tone.
"Quite so. But, Captain Brandon Lake, there is
nothing like being completely above-board—it has been
my rule through life; and I will say — that I have of
late been anything but satisfied with the position which,
ostensibly your professional adviser and confidential man
of business, I have occupied. Has there been any real
confidence, Captain Lake, upon your part? You have
certainly had relations with Mr. Mark Wylder — corres-
pondence, for anything I know. You have entertained
the project of purchasing the Reverend William Wylder'a


336 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
reversion; and you have- gone into electioneering busi-
ness, and formed connections of that sort, without once
doing mo the honor to confer with me on the subject.
Now, the plain question is, do you wish to retain my
services?"
"Certainly," said Captain Lake, biting his lip, with a
sinister little frown.
"Then, Captain Lake, you must dismiss at once from
your mind the idea that you can do so upon the terms you
have of late seen fit to impose. I am speaking frankly
when I say there must be a total change. I must be in
reality what I am held out to the world as being — your
trusted, and responsible, and sole adviser. I don't aspire
to the position — I am willing at this moment to retire
from it; but I never yet knew a divided direction come to
good. It is an office of great responsibility, and I for one
will not consent to touch it on any other conditions than
those I have taken the liberty to mention.
"These are easily complied with — in fact I undertake
to show you they have never been disturbed," answered
Lake, rather sullenly. "So that being understood — eh?
— I suppose we have nothing particular to add?"
And Captain Lake extended his gloved hand to take
leave.
But the attorney looked down and then up, with a sha-
dow on his face, and his lip in his finger and thumb,
and he said —
"That's all very well, and a sine qua non, so far as it
goes; but, my dear Captain Lake, let us be plain. You
must see, my dear sir, with such rumors, possibly about
to get afloat, and such persons about to appear, as this
James Button, that matters are really growing critical, and
there's no lack of able solicitors who would, on speculation,
undertake a suit upon less evidence, perhaps, than may be


338 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Sell Five Oaks — that's fourteen hundred a year,"
said he.
"Hardly so much, but nearly, perhaps."
"Forty-three thousand pounds were offered for it. Old
Chudworth offered that about ten years ago."
"Of course, Captain Lake, if you are looking for a
fancy price from me I must abandon the idea. I was
merely supposing a dealing between friends, and in that
sense I ventured to name the extreme limit to which I
could go. Little more than five per cent, for my money,
if I insure — and possibly to defend an action before I've
been six months in possession. I think my offer will
strike you as a great one, considering the posture of
affairs. Indeed, I apprehend, my friends will hardly think
me justified in offering so much."
The ice once broken, Jos Larkin urged his point with
all sorts of arguments, always placing the proposed trans-
action in the most plausible lights and attitudes, and
handling his subject in round and flowing sentences. This
master of persuasion was not aware that Captain Lake
was arguing the question for himself, on totally different
grounds, and that it was fixed in his mind pretty much in
those terms:—
"That old villain wants an exorbitant bribe — is he
worth it?"
He knew what the lawyer thought he did not know —
that Five Oaks was held by the lawyers to be possibly
without those unfortunate limitations which affected all
the rest of the estate. It was only a moot-point; but the
doubt had led Mr. Jos Larkin to the selection
"I'll look in upon you between eight and nine in the
morning, and I'll say yes or no then," said the Captain,
as they parted under the old stone porch, the attorney
with a graceful inclination, a sad smile, and a wave of


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 339
his hand — the Captain with his hands in the pockets of
his loose coat, and a sidelong glance from his yellow eyes.
CHAPTER LV.
THE BRANDON CONSERVATORY.
CAPTAIN LAKE did look in at the todge in the morn-
ing, and remained an hour in conference with Mr. Jos
Larkin. I suppose everything went off pleasantly. For
although Stanley Lake looked very pale and vicious as he
walked down to the iron gate of the Lodge, the good at-
torney's countenance shone with a serene and heavenly
light, so pure and bright, indeed, that I almost wonder
his dazzled servants, sitting along the wall while he read
and expounded that morning, did not respectfully petition
that a veil might be suspended over the seraphic efful-
gence.
Somehow his " Times " did not interest him at breakfast;
these parliamentary wrangles, commercial speculations, and
foreign disputes, are they not, after all, but melancholy
and dreary records of the merest .worldliness? Jos Lar-
kin tossed the paper upon the sofa. French politics,
relations with Russia, commercial treaties, party combina-
tions, how men can so wrap themselves up in these things!
And he smiled ineffable pity over the crumpled newspaper
— on the poor souls in that sort of worldly limbo. In
which frame of mind he took from his coat pocket a copy
of Captain Lake's marriage settlement, and read over
again a covenant on the Captain's part that, with respect
to this particular estate of Five Oaks, he would do no act,


340 WYLDER'S H.iJVD.
and execute no agreement, deed, or other instrument what-
soever, in any wise affecting the same, without the consent
in writing of the said Dorcas Brandon; and a second cov-
enant binding him and the trustees of the settlement against
executing any deed, &c. without a similar consent; and
specially directing, that in the event of alienating the
estate, the said Dorcas must be made an assenting party to
the deed.
He folded the deed, and replaced it in his pocket with
a peaceful smile and closed eyes, murmuring —
"I'm much mistaken if the grey mare's the better
horse in that stud."
He laughed gently, thinking of the Captain's formida-
ble and unscrupulous nature, exhibitions of which he
could not fail to remember.
"No, no, Miss Dorkie won't give us much trouble."
He used to call her "Miss Dorkie," playfully, to his
clerks. It gave him consideration, he fancied. And now
with this Five Oaks to begin with — 1,400/. a year —a
great capability, immensely improvable, he would stake
half he's worth on making it more than 2,000/. within
five years; and with other things at his back, an able man
like him might before long look as high as she. And
visions of the grand jury rose dim and splendid — an
heiress, and a seat for the county; perhaps he and Lake
might go in together, though he'd rather be associated
with the Hon. James Cluttworth, or young Lord Griddle-
stone. Lake, you see, wanted weight, and, notwithstand-
ing his connections, was a new man in the county.
Jos Larkin had also the Vicar's business and reversion
to attend to. The Rev. William Wylder had a letter
containing three lines from him at eight o'clock, to which
he sent an answer; whereupon the solicitor despatched a
special messenger to Dollington, with a letter to the


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 341
sheriff's deputy, from whom he received duly a reply,
which necessitated a second letter with a formal undertak-
ing, to which came another reply; whereupon he wrote to
Burlington, Smith, and Co. acquainting them respectfully,
in diplomatic fashion, with the attitude which affairs had
assumed.
With this went a private and confidential, non-official,
note to Smith, desiring him to answer stiffly and press for
an- immediate settlement, and to charge costs fairly, as
Mr. William Wylder would have ample funds to liquidate
them. Smith knew what fairly meant, and his entries
went down accordingly. By the same post went up to
the same firm a proposition — an after thought — sanc-
tioned by a second miniature correspondence with his cli-
ent, to guarantee them against loss consequent against
staying the execution in the sheriff's hands for a fortnight,
which, if they agreed" to, they were further requested to
send a draft of the proposed undertaking by return, at
foot of which, in pencil, he wrote, "N. B. — Yes."
This arrangement necessitated his providing himself
with a guarantee from the Vicar; and so the little account
as between the Vicar and Jos Larkin, solicitor, and the
Vicar and Messrs. Burlington, Smith, and Co. solicitors,
grew up and expanded with a tropical luxuriance.
About the same time — while Mr. Jos Larkin, I mean,
was thinking over Miss Dorkie's share in the deed, with a
complacent sort of interest, anticipating a struggle, but
sure of victory — that beautiful young lady was walking
slowly from flower to flower, in the splendid conservatory
which projects southward from the house. The unspeak-
able sadness of wounded pride was on her beautiful fea-
tures, and there was a fondness in the gesture with which
she laid her fingers on these exotics and stooped over
them, which gave to her solitude a sentiment of the pa-
thetic.


842 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
From the high glass doorway, communicating with the
drawing-rooms, at the far end, over the encaustic tiles, and
through this atmosphere of perfume, did Captain Stanley
Lake, in his shooting coat, glide, smiling, towards his beau-
tiful young wife.
She heard the door close, and looking half over her
shoulder in a low tone indicating surprise, she merely
said:
"Oh!" receiving him with a proud, sad look.
"Yes, Dorkie, I'm here at last. I've been for some
weeks so insufferably busy," and he laid his white hand
lightly over his eyes, as if they and the brain within were
alike weary. "How charming this place is — the temple
of Flora, and you the divinity;"
And he kissed her cheek.
"I'm now emancipated for, I hope, a week or two. I've
Ween shut up so in the library, and keeping such tiresome
company — you've no idea; but I think you'll say it was
time well spent, at least I'm sure you'll approve the re-
sult; and now that I have collected the facts, and can
show you, darling, exactly what the chances are, you must
consent to hear the long story, and when you have heard,
give mo your advice."
Dorcas smiled, and only plucked a. little flowery ten-
dril from a plant that hung in a natural festoon above
her.
"I assure you, darling, I am serious; you must not
look so incredulous; and it is the more provoking, because
I love you so. I think I have a right to your advice,
Dorkie."
"Why don't you ask Rachel, she's cleverer than I. and
you are more in the habit of consulting her?"
"Now Dorkie is going to talk her wicked nonsense
over again, as if I had never answered it. What about


WYLDER'S HJJVD. 345
when family and property go together, may accomplish.
There are the Dodminsters. Do you think they would
ever have got their title by any other means? There
are the Forresters " —
"I know it all, Stanley; and at once I say, go on. I
thought you must have formed some political project,
Mr. Wealdon has been with- you so often; but you tell
me nothing, Stanley."
"Not, darling, till I know it myself. This plan, for
instance, until you spoke this moment, was but a ques-
tion, and one which I could not submit until I had seen
Wealdon, and heard how matters stood, and what chances
of success I should really have. So, darling, you have it
all; and I am so glad you advise me to go on. It is
five-and-thirty years since anyone connected with Bran-
don came forward. But it will cost a great deal of money,
Dorkie."
"Yes, I know. I've always heard it cost my uncle
and Sir William Camden fifteen thousand pounds."
"Yes, it will be expensive, Wealdon thinks—very,
this time. It often struck me as a great mistake, that,
where there is a good income, and a position to be main-
tained, there is not a little put by every year to meet
cases like this."
"I do not think there is much money. You know,
Stanley."
"Whatever there is, is under settlement, and we can-
not apply it, Dorkie. The only thing to be done, it
strikes me, is to sell a part of Five Oaks."
"I'll not sell any property, Stanley."
"And what do you propose, then?"
"I don't know. I don't understand these things. But
there are ways of getting money by mortgages and loans,
and paying them off without losing the property."


346 . WYLDER'S HAJW).
'' I've the greatest possible objection to raising money
in that way. It is in fact the first step towards ruin;
and nobody has ever done it who has not regretted that he
did not sell instead."
"I won't sell Five Oaks, Stanley," said the young lady,
seriously.
"I only said a part," replied Stanley.
"I tell you, Stanley, plainly, I will not sell at all.
The Brandon estate shall not be diminished in my time."
"Why, don't you perceive you impair the estate as
much by mortgaging as by selling, with ten times the ul-
timate danger. -I tell you /won't mortgage, and you
shall sell."'
"Stanley, I tell you plainly once more, I never will
consent to sell one acre of the Brandon estates."
"Then we'll see what I can do without you, Dorkie,"
he said, in a pleasant, musing way.
He was now looking down, with his sly, malign smile;
and Dorcas could almost fancy two yellow lights reflected
upon the floor.
"I shall protect the property of my family, sir, from
your folly or your machinations; and I shall write to
Chelford, as my trustee, to come here to advise me."
"And I snap my fingers at you both, and meet you
with defiance ;" and Stanley's singular eyes glared upon
her for a few seconds."
Dorcas turned in her grand way, and walked slowly to-
wards the door.
"Stay a moment, I'm going," said Stanley, overtaking
and confronting her near the door. "I've only one word.
I don't think you quite know me. It will be an evil day
for you, Dorkie, when you quarrel with me."
He looked steadily on her, smiling for a-second or two
more, and then glided from the conservatory.


CHAPTER LVI.
CONCERNING A NEW DANGER WHICH THREATENED CAP-
TAIN STANLEY LAKE.
THE ambitious Captain walked out, sniffling, white,
and incensed. There was an air of immovable resolution
in the few words which Dorcas had spoken which rather
took him by surprise. The Captain was a terrorist. He
acted instinctively on the theory that any good that was
to be got from human beings was to be extracted from
their fears. He had so operated on Mark Wylder; and
so sought to coerce his sister Rachel. He had hopes, too,
of ultimately catching the good attorney napping, although
he was himself just now in jeopardy from that quarter.
James Dutton, too. Sooner or later he would get Master
Jim into a. fix, and hold him also spell-bound in the same
sort of nightmare.
But Stanley Lake's plans were frustrated occasionally
by his temper, which, I am afraid, with all its external
varnish, was of the sort which is styled diabolical. Peo-
ple said also, what is true of most terrorists, that he was
himself quite capable of being frightened; and also, that
he lied with too fertile an audacity: and, like a man with
too many bills afloat, forgot his endorsements occasionally,
and did not recognise his own acceptances when presented
after an interval. Such were some of this dangerous fel-
low's weak points. But, on the whole, it was by no
means a safe thing to cross his path.
He pursued his way with a vague feeling of danger and
rage, having encountered an opposition of so much more


350 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Heavea knows, when I consented to that journey. I did
not comprehend its full purpose, though I knew enough
to have warned me of my danger, and undertook it in
great fear and anguish of mind. Oh! Stanley, you do
not know what it is to feel, as I do, the shame and treach-
ery of my situation; to try to answer the smiles of those
who, at least, once loved me, and to take their hands; to
kiss Dorcas and good Dolly; and feel that all the time I
am a vile imposter, from whom, if they knew me, they
would turn in horror and disgust. Now, Stanley, I can
bear any thing but this basaness— any thing but the life
long practice of perfidy — that, I will not and cannot en-
dure. Dorcas must know the whole truth. That there
is a secret jealously guarded from her she does know —
no woman could fail to perceive that; and there are
few, Stanley, who would not prefer the certainty of
the worst, to the anguish of such relations of mystery and
reserve with a husband. She is clever, she is generous,
and has many noble qualities. She will see what is right,
and do it. Mo she may hate, and must despise; but that
were to me more endurable than friendship gained on
false pretences. I repeat, therefore, Stanley, that Dorcas
must know the whole truth. Do not suppose, my poor
brother, that I write from impulse — I have deeply
thought on the subject."
"Deeply," repeated Stanley, with a sneer.
"And the more I reflect, the more am I convinced —
if you will not tell her, Stanley, that/ must. But it will
be wiser, and better, terrible as it may be, that the reve-
lation should come from you, whom she has made her hus-
band. Be courageous then, Stanley; you will be happier
when you have disclosed the truth, and released at all
events, one of your victims.
"Your sorrowful and only sister,
"RACHEL."


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 35}
On finishing the letter, Stanley rose quickly to his feet.
His excitement was too intense for foul terms, or even
blasphemy. With the edge of his nether lip nipped in
his teeth, and his clenched hands in his pockets, he walked
through the forest trees to the park, and in its solitudes
hurried onward as if his life depended on his speed. Grad-
ually he recovered his self-possession. He sat down un-
der the shade of a knot of beech trees, overlooking that
ill-omened tarn, which we have often mentioned, upon a
linchen-stained rock, his chin resting on his clenched hand»
his elbow on his knee, and .the heel of his other foot
stamping out bits of the short, green sod.
"That d—d girl deserves to be shot for her treachery,"
was the first sentence that broke from his white lips.
The Captain's plans were not working by any means so
smoothly as he had expected. That sudden stab from Jos
Larkin, whom he always despised, and now hated — whom
he believed to, be a fifth-rate, pluckless rogue, without
audacity, without invention; whom he was on the point of
tripping up, that he should have turned short and garotted
the gallant Captain, was a provoking turn of fortune.
That when a dire necessity subjugated his will, his con-
tempt, his rage, and he inwardly decided that the attor-
ney's extortion must be submitted to, his wife — whom he.
never made any account of in the transaction, whom he
reckoned carelessly on turning about as he pleased, by a
few compliments and cajoleries — should have started up,
cold and inflexible as marble, in his path, to forbid the
payment of the black mail, and expose him to the unascer-
tained and formidable consequences of Button's story, and
the disappointed attorney's vengeance — was another
stroke of luck which took him altogether by suprise.
And to crown all, Miss Radie had grown tired of keep-
ing her own secret, and must needs bring to light the


352 'WYLDER'S HAJVD.
buried disgraces which all concerned were equally interest-
ed in hiding away for ever.
From Rachel to Dorcas, from Dorcas to the attorney,
and from him to Dutton, and back again, he rambled in
the infernal litany he muttered over the inauspicious tarn,
among the enclosing banks and undulations, and solitary
and lonely woods.
"Lake Avernus," said a hollow voice behind him, and
a long grisly hand was laid on his shoulder.
A cold breath of horror crept from his brain to his
heels, as he turned about and saw the large, blanched
.features and glassy eyes of Uncle Lome bent over him.
"Oh, Lake Avernus is it?" said Lake, with an angry
sneer, and raising his hat with a mock reverence.
"Aye! it is the window of hell, and the spirits in
prison come up to see the light of it. Did you see him
looking up?" said Uncle Lome, with his pallid smile.
"Oh! of course — Napoleon Bonaparte leaning on old
Dr. Simcock's arm," answered Lake.
It was odd, in the sort of ghastly banter in which
he played off this old man, how much hatred was percep-
tible.
"No —not he. It is Mark Wylder," said Uncle
Lome; "his face comes up like a white fish within a
fathom of the top — it makes me laugh. That's the way
they keep holiday. Can you tell by the sky when it is
holiday in hell? /can."
And he laughed, and rubbed his long fingers together
softly.
"Look how his nostrils go like a fish's gills. It is a
funny way for a gentleman, and he's a gentleman. Every
fool knows the Wylders are gentlemen — all gentlemen in
misfortune. He has a brother that is walking about in
his coffin. Mark has no cofiin; it is all marble steps;


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 353
and a wicked seraph received him, and blessed him, till his
hair stood up. Let me whisper you."
"No, not just at this moment, please," said Lake,
drawing away, disgusted, from the maniacal leer and tit-
ter of the gigantic old man.
"Aye, aye — another time — some night there's au-
rora borealis in the sky. You know this goes under
ground all the way to Vallambrosa?"
"Thank you; I was not aware; that's very conve-
nient. Had you not better go down to speak to your friend
in the water?"
"Young man, I bless you for remembering," said Un-
cle Lome, solemnly. Don't move, till I go down; he's
as easily frightened as a fish."
Uncle Lome crept down the bank, tacking, and dodging,
and all the time laughing softly to himself; and some-
times winking with a horrid, wily grimace at Stanley, who
fervently wished him at the bottom of the tarn.
"I say," said Stanley, addressing the keeper, whom by
a beck he had brought to his side, "you don't allow him,
surely, to go alone now?"
"No, sir — since your order, sir," said the stern, re-
served official.
"Nor to come into any place but this — the park, I
mean?"
"No, sir."
"And do you mind, try and get him home always be-
fore nightfall. It is easy to frighten him. Find out what
frightens him, and do it or say it. It is dangerous, don't
you see? and he might break his d—d neck any time
among those rocks and gullies, or get away altogether
from you in the dark."
So the keeper, at the water's brink, joined Uncle
Lome, who was talking, after his fashion, into the dark


354 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
pool. And Stanley Lake — a general in difficulties —
retraced his steps toward the park gate through which he
had come, ruminating on his situation and resources.
CHAPTER LXii.
MISS RACHEL LAKE BECOMES VIOLENT.
So soon as the letter which had so surprised and in-
censed Stanley Lake was despatched, and beyond recall,
Rachel, who had been indescribably agitated before, grew
all at once calm. Shq was glad the die was cast, and that
it was out of her power to retract.
She kneeled at her bedside, and wept and prayed, and
then went down and talked with old Tamar, who was knit-
ting in the shade by the porch.
Then the young lady put on her bonnet and cloak and
walked down to Gylingden, with an anxious, but still a
lighter heart to see her friend, Dolly Wylder.
Dolly received her in a glad sort of fuss.
"I'm so glad to see you, Miss Lake."
"Call me Rachel: and won't you let me call you Dol-
ly?"
"Well, Rachel, dear," replied Dolly, laughing, "I'm
delighted you're come; I have such good news — but I
can't tell it till I think for a minute — I must begin at
the beginning."
"Anywhere, everywhere, only if it is good news, let
me hear it at once. I'll be sure to understand."
"Well, miss — I mean Rachel, dear — you know — I
may tell you now — we've been in great trouble " — and


WYLDER'S HAJV&. 355
she dried her eyes quickly — " money, my dear " — and
she smiled with a bewildered shrug — " some debts at
Cambridge — no fault of his — but these were a few old
things that mounted up with interest, my dear — you un-
derstand — and law costs — and indeed, dear miss — well,
Rachel — I forgot—I sometimes thought we must be
quite ruined."
"Oh, Dolly, dear," said Rachel, very pale, "I feared
it. I thought you might be troubled about money, and,
to say truth, it was partly to try your friendship with a
question on that very point that I came here, and in the
hope that maybe you might allow me to be of some use."
"How wonderfully good you are! How friends are
raised up!" and with a smile that shone like an April
sun through her tears, she stood on tiptoe, and kissed the
tall young lady.
"You know, dear, before he went, Mark promised to
lend dear Willie a large sum of money. Well he went
away in such a hurry, that he never thought of it; and
he keeps, you know, wandering about on the Continent,
and never gives his address; so he can't, you see, be writ-
ten to; and the. delay — but, Rachel, darling, are you
ill?"
She rang the bell, and opened the window, and got
some water.
"My darling, you walked too fast here. You were
very near fainting."
"No, dear — nothing — I am quite well now — go on."
But she did not go on immediately, for Rachel was
trembling in a kind of shivering fit, which did not pass
away till after poor Dolly, who had no other stimulant at
command, made her drink a cup of very hot milk.
Nearly ten minutes passed before the talk was renewed.
"Well, now, what do you think — that good man, Mr.


356 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Larkin, just as things were at the worst, found a way to
make everything quite right again — and we'll be so hap-
py. Like a bird I could sing, and fly almost — a foolish
old thing — ha! ha! ha ! — such an old goose!" and
she wiped her eyes again.
"Hush! is that Fairy? Oh, no, it is only Anne
singing. Little man has not been well yesterday and to-
day. He won't eat, and looks pale, but he slept very
well, my darling man; and Doctor Buddle kindly took
him into his room, and examined him, and says it may
be nothing at all, please Heaven," and she sighed, smil-
ing still.'
"No headache or fever ?" asked Miss Lake cheerfully,
though, she knew not why, there seemed something om-
inous in this little ailment.
"None at all; oh, none, thank you; none in the
world.
"Please Heaven, he'll be quite well to-morrow —the
darling little man," said Rachel.
"Here's Mr. Larkin !" cried Dolly, jumping up, and
smiling and nodding at the window to that long and natty
apparition, who glided to the hall-door with a sad smile,
raising his well-brushed hat as he passed.
He was followed by a young and bilious clerk, with
black hair and a melancholy countenance, and by old
Buggs — his conducting man — always grinning, whose
red face glared in the little garden like a great bunch of
hollyhocks.
"There is that awful Mr. Buggs," said Dolly, with a
look of honest alarm. "I often wonder so Christian a
man as Mr. Larkin can countenance him. He is hardly
ever without a black eye. He has been three nights
together without once putting off his clothes — think of
that?"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 35J
"They have come about law business, Dolly?" en-
quired the young lady, who had a profound, instinctive
dread of Mr. Larkin.
"Yes, my dear; a most important windfall. Only for
Mr. Larkin, it never could have been accomplished, and,
indeed, I don't think it would ever have been thought
of." -
"I hope he has some one to advise him," said Miss
Lake, anxiously. "I— I-think Mr. Larkin a very cun-
ning person; and you know your husband does not under-
stand business."
"But, my dear, he is an excellent man, and such a
friend, and he has managed all this most troublesome
business so delightfully. It is what they call a rever-
sion."
"William Wyldcr is not selling his reversion?" said
Rachel, fixing a wild and startled look on her companion.
"Yes, reversion, I am sure, is the name. And why
not, dear? It is most unlikely we should ever get a
farthing of it any other way, and it will give us enough
to make us quite happy."
"But, my darling, don't you know the reversion under
the will is a great fortune. He must not think of it;"
and up started Rachel, and before Dolly could interpose
or remonstrate, she had crossed the little hall, and entered
the homely study, where the gentlemen were conferring.
William Wylder was sitting at his desk, and a large
sheet of law schivenery, on thick paper, with a stamp in
the corner, was before him. The bald head of the attor-
ney, as he leaned over him, and indicated an imaginary
line with his gold pencil-case, was presented toward Miss
Lake as she entered.
The attorney had just said " there, please," in reply to
the Vicar's question, " Where do I write my name?" and


358 WYLDER'S H.1JV7J.
red Buggs, and the sad and bilious young gentleman, stood
by to witness the execution of the cleric's autograph.
"William Wylder, I am so glad I'm in time," said
Rachel, rustling across the room.
"There" said the attorney, very peremptorily, and
making a little furrow in the thick paper with the seal end
of his pencil.
"Stop, William Wylder, don't sign; I've a word to
say — you must pause."
"If it affects our business, Miss Lake, I do request
that you address yourself to me; if not, may I beg. Miss
Lake, that you will defer it for a moment."
"William Wylder, lay down that pen; as you love
your little boy, lay it down, and hear me," continued Miss
Lake.
The Vicar looked at her with his eyes wide open, puz-
zled, like a man who is not quite sure whether he may not
be doing something wrong.
"I — really, Miss Lake — pardon me, but this is
very irregular, and, in fact, unprecedented!" said Jos
Larkin. "I think — I suppose, you can hardly be
aware, ma'am, that I am here as the Rev. Mr. Wylder's
confidential solicitor, acting solely for him, in a matter of
a strictly private nature."
The attorney stood erect, a little flushed, with that pe-
culiar contraction, mean and dangerous, in his eyes.
"Now, William Wylder, you shan't sign until you
tell me whether this is a sale of your reversion."
The young lady had her white hand firmly pressed upon
the spot where he was to sign, and the ring that glittered on
her finger looked like a talisman interposing between the
poor Vicar and the momentous act he was meditating.
"I think, Miss Lake, it is pretty plain you are not act-
ing for yourself here — you have been sent, ma'am,"


360 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
you would get nothing like what you have agreed to
to take; and I must say, once for all, sir, that — your
letters amount to an equitable agreement to sell, which,
on petition, the court would compel you to do."
"So you see, my dear Miss Lake, there is no more to
be said," said the Vicar, with a careworn smile, looking
upon Rachel's handsome face.
"Eleven minutes past three," said Mr. Larkin, " and
I've a meeting at my house at half-past: so, unless you
complete that instrument now, I regret to say I must take
it back unfinished, and if the consequences should prove
serious, I, at least, am not to blame."
"Don't sign, I entreat, I implore of you. William
Wylder, you shan't."
"But, my dear Miss Lake, we have considered every-
thing, and Mr. Larkin and I agree that my circumstances
are such as to make it inevitable."
"Really, this is child's play; there, if you please,"
said the attorney, once more.
Rachel Lake, during the discussion, had removed her
hand. The faintly-traced line on which the Vicar was to
sign was now fairly presented to him.
"Just in your usual way," murmured Mr. Larkin.
So the Vicar's pen was applied, but before he had time
to trace the first letter of his name, Rachel Lake resolutely
snatched the thick, bluish sheet of scrivenery, before him,
and tore it across and across, with the quickness of terror,
and in fewer seconds than one could fancy, it lay about
the floor and grate in pieces little bigger than dominoes.
The attorney made a hungry snatch at the paper, over
William Wylder's shoulder, nearly bearing that gentleman
down on his face, but his clutch fell short.
"Hallo! Miss Lake, ma'am — the paper!"
But wild words were of no avail. The whole party,


'WYLDER'S HJHVD. 3d
except Rachel, were aghast. The'attorney's small eye
glanced over the ground and hearthstone, where the bits
were strewn. He had nothing for it but to submit to for-
tune with his best air.
"You are not aware, Miss Lake of the nature of your
act, and of the consequences to which you have exposed
yourself, madam. Your interference, your violent inter-
ference, madam, may be attended with most serious con-
quences to my reverend client, for which, of course, you
constituted yourself fully responsible, when you entered
on the course of unauthorised interference, which has re-
sulted in destroying the articles of agreement, for his
protection; and retarding the transmission of the docu-
ment, by at least four-and-twenty hours, to London.
You may, madan, I regret to observe, have ruined my
client."
"Saved him, I hope."
"And run yourself, madam, into a very serious scrape."
"Upon that point you have said quite enough, sir.
Dolly, William, don't look so frightened; you'll both live
to thank me for this."
Mr. Wylder, I shall have the document prepared again
from the draft. You'll see to that, Mr. Buggs, please;
and perhaps it will be better that you should look in at
the Lodge."
When he mentioned the Lodge, it was in so lofty a way
that a stranger would have supposed it something very
handsome indeed, and one of the sights of the county.
''' Say, about nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Fare-
well, Mr. Wylder, farewell. I regret the enhanced ex-
pense — I regret the delay — I regret the risk — I re-
gret, in fact, the whole scene. Farewell, Mrs. Wylder."
And with a silent bow to Rachel — perfectly polished,
perfectly terrible — he withdrew.
13


362 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
'Oh, dear Miss Lake — Rachel, I mean — Rachel,
dear, I hope it won't be all off. Oh, you don't know —
Heaven only knows —the danger we are in."
Dolly spoke quite wildly, with her hands on Rachel's
shoulders. It was the first time she had broken down,
the first time, at least, the Vicar had seen her anything
but cheery, and his head sank, and it seemed as if his
last light had gone out, and he was quite benighted.
"Now, don't blame me," said Miss Lake, "and don't
be frightened till you have heard me. Let us sit down
here — we shan't be interrupted — and just answer your
wretched friend, Rachel, two or three questions, and hear
what she has to say."
So, in reply to her questions, the Vicar told her frank-
ly how he stood; and Rachel said—"Well, you must
not think of selling your reversion. Oh! think of your
little boy — think of Dolly — if you were taken away
from her."
"But," said Dolly, "Mr. Larkin heard from Captain
Lake that Mark is privately married, and actually has,
he says. a large family; and he, you know, has letters
from him, and Mr. Larkin thinks, knows more than any-
one else about him; and if that were so, none of us
would ever inherit the property. So " —
"Do they say that Mark is married? Nothing can
be more false. He neither is nor ever will be married.
If my brother dared say that in my presence, I would
make him confess, before you, that he knows it cannot be.
Oh! my poor little Fairy — my poor Dolly — my poor
good friend, William! What shall I say? I am in
great distraction of mind. Listen to me, good and kind
as you are. You are never to call me your friend, mind
that. I am a most unhappy creature, forced by circum-
stances to be your enemy, for a time — not always. You


WYLDER'S HAJVI3. 363
have no conception how, and may never even suspect
.
Don't ask me, but listen."
Wonder-stricken and pained was the countenance with
which the Vicar gazed upon her, and Dolly looked both
frightened and perplexed.
"1 have a little more than three hundred a-year.
There is a little annuity charged on Sir Hugh Landon's
estate, and his solicitor has written, offering me six hun-
dred pounds for it. I will write to-night accepting that
offer, and you shall have the money to pay those debts
which have been pressing so miserably upon you. Don t
thank — not a word — but listen. I would so like, Dol-
ly, to come and live with you. We could unite our in-
comes, I need only bring poor old Tamar with me, and I
can give up Redman's Farm in September next. I should
be so much happier; and I think my income and yours
joined would enable us to live without any danger of get-
ting into debt. Will you agree to this, Dolly, dear; and
promise me, William Wylder, that you will think no
more of selling that reversion, which may be the splendid
provision of your dear little boy. Your refusal would
almost make me mad. I would try, Dolly, to be of use.
I think I could. Only try me."
She fancied she saw in Dolly's face, under all her
gratitude, some perplexity and hesitation, and feared to
accept a decision then. So she hurried away, with a has-
ty and kind good-bye.
A fortnight before, I think, during Dolly's jealous fit,
this magnificent offer of Rachel's would, notwithstanding
the dreadful necessities of the case, have been coldly re-
ceived by the poor little woman. But that delusion was
quite cured now — no reserve, or doubt, or coldness left
behind. And Dolly and the Vicar felt that Rachel's no-
ble proposal was the making of them.


CHAPTER LVIII.
'AN ENEMY IN REDMAN'S DELL.
Jos LARKIN grew more and more uncomfortable about
the unexpected interposition of Rachel Lake as the day
wore on. He felt, with an unerring intuition, that the
young lady both despised and suspected him. He also
knew that she was impetuous and clever, and he feared a
fatal mischief—he could not tell exactly how—to his
plans.
Jim Button's letter had somehow an air of sobriety
and earnestness, which made way with his convictions.
His doubts and suspicions had subsided, and he now be-
lieved, with a profound moral certainty, that Mark Wylder
was actually dead, within the precincts of a mad-house or
of some lawless place of detention abroad. What was
that to the purpose? Button might arrive at any mo-
ment. Low fellows are always talking; and the story
might get abroad before the assignment of the Vicar's in-
terest. Of course there was something speculative in
the whole transaction, but he had made his book well,
and by his "arrangement" with Captain Lake, which-
ever way the truth lay, he stood to win.
On the whole, he was not altogether sorry for the de-
lay. Every thing worked together he knew. One or
two covenants and modifications in the articles had struck
him as desirable, on reading the instrument over with
William Wylder. He also,thought a larger consideration
should be stated and acknowledged as paid, say 22,000/.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 365
The Vicar would really receive just 2,200/. !" Costs"
would do something to reduce the balance, for Jos Lar-
kin was one of those oxen who, when treading out corn,
decline to be muzzled. The remainder was — the Vicar
would clearly understand — one of those ridiculous ped-
antries of law, upon which our system of crotchets and
fictions insisted. And William Wylder, whose character,
simply pnd sensitively honorable, Mr. Larkin appreciated,
was to write to Burlington and Smith a letter, for the
satisfaction of their speculative and nervous client, pledg-
ing his honor, that in the event of the sale bein^ com-
pleted, he would never do, countenance, or permit, any act
or proceeding whatsoever, tending on any ground to im-
peach or invalidate the transaction.
Now while the improved " instrument" was in prepar-
ation, the attorney strolled down in the evening to look
after his clerical client, and keep him "strait" for the
meeting at which he was to sign the articles next day.
It was by the drowsy faded light of a late summer's
evening that he arrived at the quaint little parsonage.
He maintained his character as "a nice spoken gentle-
man," by enquiring of the maid who opened the door how
the little boy was. "Not so well — gone to bed — but
would be better, every one was sure, in the morning." So
. he went in and saw the Vicar, who had just returned with
Dolly from a little ramble.
"Well, my good invaluable friend, you will bo glad —
you will rejoice with us, I know, to learn that, after all,
the sale of our reversion 13 unnecessary."
The attorney allowed his client to shako him by both
hands, and he smiled a sinister congratulation as well as he
could, grinning in reply to the Vicar's pleasant smile as
cheerfully as was feasible, and wofully puzzled in the
meantime. Had James Dutton arrived and announced the


366 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
death of Mark — no; it could hardly be that — decency
had not yet quite taken leave of the earth; and stupid as
the Vicar was, he would hardly announce the death of his
brother to a Christian gentleman in a fashion so outra-
geous. Had Lord Chelford been invoked, and answered
satisfactorily? Or Dorcas — or had Lake, the diabolical
sneak, interposed with his long purse, and a plausible hy-
pocrisy of kindness, to spoil Larkin's plans? All these
fanciful queries flitted through his brain as the Vicar's
hands shook both his.
After a while, Dolly assisting, and sometimes both talk-
ing together, the story was told, Rachel blessed and pan-
egyrised, and the attorney's congratulations challenged and
yielded once more. But there was something not alto-
gether joyous in Jos Larkin's countenance, which struck
the Vicar, and he said —
"You don't see any objection?" and paused.
"Objection? Why, objection, my dear sir, is a strong
word; but I fear I do see a difficulty — in fact, several
difficulties. Perhaps you would take a little turn on the
green — I must call for a moment at the reading-room —
and I'll explain. You'll forgive me, I hope, Mrs. Wylder,"
he added, with a playful condescension, "for running
away with your husband, but only for a few minutes —'
ha, ha!"
The shadow was upon Jos Larkin's face, and he was
plainly meditating a little uncomfortably, as they ap-
proached the quiet green of Gylingden.
"The offer," said the attorney, beginning rather ab-
ruptly, "is no doubt a handsome offer at the first glance,
and it may be well meant. But the fact is, my dear Mr.
Wylder, six hundred pounds would leave little more than
a hundred remaining after Burlington and Smith have had
their costs. You have no idea of the expense and trouble
of title, and the inevitable costliness, my dear sir, of all


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 367
conveyancing operations. The deeds, I have little doubt,
have been prepared — that is, in draft, of course — and
then, my dear sir, I need not remind you, that there re-
main the costs to me — those, of course, await your en-
tire convenience — but still they should be forgotten in
the general adjustment of your affairs, which I understand
you to propose."
The Vicar's countenance fell. In fact, it is idle to say
that, being unaccustomed to the grand scale on which law
costs present themselves on occasion, he was unspeakably
shocked; and he grew very pale and silent on hearing
these impressive sentences.
'" And as to Miss Lake's residing with you as she pro-
poses, Miss Lake is well aware that I am congisant of cir-
cumstances which render any such arrangement absolutely
impracticable. I need not, my dear sir, be more particu-
lar — at present. In a little time you will probably be mado
acquainted with them, by the inevitable disclosures of
time."
"But — but what" — stammered the pale Vicar, al-
together shocked and giddy.
"You will not press me, my dear sir; you'll under-
stand that, just now, I really cannot satisfy any particular
enquiry. Miss Lake had spoken, in charity I will hope
and trust, without thought. But I am much mistaken,
or she will herself, on half-an-hour's calm consideration,
see the moral impossibilities which interpose between her
plan and its realization."
There was a little pause here, during which the tread
of their feet on the soft grass alone was audible.
"You will quite understand," resumed the attorney,
"the degree -of confidence with which I make this com-
munication; and you will please, specially not to mention
it to any person whatsoever. I do not except, in fact, any.
You will find, on consideration, that Miss Lake will not


368 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
press her residence upon you. No; I've no doubt Miss
Lake is a very intelligent person, and, when not excited.,
will see it clearly."
Jos Larkin took his leave a little abruptly. He did not
condescend to ask the Vicar whether he still entertained
Miss Lake's proposal. •
"Well," thought the Vicar, "that munificent offer is
unavailing, it. seems. The sum insufficient, great as it, is;
and other difficulties in the way."
He was walking homewards, slowly and dejectedly; and
was now beginning to feel alarm lest the purchase of the
reversion should fail. The agreement was to have gone
up to London by this day's mail, and now could not reach
till the day after to-morrow — four-and-twenty hours
later than was promised. The attorney had told him it
was a " touch-and-go affair," and the whole thing might
bg ofl in a moment; and if it should miscarry, what in-'
cvitable ruin yawned before him? Oh, the fatigue of
these monotonous agitations — this never-ending sus-
pense!
With the attorney it was different. Making the most
of his height, which he fancied added much to the aristo-
cratic effect of his presence, with his head thrown back,
and swinging his walking cane easily between his finger
- and thumb by his side, he strode languidly through the
main street of Gylingden, in the happy belief that he. was
making a sensation among the denizens of the town.
And so he moved on to the mill-road, on which he
entered, and was soon deep in the shadows of Redman's
Dell.
Ho opened the tiny garden-gate of Redman's Farm,
looking about him with a supercilious benevolence, like a
man conscious of bestowing a distinction. He was in-
wardly sensible of a sort of condescension in entering so
diminutive and homely a place.


WYLDER'S IIAJVD. 3Q9
Old Tamar was- sitting in the porch, with her closed
Bible upon her kneea; there was no longer light to read
by. She rose up, like the "grim, white woman who
haunts yon wood," before him.
Her young lady had walked up to Brandon, taking fhe
little girl with her, and she supposed would be back again
early.
Very good. Mr. Larkin would take a short walk, and
as his business was pressing, he would take the liberty of
looking in again in about half-an-hour, if she thought her
mistress would be at home then.
In the meantime Rachel had arrived at Brandon Hall.
Dorcas — whom, if the truth were spoken, she would
rather not have met — encountered her on the steps.
"Have you really come all this way, Rachel, to see
me this evening?" she said, and something of sarcasm
thrilled in the cold, musical tones.
"No, Dorcas," said Rachel, taking hef proffered hand
in the spirit in which it was given, and with the air rather
of a defiance than of a greeting; "I came to see my
brother."
"You are frank, at all events, Rachel, and truth is
better than courtesy; but you forget that your brother
could not have returned so soon."
"Returned?" said Rachel; '" I did not know he had
left home."
"He'll return to-morrow; and perhaps your meeting
may still be in time. I was thinking of a few minutes'
walk upon the terrace, but you are fatigued; you had
better come in and rest."
"No, Dorcas, I won't go in."
"But, Rachel, you are tired; you must come in with
me, and drink tea, and then you *can go, home in the
brougham," said Dorcas, more kindly.
16*


370 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"No, Dorcas, no; I will not drink tea nor go in; but
I am tired, and as you are so kind, I will accept your offer
of the carriage."
Lurcom had, that moment, appeared in the vestibule,
and received the order.
"I'll sit in the porch, if you will allow me, Dorcas;
you must not lose your walk."
"Then you won't come into the house, you won't drink
tea with me, and you won't join me in my little walk! and
why not any of these?"
Dorcas smiled coldly, and continued,
"Well, I shall hear the carriage coming to the door,
and I'll return and bid you good night. It is plain, Ra-
chel, you do not like my company."
"True, Dorcas, I do not like your company. You are
unjust; you have no confidence in me; you prejudge me
without proof; and you have quite ceased to love me.
Why should I like your company?"
Dorcas smiled a proud and rather sad smile at this
sudden change from the conventional to the passionate;
and the direct and fiery charge of her kinswoman was
unanswered.
"You think I no longer love you, Rachel, as I did.
Perhaps young ladies' friendships are never very endur-
ing; but, if it be so, the fault is not mine."
"No, Dorcas, the fault is not yours, nor mine. The
fault is in circumstances. The time is coming, Dorcas, when
you will know all, and, may be, judge memercifully. In
tlie meantime, Dorcas you cannot like my company, because
you do not like me; and I do not like yours, just because,
in spite of all, I do love you still; and in yours I only see
the image of a lost friend. You may be restored to me
soon — maybe never — but till then, I have lost you."
"Well," said Dorcas, "it may be there is a wild kind


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 371
of truth in what you say, Rachel, and — no matter —
time as you say, and light — I don't understand you,
Rachel; but there is this in you that resembles me —
we both hate hypocrisy, and we are both, in our own ways,
proud. I'll come back, when I hear the carriage, and see
you for a moment, as you won't stay, or come with me,
and bid you good-bye."
So Dorcas went her way; and alone, on the terrace,
looking over the stone balustrade — over the rich and
sombre landscape, dim and vaporous in the twilight — she
still saw the pale face of Rachel — paler than she liked to
see it. Was she ill ? — and she thought how lonely she
would be if Rachel were to die — how lonely she was now.
There was a sting of compunction — a yearning — and
then started a few bitter and solitary tears.
In one of the great stone vases, that are ranged along
the terrace, there flourished a beautiful and rare rose.
Its fragrant petals were now strewn upon the terrace un-
derneath. One blossom only remained untarnished, and
Dorcas plucked it, and with it in her fingers, she returned
to the porch where Rachel remained-
"You see I have come back a little before my time,"
said Dorcas. "I have just been looking at the plant you
used to admire so much, and the leaves are shed already,
and it reminded me of our friendship, Radie; but I am
sure you are right; it will all bloom again after the win-
ter, you know, and I thought I would come back, and say
that, and give you this relic of the bloom that is gone —
the last token," and she kissed Rachel, as she placed it in
her fingers, "a token of remembrance and of hope."
"I will keep it, Dorkie. It was kind of you," and
their eyes met regretfully.
"And — and, I think, I do trust you, Radie," said the
heiress of Brandon; "and I hope you will try to like me


372 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
on till — till spring comes, you know. And, I wish,"
she sighed softly, "I wish we were as we used to be. I
am not very happy; and — here's the carriage."
CHAPTER LIX.
RACHEL LAKE BEFORE THE ACCUSER.
TWILIGHT was darker in Redman's Dell than anywhere
else. But dark as it was, there was still light enough
to enable Rachel, as she hurried across the little garden,
on her return from Brandon, to see a long white face,
and some dim outline of the figure to which it belonged,
looking out upon her from the window of her little
drawing-room.
Tamar was in the kitchen. Could it be Stanley?
But faint as the outline was she saw, she fancied that it
was a taller person than he. She felt a sort of alarm, in
which there was some little mixture of the superstitious,
and she pushed open the door, not entering the room, but
staring in toward the window, where against the dim, ex-
ternal light, she clearly saw, without recognizing it, a tall
figure, greeting her with mop and moe.
"Who is that?" cried Miss Lake, a little sharply.
"It is I, Miss Lake, Mr. Josiah Larkin, of the Lodge,"
said that gentleman, with what he meant to be an air of
dignified firmness, and looking very like a tall constable
in possession; "I have taken the liberty of presenting
myself, although, I fear, at a somewhat unseasonable hour,
in reference to a little business, which, unfortunately, will
not, J think, bear to be deferred."


374 WVLDER'S HAJVD.
"Then it is plain, sir, I must hear you to-night," said
Miss Lake, haughtily.
"Not that, exactly, Miss Lake, but only that / must
speak to-night — in fact, I have no choice. The subject
of our conference really is an urgent one, and to-morrow
morning, which we should each equally prefer, would be
possibly too late — too late, at least, to obviate a very
painful situation."
"You will make it, lam sure, as short as you can,
sir," said the young lady, in the same tone.
"Exactly my wish, Miss Lake," replied Mr. Jos
Larkin.
"Bring candles, Margery."
And so the little drawing-room was illuminated; and
Miss Lake sitting down at the other side of the table, qui-
etly requested Mr. Larkin to open his case.
"Why, really, it is hardly a five minutes' matter, Miss
Lake. It refers to the Vicar, the Rev. William Wylder,
and his respectable family, and a proposition which he, as
my client, mentioned to me this evening. He stated that
you had offered, to advance a sum of 600/. for the liquida-
tion of his liabilities. It will, perhaps, conduce to clear-
ness to dispose of this part of the matter first. May I
therefore ask, at this stage, whether the Rev. William
Wylder rightly conceived you, when he so stated your
meaning to me?"
"Yes. certainly, I am most anxious to assist them with
that little sum, which I have now an opportunity of pro-
curing."
A — exactly — yes — well, Miss Lake, that is, of
course, very kind of you; but, as Mr. William Wylder's
solicitor, and as I have already demonstrated to him, I
must now inform you, that the sum of six hundred pounds
would be absolutely useless in his position; ten times


376 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Miss Lake, if my manner could in the least justify the
strong and undue language in which you have been
pleased to characterise it; but the fact of being misunder-
stood shall not deter me from the discharge of a simple
duty."
"If it is part of your duty, sir, to make yourself in-
telligible, may I beg that you will do it without further
delay."
"My principal object in calling here was to inform you,
Miss Lake, that you must abandon the idea of residing
in the Vicar's house, as you proposed, unless you wish
me to state explicitly to him and to Mrs. Wylder the in-
surmountable objections which exist to any such arrange-
ment. Such a task, Miss Lake, would be most painful to
me. I hesitate to discuss the question even with you;
and if you give me your word of honor that you abandon
that idea, I shall, on the instant take my leave, and cer-
tainly, for the present, trouble you no further upon a most
painful subject."
"And now, sir, as I have no intention whatever of tol-
erating your incomprehensibly impertinent interference,
and don't understand your meaning in the slightest de-
gree, and do not intend to withdraw the offer I have made
to good Mrs. Wylder. you will perceive the uselessness of
prolonging your visit, and be so good as to leave me in
unmolested possession of my poor residence."
"If I wished you an injury, Miss Lake. I should take
you at your word. I don't — I wish to spare you. Your
countenance, Miss Lake — you must pardon my frank-
ness, it is my way — your countenance tells only too
plainly that you now comprehend my allusion."
There was a confidence and significance in the attor-
ney's air and accent, and a peculiar look of latent ferocity
in his evil countenance, which gradually excited her fears,
and fascinated her gaze.


WYLDER'S IIJUVD. 377
'' Now, Miss Lake, we are sitting here in the presence
of Him who is the searcher of hearts, and before whom
nothing is secret — your eye is upon mine and mine on
yours — and I ask you, do you remember the night of
the 29/A of September last?"
That mean, pale, taunting face! the dreadful accents
that vibrated within ier! How could that ill-omened
man have divined her connection with the incidents of
that direful night? The lean figure in the black frock-
coat, and black silk waistcoat, with that great gleaming
watch-chain, the long, shabby, withered face, and flushed,
bald forehead; and those paltry little eyes, in their pink
setting, that nevertheless fascinated her like the gaze of a
serpent. An evil spirit incarnate he seemed to her. She
blanched before it — every vestige of color fled from her
features — she stared — she gaped at him. with a strange
look of imbecility — and the long face seemed to enjoy
and protract its triumph.
Without removing his gaze he was fumbling in his
pocket for his note-book, which he displayed with a faint
- smile, grim and pallid.
"I see you do remember that night — as well yon
may, Miss Lake," he ejaculated, in formidable tones, and
with a shake of his bald head.
"Now, Miss Lake, you see this book. It contains,
madain, the skeleton of a case. The bones and joints,
ma'am, of a case. I have it here, noted and prepared.
There is not a fact in it without a note of the name and
address of the witness who can prove it — the witness —
observe me."
Then there was a pause of a few seconds, during which
he still kept her under his steady gaze.
"On that night. Miss Lake, the 29th September, you
drove in Mr. Mark Wylder's tax-cart to the Dollington
station, where, notwithstanding your veil, and your cau-


378 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
tion you were seen and recognised. The same occurred
at Charteris. You accompanied Mr. Mark Wylder in
his midnight flight to London, Miss Lake. Of your stay
in London I say nothing. It was protracted to the 2nd
October, when you arrived in the down train at Dolling-
ton at twelve o'clock at night, and took a cab to the ' White
House,' where you were met by a gentleman answering
the description of your brother, Captain Lake. Now,
Miss Lake, I have stated no particulars, but do you think
that knowing all this, and knowing the fraud by which
your absence was covered, and perfectly understanding, as
every man conversant with this sinful world, must do. the
full significance of all this, I could dream of permitting
you, Miss Lake, to become domesticated as an inmate in
the family of a pure-minded, though simple and unfortu-
nate clergyman?"
"It may become my duty," he resumed, "to prosecute
a searching enquiry, madam, into the circumstances of
Mr. Mark Wylder's disappearance. If you have the
slightest regard for your own honor, you will not precip-
itate that measure, Miss Lake ; and so sure as you persist
in your unwarrantable design of residing in that unsus-
pecting family, I will publish what I shall then feel called
upon by my position to make known; for I will be no
party to seeing an innocent family compromised by adznit-
ing an inmate of whose real characte r they have not the
faintest suspicion."
Looking straight in his face, with the same expression
of helplessness, she uttered at last a horrible cry of an-
guish that almost thrilled that callous Christian.
"I think I'm going mad!"
"Pray, compose yourself, Miss Lake — there's no need
to agitate yourself— nothing of all this need occur if
you do not force it upon me — nothing. I beg you'll
collect yourself—shall I call for water, Miss Lake?"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 383
as "wholly nugatory, illusory, and chimerical; " told him
he had spoken on the subject, yesterday evening, to the
young lady, who now saw plainly that there really was
nothing in it, and that she was not in a position to carry
out that part of her proposition, which contemplated a
residence in the Vicar's family.
This portion of his discourse he dismissed rather slight-
ly and mysteriously; but he contrived to leave upon the
Vicar's mind a very painful and awful sort of uncertainty
respecting the young lady of whom he spoke.
Then he became eloquent on the madness of further in-
decision in a state of things so fearfully menacing, freely
admitting that it would have been incomparably better for
the Vicar never to have moved in the matter, than, hav-
ing put his hand to the plough, to look back as he had
been doing. If he decline his advice, there was no more
to be said, but to bow his head to the storm, and that
ponderous execution ^YOuld descend in wreck and desola-
tion.
So the Vicar, very much flushed, in panic and perplex-
ity, and trusting wildly to his protesting lawyer's guid-
ance, submitted. Buggs and the bilious youngster en-
tered with the deed, and the articles were duly executed;
and the Vicar signed also a receipt for the fanciful part
of the consideration, and upon it and the deed he endorsed
a solemn promise, that he would never take any step to
question, set aside, or disturb the purchase, or any mat-
ter connected therewith.
Then the attorney, congratulated the poor Vicar on his
emancipation from his difficulties; and " now that it was
all done and over, told him, what he had never told him
before, that, considering the nature of the purchase, he
had got a splendid price for it."
The good man had also his agreement from Lake to sell
Five Oaks.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 335
cambric, and with perfumed hair and handkerchief, pre-
sented himself before Dorcas.
"Now, Dorkie, darling, your poor soldier has come
back, resolved to turn over a new leaf, and never more to
reserve another semblance of a secret from you," said he,
so soon as his first greeting was over. "I long to have a
good talk with you, Dorkie. I have no one on earth to
confide in but you. I think," he said, with a little sigh,
"I would never have been so reserved with you, darling,
if _I had had anything pleasant to confide; but all I have
to say is triste and tiresome — only a story of difficulties
and petty vexations. I want to talk to you, Dorkie.
Where shall it be?"
They were in the great drawing-room, where I had first
seen Dorcas Brandon and Rachel Lake, on the evening on
which my acquaintance with the princely Hall was renew-
ed, after an interval of so many years.
"This room, Stanley, dear?"
"Yes, this room will answer very well," he said, look-
ing round. "We can't be over heard, it is so large. Very
well, darling, listen."
CHAPTER LXI.
THE CAPTAIN EXPLAINS WHY MARK WILDER ABSCONDED.
"How delicious these violets are!" said Stanley, lean-
ing for a moment over the fragrant purple dome that
crowned a china stand on the marble table they were pass-
ing. "You love flowers, Dorkie. Every perfect woman
17


386 WVLDER'S HAJVD.
is, I think, a sister of Flora's. You are looking pale —
you have not been ill? No! I'm very glad you say so.
Sit down for a moment and listen, darling. And first I'll
tell you, upon my honor, what Rachel has been worrying
me about."
Dorcas sate beside him on the sofa, and he placed his
slender arm affectionately round her waist.
"You must know, Dorkie, that before his sudden de-
parture, Mark Wylder promised 4o lend William, his
brother, a sum sufficient to relieve him of all his pressing
debts."
"Debts! I never knew before that he had any," ex-
claimed Dorcas. "Poor William! I am so sorry."
"Well, he has, like other fellows, only he can't get
away as easily, and he has been very much pressed since
Mark went, for he has not yet lent him a guinea, and in
fact Rachel says she thinks he is in danger of being reg-
ularly sold out. "Well, you must know that / was the
sole cause of Mark Wylder's leaving the country."
"You, Stanley!"
"Yes, 7, Dorkie. I believe I thought I was doing a
duty; but really I was nearly mad with jealousy, and
simply doing ray utmost to drive a rival from your pres-
ence. And yet, without hope for myself, desperately in
love."
Dorcas looked down and smiled oddly; it was a sad and
bitter smile, and seemed to ask whither has that desperate
love, in so short a time, flown?
"I know I was right. He was a stained man, and was
liable at any moment to be branded. It was villainous in
him to seek to marry you. I told him at last that, unless
- he withdrew, your friends should know all. I expected he
would show fight, and that a meeting would follow; and
I really did not much care whether I were killed or not.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 337
But he went, on the contrary, rather quietly, threatening
to pay me off, however, though he did not say how.
"He is palpably machinating something to my des-
truction with an influential attorney of whom I keep a
watch, and he has got some fellow named Dutton into the
conspiracy; and not knowing how they mean to act, and
only knowing how utterly wicked, cunning, and bloody-
minded he is, and that he hates me as he probably never
hated anyone before, I must be prepared to meet him,
and, if possible, to blow up that Satanic cabal, which
without motiey I can't. It was partly a mystification
about the election; of course, it will be expensive, but
nothing like the other. Are you ill, Dorkie?"
He might well ask, for she appeared on the point of
fainting.
Dorcas had read and heard stories of men seemingly no
worse than their neighbors — nay, highly esteemed, and
praised, and liked — who yet were haunted by evil men,
who encountered them in lonely places, or by night, and
controlled them by the knowledge of some dreadful crime.
Was Stanley— her husband — whose character she had
begun to discern, whose habitual mystery was, somehow,
tinged in her mind with a shade of horror, one of this
two-faced, diabolical order of heroes?
Why should he dread this cabal, as he called it, even
though directed by the malignant energy of the absent
and shadowy Mark Wylder? Why should it be necessary
to buy off the conspirators whom a guiltless man would
defy and punish?
The doubt did not come in these defined shapes. As a
halo surrounds a saint, a shadow rose suddenly, and en-
veloped pale, scented, smiling Stanley, with the yellow
eyes. He stood in the centre of a dreadful medium,
through which she saw him, ambiguous and awful; and
she sickened.


388 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Are you ill, Dorkie, darling?" said the apparition in
accents of tenderness. "Yes, you are ill."
And he hastily threw open the window, close to which
they were sitting, and she quickly revived in the cooling
air.
"You are better, darling; thank heaven, you are bet-
ter.'
"Yes — yes — a great deal better; it is passing away."
Her color was returning, and with a shivering sigh,
she said —
"Oh! Stanley, you must speak truth; I am your
wife. Do they know anything very bad — are you in
their power?"
"Why, my dearest, what on earth could put such a wild
fancy in your head?" said Lake, with a strange laugh,
and, as she fancied, growing still paler. "Do you sup-
pose I am a highwayman in disguise, or a murderer, like
— wjiat's his name — Eugene Aram. I must have ex-
pressed myself very ill, if I suggested anything so tragical.
I protest before Heaven, my darling, there is not one
word or act of mine I need fear to submit to any court of
justice or of honor on earth."
He took her hand, and kissed it affectionately, and still
fondling it gently between his, he resumed —
"I don't mean to say, of course, that I have always
been better than other young fellows; I've been foolish,
and wild, and — and — I've done wrong things, occasion-
ally — as all young men will; but for high crimes and
misdemeanors, or for melodramatic situations, I never had
the slightest taste. There's no man on earth who can
tell anything of me, or put me under any sort of pressure,
thank Heaven; and simply because I have never in the
course of my life done a single act unworthy of a gentle-
man, or in the most trifling way compromised myself. I


WYLDER'S HAJVJO. 389
swear it, my darling, upon my honor and soul, and I will
swear it in any terms — in order totally and for ever to
remove from your mind so amazing a fancy."
And with a little laugh, and still holding her hand, he
passed his arm round her waist, and kissed her affection-
ately.
"But you are perfectly right, Dorkie, in supposing that
I am under very considerable apprehension from their
machinations. Though they cannot slur our fair fame, it
is quite possible they may very seriously affect our prop-
erty. Mr. Larkin is in possession of all the family papers.
I don't like it, but it is too late now. The estates have
been back and forward so often between the Brandons and
Wylders, I always fancy there may be a screw loose, or a
frangible link somewhere, and he's deeply interested for
Mark Wylder."
"You are better, darling; I think you are better," he
said, looking in her face, after a little pause.
"Yes, dear Stanley, much better; but why should you
suppose any plot against our title?"
"Mark Wylder is in constant correspondence with that
fellow Larkin. I wish we were quietly rid of him, he is
such an unscrupulous dog. I assure you, I doubt very
much if the deeds are safe in his possession; at all events,
he ought to choose between us and Mark Wylder. It is
monstrous his being solicitor for both.
"But tell me, Stanley, how do you want to apply money?
What particular good can it do us in this unpleasant un-
certainty?"
"Well, Dorkie, believe me I have a sure instinct in
matters of this kind. Larkin is plotting treason against
'as. Wylder is incking him, and will reap the benefit of
it. Larkin hesitates to strike, but that won't last long.
In the meantime, he has made a distinct offer to buy Five


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 391
"Because he is quite sure to ad vise against it," answer-
en Stanley, sharply. "He is one of those Quixotic fellows
who get on very well in fair weather, while living with a
duke or duchess, but are sure to run you into mischief when
they come to the inns and highways of common life. I
know perfectly, he would protest against a compromise.
Discharge Larkin — fight him — and see us valiantly
stript of our property by some cursed law-quibble; and
think we ought to be much more comfortable so, than in
this house, on the terms of a compromise with a traitor
like Larkin. But /don't think so, nor any man of sense,
nor anyone but a hare-brained, conceited knight-errant."
"I think Chelford one of the most sensible as well as
honorable men I know; and I will take no step in selling
a part of our estate to that odious Mr. Larkin, without
consulting him, and at least hearing what he thinks of
it."
Stanley's eyes were cast down — and he was nipping
the straggling hairs of his light moustache between his lips
— but he made no answer. Only suddenly he looked up,
and said quietly,
"Very well. Good-bye fora little, Dorkie," and he
leaned over and kissed her cheek, and then passed into the
hall, where he took his hat and cane.
Larcom presented him with a note, in a sealed envelope.
As he took it from the salver he recognized Larkin's clear
and large hand. I suspect that grave Mr. Larcom had
been making his observations and conjectures thereup&n.
The Captain took it with a little nod, and a peevish
side-glance. It said —
"My DEAR CAPTAIN BRANDON LAKE,—Imperative
business calls me to London by the early train to-morrow.
Will you therefore favor me, if convenient, by the bearer,


392 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
with the small note of consent, which must accompany the
articles agreeing to sell.
"I remain, &c. &c. &c."
Larkin's groom was waiting for an answer.
"Tell him I shall probably see Mr. Larkin myself.''
said the Captain, snappishly; and so he walked down to
pretty little Gylingden.
On the steps of the reading-room stood old Tom Raddle,
who acted as marker in the billiard-room, treasurer, and
book-keeper beside, and swept out the premises every
morning and went to and fro at the proper hours, between
that literary and sporting institution and the post-office;
and who, though seldom sober, was always well instructed
in the news of the town.
"How do you do, old Ruddle — quite well?" asked
the Captain with a smile. "Who hare you got iu the
rooms?"
Well, Jos Larkin was not there. Indeed he seldom
showed in those premises which he considered decidedly
low, dropping in only now and then, like the great county
gentlemen, on sessions days to glance at the papers, and
gossip on their own high affairs.
But Buddle had seen Mr. Jos Larkin on the green, not
five minutes since, and thither the gallant Captain bent
his steps.


CHAPTER LXII.
THE AOE OF HEAHTS.
"So you are going to London — to-morrow, is not it?"
said Captain Lake, when on the green of Gylingden,
where visitors were promenading, and the militia bands
playing lusty polkas, he met Mr. Jos Larkin, in lavender
trousers and kid gloves, new hat, metropolitan black,
frock-coat, and shining French boots — the most elegant
as well as the most Christian of provincial attorneys.
"Ah, yes— I think — should my engagements permit
— of starting early to- morrow. The fact is, Captain
Lake, our poor friend the Vicar, you know, the Rev.
William Wylder, has pressing occasion for some money,
and I can't leave him absolutely in the hands of Burling-
ton and Smith."
"No, of course — quite so," said Lake, with that sly
smile which made every fellow on whom it lighted somehow
fancy that the Captain had divined his secret. "Very
honest fellows, with good looking after — ch?"
The attorney laughed a little awkwardly, with his pretty
pink blush over his long face.
"Well, I'm far from saying that, but it is their business,
you know, to take care of their client; and it would not
do to give them the handling of mine. Can I do any-
thing, Captain Lake, for you while in town?"
"Nothing on earth, thank you very much. But I
am thinking of doing something for you. You've inter-
17*


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 395
the table played by him, and before, three minutes they
brought it home — and in fact it was quite clear that poor
dear Mark had helped himself to it in quite an irregular
way."
"Oh, dear, Captain Lake, oh, dear, how shocking —
how inexpressibly shocking! Is not it melancholy?"
said Larkin, in his finest and most pathetic horror.
"Yes; but don't cry till I've done," said Lake, tran-
quilly. "Mark tried to bully, but the cool old heads
were too much for him, and he threw himself at last
entirely on our mercy — and very abject he became, poor
thing."
"How well the mountains look! I am afraid we shall
have rain to-morrow."
Larkin uttered a short groan.
"So they sent him into the small card-room, next that
we were playing in. I think we were about the last in
the club — it was past three o'clock — and so the old
boys deliberated on their sentence. To bring the matter
before the committee were utter ruin to Mark, and they
let him off, on these conditions — he was to retire forth-
with from the club; he was never to play any game of
cards again; and, lastly, he was never more to address
any one of the gentlemen who were present at his detec-
tion; and provided they were each and all strictly observed,
it was intimated that the occurrence should be kept se-
cret. Well, you know, that was letting poor old Mark
off in a coach; and I do assure you, though we had nev-
er liked one another, I really was very glad they did not
move his expulsion — which would have involved his quit-
ting the service — and I positively don't know how ho
could have lived if that had occurred."
"I do solemnly assure you, Captain Lake, what you
have told me has beyond expression amazed, and I will


896 WYLBER'S
Bay, horrified me," said the attorney, with a slow and
melancholy vehemence. "Better men might have sus-
pected something of it — I do solemnly pledge my honor
that nothing of the kind so much as crossed m)' inind —
not naturally suspicious, I believe, but all the more shock-
ed, Captain Lake, on'that account."
"He was poor then, you see, and a few pounds were
everything to him, and the temptatjon immense; but
clumsy fellows ought not to try that sort of thing. There's
the highway — Mark would have made a capital garrot-
ter."
The attorney groaned, and turned up his eyes. The
band was playing '' Pop goes the weasel," and old Jack-
son, very well dressed and buckled up, with a splendid
smile upon his waggish, military countenance, cried, as he
passed, with a wave of his hand, "How do, Lake — how
do, Mr. Larkin — beautiful day!"
"I've no wish to injure Mark; but it is better that you
should know at once, than go about poking everywhere
for information."
"I do assure you " —
"And having really no wish to hurt him," pursued the
Captain, "and a}so making it, as I do, a point that you
shall repeat this conversation as little as possible, I don't
choose to appear singular, as your sole informant, and
I've given you here a line to Sir James Carter — he's
member, you know, for Huddlesbury. I mention, that
Mark, having broken his promise, and played for heavy
stakes, too, both on board his ship, and at Plymouth and
Naples, which I happen to know; and also by accosting
me, whom, aa one of the gentlemen agreeing to impose
these conditions, he was never to address, I felt myself at
liberty to mention it to you, holding the relation you do
to me as well as to him, in consequence of the desir-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 397
ableness of placing you in possession of the true cause of
his absconding, which was simply my telling him that I
would not permit him, slurred as he was, to marry a lady
who was totally ignorant of his actual position; and, in
fact, that unless he withdrew, I must acquaint the young
lady's guardian of the circumstances."
There was quite enough probability in this story to war-
rant Jos L; irk in in turning up his eyes and groaning.
But in the intervals, his shrewd eyes searched the face of
the Captain, not knowing whether to believe one syllable
of what he related.
I may as well mention here, that the attorney did pre-
sent the note to Sir J. Carter with which Captain Lake
had furnished him; indeed, he never lost an opportunity
of making the acquaintance of a person of rank; and
that the worthy baronet, so appealed to, and being a blunt
sort of fellow, and an old acquaintance of Stanley's, did,
in a short and testy sort of way, corroborate Captain Lake's
story, having previously conditioned that he was not to be
referred to as the authority from whom Mr. Larkin had
learned it.
The attorney and Captain Brandon Lake were now
walking side by side over the more sequestered part of the
green.
"And so," said the Captain, coming to a stand-still,
"I'll bid you good-bye, Larkin; what stay, I forgot to
ask, do you make in town?"
"Only a day or two."
"You'll not wait for the division on Trawler's mc-
tion?"
"Oh, dear, no. I calculate I'll be here again, certain-
ly, in three days' time. And, I suppose, Captain Lake,
you received my note?"
"You mean just now? Oh, yes; of course it is all


398 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
right; bat one day is as good as another; and you have
got my agreement signed."
"Pardon me, Captain Brandon Lake; the fact is, one
day, in this case, does not answer as well as another, for
I must have drafts of the deeds prepared by my convey-
ancer in town, and the note is indispensable. Perhaps,
if there is any difficulty, you will be so good as to say so,
and I shall then be in a position to consider the case in
its new aspect."
"What the devil difficulty caw there be, sir? I can't
see it, any more than what hurry can possibly exist about
it," said Lake, stung with a momentary fury. It seemed
as though everyone was conspiring to perplex and torment
him; and he, like the poor Vicar, though for very different
reasons, had grown intensely anxious to sell. He had
grown to dread the attorney, since the arrival of Button's
letter.
"There is no difficulty about the note, sir; it contains
but four lines, and I've given you the form. No difficulty
can exist but in the one quarter; and the fact is," he
added, steadily, "unless I have that note before I leave
to-morrow morning, I'll assume that you wish to be off,
Captain Lake, and I will adapt myself to circumstances."
"You may have it now," said the Captain, with a fierce
carelessness. "D—d nonsense! Who could have fancied
any such stupid hurry? Send in the morning, and you
shall have it." And the Captain, rather savagely turned
away, skirting the crowd who hovered about the band, in
his leisurely and now solitary ramble.
The Captain was sullen that evening at home. He was
very uncomfortable. His heart was failing him for the
things that were coming to pass. One of his maniacal
tempers, which had often before thrown him, as it were
"off the rails," was at the bottom of his immediate troubles.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. . 399
This proneness to sudden accesses of violence and fury
was the compensation which abated the effect of his or-
dinary craft and self-command.
He had done all he could to obviate the consequences of
his folly in this case. He hoped the attorney might not
succeed in discovering Jim Button's whereabouts. At all
events, he had been beforehand, and taken measures to
quiet that person's dangerous resentment. But it was
momentous in the critical state of things to give this dan-
gerous attorney a handsome share in his stake — to place
him, as he had himself said, "in the same boat," and en-
list all his unscrupulous astuteness in maintaining his
title; and if he went to London disappointed, and things
turned out unluckily about Button, it might be a very aw-
ful business, indeed.
Dinner had been a very dull te.te-a-te.te. Boreas sat
stately and sad — looking from the window toward the
distant sunset horizon, piled in dusky gold and crimson
clouds, against the faded, green sky — a glory that is al-
ways melancholy and dreamy. Stanley sipped his claret,
his eyes upon the cloth. He raised them and looked out,
too; and the ruddy light tinted his pale features.
A gleam of good humor seemed to come with it, and he
said —
"I was just thinking, Borkie, that for you and me, alone,
these great rooms are a little dreary. Suppose we have
tea in the tapestry room."
"The Butch room, Stanley — I think so—I should
like it very well. So, I am certain would Rachel. I've
written to her to come. I hope she will. I expect her at
nine. The broughman will be with her. She wrote such
an odd note to-day, addressed to you; but / opened it.
Here it is."
She did not watch his countenance, or look in his di-


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 401
and, I think, relieved from suspense, and the torments of
mystery. So will she. At all events, it is her right to
know all — and she shall.
"YOUR OUTCAST AND MISERABLE SlSTER."
On Stanley's lips his serene, unpleasant smile was
gleaming, as he closed the note carelessly. He intended
to speak, but his voice caught. He cleared it, and sipped
a little claret.
"For a clever girl she certainly does write the most
wonderful rubbish. Such an effusion! And she sends it
tossing about, from hand to hand, among the servants.
I've anticipated her, however. Dorkie.1' And he took her
hand and kissed it. "She does not know I've told you all
myself."
Stanley went to the library, and Dorcas to the conser-
vatory, neither very happy, each haunted by an evil au-
gury, and a sense of coming danger. The deepening
shadow warned Dorcas that it was time to repair to the
Dutch room, where she found lights and tea prepared.
In a few minutes more the library door opened and
Stanley Lake peeped in.
"Radie not come yet?" said he, entering. "We cer-
tainly are much pleasanter in this room, Dorkie, more, in
proportion, than we two should have been in the drawing-
room."
He seated himself beside her, drawing his chair very
close to hers, and taking her hand in his. He was more
affectionate this evening than usual. What did it portend?
she thought. She had already begun to acquiesce in Ra-
chel's estimate of Stanley, and to fancy that whatever he
did it was with an unacknowledged purpose.
"Does little Dorkie love me?" said Lake, in a sweet
undertone.


402 WYLDER'S HJLJVD.
There was reproach, but love too, in the deep soft glance
she threw upon him.
"You must promise me not to be frightened at what I
am going to tell you," said Lake.
She heard him with sudden panic, and a sense of cold
stole over her. She knew something was coming — the
secret she had invoked so long — and she was appalled.
"Don't be frightened, darling. It is necessary to tell
you; but it is really not much when you hear me out.
You'll say so when you.have quite heard me. So you
won't be frightened?"
She was gazing straight into his wild yellow eyes, fasci-
nated, with a look of expecting terror.
"You are nervous, darling," he continued, laying his
hand on hers. "Shall we put it off for a little? You are
frightened."
"Not much frightened, Stanley," she whispered.
"Well, we had better wait. I see, Dorcas, you are
frightened and nervous. Don't keep looking at me; look
at something else, can't you? You make yourself nervous
that way. I promise, upon my honor. I'll not say a word
about it till you bid me."
"I know, Stanley — I know."
"Then, why won't you look down, or look up, or look
any way you please, only don't stare at me so."
"Yes — oh, yes," and she shut her eyes.
"I'm sorry I began," he said, pettishly. "You'll make
a fuss. You've made yourself quite nervous; and 111
wait a little."
"0 ! no, Stanley, now — for Heaven's sake, now. I
was only a little startled; but I am quite well again. Is
it anything about marriage? Oh, Stanley, in mercy, tell
me was there any other engagement?"
"Nothing, darling — nothing on earth of the sort;"


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 403
and he spoke with an icy little laugh. "Your poor soldier
is altogether yours, Dorkie," and he kissed her cheek.
"Thank God for that!" said Dorcas, hardly above her
breath.
"What I have to say is quite different, and really noth-
ing that need affect you; but Rachel has made such a row
about it. Fifty fellows, I know, are in much worse fixes;
and though" it is not of so much consequence, still I think
I should not have told you; only, without knowing it, you
were thwarting me, and helping to get me into a serious
difficulty by your obstinacy — or what you will — about
Five Oaks."
Somehow, trifling as the matter was, Stanley seemed to
grow more and more unwilling to disclose it, and rather
shrank from it now.
"Now, Dorcas, mind, there must be no trifling. You
must not treat me as Rachel has. If you can't keep a
secret — for it is a secret — say so. Shall I tell you?"
"Yes, Stanley — yes. I'm your wife."
"Well, Dorcas, I told you something of it; but only
a part, and some circumstances I did intentionally color a
little; but I could not help it, unless I had told every-
thing; and no matter what you or Rachel may say, it was
kinder to withhold it as long as I could."
He glanced at the door, and spoke in a lower tone.
And so, with his eyes lowered to the table at which he
sat, glancing ever and anon sideways at the door, and
tracing little figures with the tip of his finger upon the
shining rosewood, he went on murmuring his strange and
hateful story in the ear of his wife.
It was not until he had spoken some three or four min-
utes that Dorcas suddenly uttered a wild scream, and
started to her feet. And Stanley also rose precipitately
and caught her in his arms, for she was falling.


WYLDER'S HAMD. 405
'' Here, Reuben, here; where the devil have you been
— take him away. He has terrified her. By — he ought
to be shot."
The keeper silently slid his arm into Uncle Lome's, and,
unresisting, the old man talking to himself the while, drew
him from the room.
Larcom, about to announce Miss Lake, and closely fol-
lowed by that young lady, passed the grim old phantom
on the lobby.
"Be quick, you are wanted there," said the attendant,
as he passed.
Dorcas, pale as marble, sighing deeply again and again,
her rich black hair drenched in water, which trickled over
her cheeks, like the tears and moisture of agony, was re-
covering. There was water spilt on the table, and the
fragments of a broken glass upon the floor.
The moment Rachel saw her, she divined what had hap-
pened and, gliding over, she placed her arm round her.
"You're better,-darling. Open the window, Stanley.
Send her maid."
"Aye, send her maid," cried Captain Lake to Larcom.
This is your d—d work. A nice mess you have made
of it among you."
"Are you better, Dorcas?" said Rachel.
"Yes, much better. I'm glad, darling, I understand
you now. Radie, kiss me."
Next morning, before early family prayers, while Mr.
Jos Larkin was locking the despatch box which was to
accompany him to London, Mr. Larcom arrived at the
Lodge.
He had a note for Mr. Larkin's hand, which he must
himself deliver; and so he was shown into that gentle-
man's official cabinet, and received with the usual lofty
kindness.


WYLDER'S HJUVD. 407
"Well, that may be, sir, but I almost suspeck she's bin
hurted somehow. She got them cryin' fits upstairs, you
know; and the Capting, he's hoffle bad-tempered this
morning, and he never looked near her once, after his sis-
ter came; and he left "them together, talking and crying,
and he locked hisself into the library, like one as knowed
he'd done something to be ashamed on, half the night."
And so on. But there was no more to be learned, and
Mr. Larcom returned and attended the Captain very rev-
erentially at his solitary breakfast.
Mr. Jos Larkin was away for London. Everything
was going perfectly smoothly with him. A celestial grati-
tude glowed and expanded within his breast. His angling
had been prosperous hitherto, but just now he had made a
miraculous draught, and his nets and his heart were burst-
ing-
There was no shadow of self-reproach to slur the sunny
landscape. He had made a splendid purchase from Cap-
tain Lake, it was true. He drew his despatch-box nearer to
him affectionately, as he thought on the precious records
it contained. But who in this wide-awake world was bet-
ter able to take care of himself than the gallant Captain?
If it were not the best thing for the Captain, surely it
would not have been done. Whom have I defrauded?
My hands are clean! He had made a still better pur-
chase from the Vicar; but what would have become of
the V icar if he had not been raised up to purchase? And
was it not speculative, and was it not possible' that he
should lose all that money, and was it not, on the whole,
the wisest thing that the Vicar, under his difficulties, could
have been advised to do?
So reasoned the good attorney, as with a languid smile
and a sigh of content, his long hand laid across the cover
of tho despatch-box by his side, he looked forth through


408 WVLDER'S HAJVD.
the plate-glass window upon the sunny fields and hedge-
rows that glided by him, and felt the blessed assurance,
"look whatsoever he doeth it shall prosper," mingling in
the hum of surrounding nature. In this happy state, and
volunteering all manner of courtesies, opening and shut-
ting windows, lending his rail way guide and his newspapers
whenever he had an opportunity, he at length reached the
great London terminus, and was rattling over the. me-
tropolitan*pave'ment, with his hand on his despatch-box, to
his cheap hotel near the Strand.
CHAPTER LXIV.
I HEVISIT BRANDON HALL.
RACHEL LAKE was courageous and energetic; and,
when once she had taken a clear view of her duty, won-
derfully persistent and impracticable. Her dreadful inter-
view with Jos Larkin was always in her mind. The
bleached face, so meek, so cruel, of that shabby spectre,
in the small, low parlor of Redman's Farm, was always
before her. There he had spoken the sentences which
made the earth tremble, and showed her distinctly the
cracking line beneath her feet, which would gape at his
word into the fathomless chasm that was to swallow her.
But, come what might, she would not abandon the Vicar
and his little boy, and good Dolly, to the arts of that
abominable magician.
The more she thought, the clearer was her conviction.
She had no one to consult with; she knew the risk of ex-
asperating that tall man of God, who lived at the Lodge.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 4Q9
But, determined to brave all, she went down to see Dolly
and the Vicar at home.
Poor Dolly was tired; she had been sitting up all night
with sick little Fairy. He was better to-day; but last
night he had frightened them so, poor little man! he be-
gan to rave about eleven o'clock; and more or less his
little mind continued wandering until near six, when he
fell into a sound sleep, and seemed better for it.
So Rachel first made her visit to little man, sitting up
in his bed, very pale and thin, and looking at her, not
with his pretty smile, but a languid, earnest wonder, and
not speaking. How quickly and strikingly sickness tells
upon children. Little man's frugal store of toys, chiefly
the gifts of pleasant Rachel, wild beasts, Noah and his sons,
and part of a regiment of foot soldiers, with the usual re-
turn of broken legs and missing arms, stood peacefully
mingled upon the board across his bed which served as a
platform.
But little man was leaning back: his fingers, once so
busy, lay motionless on the coverlet, and his tired eyes
rested on the toys with a joyless, earnest apathy.
"He looks better — a little better, don't you think;
just a little better?" whispered his mamma, looking as all
the rest were, on that wan, sad little face.
But he really looked worse.
"Well, he can't look better, you know, dear, till there's
a decided change. What does Doctor Buddle say?"
"He saw him yesterday morning. He thinks it is all
from his stomach, and he's feverish; no meat. Indeed he
won't eat anything, and you see the light hurts his eyes."
There was only a chink of the shutter open.
"Dolly, darling, you and nurse must be so tired sitting
up. I have a little wine at Redman's Farm. I got it,
you remember, more than a year ago, when Stanley said
18


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 411
Switzerland, and I have made up my mind to sell my
rent-charge on the Dulchester estate. It will produce,
Mr. Young says, a very large sum, and I wish to lend it
to you, either all or as much as will make you quite com-
fortable — you must not refuse. I had intended leaving
it to my dear little man up stairs; and you must promise
me solemnly that you will not listen to the advice of that
bad, cruel man, Mr. Larkin."
"My dear Miss Lake, you misunderstood him. But
what can I say — how can I thank you?" said the Vicar,
clasping her hand.
"A wicked and merciless man, I say," repeated Miss
Lake. "From my observation of him, I am certain of
two things — I am sure that he has some reason for think-
ing that your brother. Mark Wylder, is dead; and second-
ly, that he is himself deeply interested in the purchase of
your reversion. I feel a little ill: Dolly, open the win-
dow."
There was a silence for a little while, and Rachel re-
sumed : —
"Now, William Wylder, I am convinced, that you and
your wife (and she kissed Dolly,) and your dear little boy,
are marked out for plunder — the objects of a conspiracy;
and I'll lose my life, but I'll prevent it."
"Now, Willie dear, do you hear that — do you hear
what she says?"
"But Dolly darling — dear Miss Lake there is no
reason whatever to suppose that poor Mark is dead," said
the Vicar, very pale.
"I tell you again, I am convinced the attorney believes
it. He did not say so, indeed; but, cunning as ho is, I
think I've quite»seen through his plot; and even in what
he said to me, there was something that half betrayed him
every moment. And, Dolly, if you allow this sale, you


412 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
deserve the ruin you are inviting, and the remorse that
will follow you to your grave."
But respecting good Mr. Larkin, you are, indeed, in
error; I am sure you have quite misunderstood him. You
don't know how kind — how disinterestedly good he has
been; and now, my dear Miss Lake, it is too late — quite
too late."
"No; it is not too late. Such wickedness as that can-
not be lawful — I won't believe the law allows it," cried
Rachel Lake. "It is all a fraud — even if you have
signed — all' a fraud. You must procure able advice at
once. Your enemy is that dreadful Mr. Larkin. Write
to some good attorney in London. I'll pay everything."
"But, dear Miss Lake, I can't," said the Vicar, de-
jectedly; "I am bound in honor and conscience not to
disturb it —I have written to Messrs. Burlington and
Smith to that effect. I assure you, dear Miss Lake, we
have not acted inconsiderately — nothing has been done
without careful and deep consideration."
"I am going into the town, Dolly, and so are you,"
said Rachel, after a little pause. "Let us go together."
And to this Dolly readily assented; and the Vicar, evi-
dently much troubled in mind, having run up to the nurs-
ery to see his little man, the two ladies set out together.
Rachel saw that she had made an impression upon Dolly,
and was resolved to carry her point. So, in earnest terms,
again she conjured her, at least, to lay the whole matter
before some friend on whom she could rely; and Dolly,
alarmed and eager, quite agreed with Rachel, that the sale
must be stopped, and she would do whatever dear Rachel
bid her.
"But do you think Mr. Larkin really supposes that poor
Mark is dead?"
"I do, dear — I suspect he knows it."


414 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
the clumsiest dog in England — nothing clever — no in-
vention — only a bully — the people hate him. Wealdon'a
my man. I wish he'd give up that town-clerkship—it
can't be worth much, and it's in his way — I'd make it up
to him somehow. Will you just look at that — it's the
"Globe"—only six lines, and tell me what you make of
it?"
"It does look like it, certainly."
"Wealdon and I have jotted down a few names here,"
said Lake, sliding a list of names before me; "you know
some of them, I think — rather a strong committee; don't
you think BO? Those fellows with the red cross before
have promised."
"Yes; it's very strong —capital!" I said, crunching
my toast. "Is it thought the writs will follow the disso-
lution unusually quickly?"
"They must, unless they want a very late session. But
it is quite possible the Government may win — a week ago
they reckoned upon eleven."
And as we were talking the post arrived.
'' Here they are!" cried Lake, and grasping the first
morning paper he could seize on, he tore it open with
a greater display of energy than I had seen that languid
gentleman exhibit on any former occasion.
CHAPTER LXV.
LADY MACBETH.
"HERE it is," said the Captain. "Beaten " — " three
votes — how the devil was that ? — there it is by Jove —


WYLDER'S HAJVD.
no mistake — majority against ministers, three! Is that
the.' Times?' What does it say?"
"A long leader — no resignation — immediate dissolu-
tion. That is what I collect from it."
"How could they have miscalculated so? Swivell, I
see, voted in the majority; that's very odd; and, by
Jove, there's Surplice, too, and he's good for seven votes.
Why his own paper was backing the ministers! What a
fellow that is! That accounts for it all. A difference of
fourteen votes."
And thus we went on, discussing this unexpected turn
of luck and reading snatches of the leading articles in
different interests upon the subject.
Then Lake, recollecting his letters, opened a large-
sealed envelope, with S. C. G. in the corner.
"This is from Gybes — let us see. Oh! before the
division. 'It looks a little fishy,' he says — well, so it
does—' We may take the division to-night. Should it
prove adverse, you are to expect an immediate dissolu-
tion; this on the best authority. I write to mention this,
as I may be too much hurried to-morrow.'"
We were discussing this note when Wealdon arrived.
"Well, Captain; great news, sir. The best thing, I
take it, could have happened ministers, ha, ha, ha! A
rotten house — down with it — blow it up — three votes
only — but as good as three hundred, for the purpose —
of the three hundred, grant but three, you know — of
course, they don't think of resigning."
"Oh, dear, no — an immediate dissolution. Read
that," said Lake, tossing Gybes' note to him.
"Ho, then, we'll have the writs down hot and heavy.
We must be sharp. The sheriff's all right; that's a
point. You must not lose an hour in getting your com-
mittee together, and printing your address."
"Who's on the oiher side?"


416 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"You'll have Jennings, of course; but they are talk-
ing of four different men, already, to take Sir Harry Twis-
den's place. He'll resign; that's past a doubt now. He
"has his retiring address written; Lord Edward Mordun
read it; and he told FitzStephen on Sunday, after church,
that he'd never sit again."
"Here, by Jove, is a letter from Mowbray," said Lake,
opening it. "All about his brother George. Hears I'm
up for the county. Lord George ready to join and go
halves. What shall I say?"
"Could not have a better man. Tell him you desire
no better, and will bring it at once before your committee;
and let him know the moment they meet; and tell him 1
say he knows Wealdon pretty well — he may look on it
as settled. That will be u spoke in Sir Harry's wheel."
"Sir Harry who?" said Lake.
"Bracton. I think its only to spoil your game,-you
see," answered Wealdon.
"Abundance of malice; but I don't think he's coun-
tenanced?"
"He'll try to get the start of you; and if he does, one
or other must go to the wall; for Lord George is too
strong to be shook out. Do yon get forward at once;
that's your plan, Captain."
Then the Captain recurred to his letters, which were a
larger pack than usual this morning, chatting all the time
with Wealdon and me on the tremendous topic, and tossing
aside every letter that did not bear on the coming strug-
gle.
"Who can this be?" said Lake, looking at the address
of one of these. "Very like my hand," and he examined
the seal. It was only a large wafer-stamp, so he broke it
open, and drew out a shabby, very ill-written scroll. He
turned suddenly away, talking the while, but with his


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 417
eyes upon the note, and then he folded, or rather crump-
led it up, and stuffed it into his pocket, and continued his
talk; but it was now plain to me there was something more
on his mind, and he was thinking of the shabby letter he
had just received.
"But, no matter; the election was the pressing topic,
and Lake was soon engaged in it again.
As-I could be of no possible use in local details, I left
the council of war sitting, intending a stroll in the grounds.
In the hall, I met the mistress of the house, looking
very handsome, but with a certain witch-like beauty, very
pale, something a little haggard in her great, dark eyes,
and a strange, listening look. Was it watchfulness? was
it suspicion? She was dressed gravely but richly, and
received me kindly — and, strange to say, with a smile
that, yet, was not joyful.
"I hope she is happy. Lake is such a beast; I hope
he does not bully her."
In truth, there was in her exquisite features the traces
of that mysterious misery and fear which seemed to fall
wherever Stanley Lake's ill-omened confidences were giv-
en.
I walked down one of the long alleys, with tall, close
hedges of beech, as impenetrable as cloister walls to
sight, and watched the tench basking and flickering in the
clear pond, and the dazzling swans sailing majestically
along.
At the door of her boudoir, Rachel Lake met Dorcas.
"I am so glad, Radie, dear, you are come. You must
take off your things, and stay. You must not leave me
to-night. We'll send home for whatever you wan't; and
you won't leave me, Radie, I'm certain."
"I'll stay, dear, as you wish it," said Rachel, kissing
her.


418 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Did you see Stanley? I have not seen him to-day,"
said Dorcas.
"No, dear; I peeped into the library, but he was not
there; and there are two men writing in the Dutch room,
very busily."
"It must be about the election."
"What election, dear?" asked Rachel.
"There is going to be an election for the county, and
— only think — he intends coming forward. I sometimes
think he is mad, Badie."
"I could not have supposed such a thing. If I
were he, I think I should fly to the antipodes. I should
change my name, sear my features with vitriol, and learn
another language. I should obliterate my past self alto-
gether; but men are so different, so audacious — some
men, at least — and Stanley, ever since "his ill-omened ar-
rival at Redman's Farm, last autumn, has amazed and ter-
rified me."
"I think, Radio, we have both courage — yon have cer-
tainly; you have shown it, darling, and you must cease
to blame yourself. I think you a heroine, Radie; but
you know / see with the wild eyes of the Brandons."
"I am grateful, Dorcas, that you don't hate me. Most
women I am sure would abhor me — yes, Dorcas — abhor
me."
"You and I against the world, Radie!" said Dorcas,
with a wild smile and a dark admiration in her look, and
kissing Rachel again. "I used to think myself brave;
it belongs to women of our blood; but this is no common
strain upon courage, Radie. I've grown to fear Stanley
somehow like a ghost; I fear it is even worse than he
says," and she looked with a horrible enquiry into Rachel's
eyes.
"So do /, Dorcas," said Rachel, in a firm low whisper,
returning her look as darkly.


422 WYLDER'S HAJVJD.
of evil the moment I saw him — before the poor little man
was put to his bed."
Dorcas rang the bell.
"Now, Radie, if you wish to write, sit down here —
or if you prefer a message, Thomas can take one very
accurately; and he shall call at the Vicar's, and see Dolly,
and bring us word how the dear little boy is. And don't
fancy, darling, I have forgotten what you said to me about
duty — though I would call it differently — only I feel so
wild I can think of nothing clearly yet. But I am mak-
ing up my mind to a great and bold step, and when I am
better able, I will talk it over with you— my only friend,
Rachel."
And she kissed her.
CHAPTER LXVI.
MR. LARKIN IS VIS-A-VIS WITH A CONCEALED COMPANION.
THE time had now arrived when our friend Jos Larkin
was to refresh the village of Gylingden with his presence.
He had pushed matters forward with wonderful despatch.
The deeds, with their blue and silver stamps, were hand-
somely engrossed — having been approved in draft by
Crompton S. Kewes, the eminent Queen's Counsel, on a
case furnished by Jos Larkin, Esq. The Lodge, Brandon
Manor, Gylingden, on behalf of his client, the Reverend
William Wylder; and in like manner on behalf of Stan-
ley Williams Brandon Lake, of Brandon Hall, in the
county of—, Esq.
In neither draft did Jos Larkin figure as the purchaser
by name. He did not care for advice on any difficulty


WYLDER'S HAjYD. 423
depending on his special relations to the vendors in both
these cases. He wished, as was his custom, everything
above-board, and such " an opinion" as might be published
by either client in the " Times" next day if he pleased it.
Besides these matters of Wylder and of Lake, he had
also a clause to insert in a private Act, on behalf of the
trustees of the Baptist Chapel, at Naunton Friars; a
short deed to be consulted upon on behalf of his client,
Pudder Swynfen, Esq. of Swynfen Grange, in the same
county; and a deed to be executed at Shillingsworth,
which he would take en route for Gylingden, stopping
there for that night, and going on by next morning's train
Those little trips to town paid very fairly.
In this particular case his entire expenses reached ex-
actly 51. 3s. and what do you suppose was the good man's
profit upon that small item? Precisely 621. Is.! The
process is simple. Jos Larkin made his own handsome
estimate of his expenses, and the value of his time to and
from London, and then he charged this in its entirety —
shall we say integrity — to each client separately. It
might have cost him 1 '">/. 10*. and at that sum his expen-
ses figured in his ledger; and as he had five clients on
this occasion, the total reached 611. 10s. leaving a clear
profit, as I have mentioned, of 621. 7s. on this item.
Jos Larkin, Esq. was as punctual as the clock, at the
terminus. He did not come a minute too soon or too late,
but precisely at the moment which enabled him, without
fuss, and without a tiresome wait, to proceed to the de-
tails of ticket, luggage, selection of place, and ultimate
ascension thereto.
So now having taken all measures, gliding among the
portmanteaus, hand-barrows, and porters, and the clangor-
ous bell ringing, he mounted, lithe and lank, into his
place.


424 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
There was a pleasant evening light still, and the gas-
lamps made a purplish glow against it. The little batter-
cooler of a glass lamp glimmered from the roof. Mr. Lar-
kin established himself, and adjusted his rug and mufflers
about him, for notwithstanding the season, there had been
some cold, rainy weather, and the evening was sharp;
and he set his two newspapers, his shilling book, and oth-
er triumphs of cheap literature in sundry shapes, in the
vacant seat at his left hand, and made everything hand-
some about him. He glanced to the other end of the car-
riage, where sat his solitary fellow-passenger. This gen-
tleman was simply a mass of cloaks and capes, culminat-
ing in a queer battered felt hat; his shoulders were nes-
tled into the corner, and his face buried among his loose
mufflers. They sat at corners diagonally opposed, and
were, therefore, as far apart as was practicable — an ar-
rangement, not sociable, to be sure, but, on the whole,
very comfortable, and which neither seemed disposed to
disturb.
Mr. Larkin had a word to say to the porter from the
window, and bought one more newspaper; and then looked
out on the lamp-lit platform, and saw the officials loiter-
ing off to the clang of the carriage doors; then came the
whistle, and then the clank and jerk of the start.
Jos Larkin tried his< newspaper, and read for ten min-
utes, or so, pretty diligently; and then looked for a while
from the window, upon receding hedge-rows and farm-
steads, and the level and spacious landscape; and then he
leaned back luxuriously, his newspaper listlessly on his
knees, and began to read, instead, at his ease, the shape-
less, wrapt-up figure diagonally opposite.
The quietude of the gentleman in the far corner was
quite singular. He produced neither tract, nor newspa-
per, nor volume — not even a pocket book or a letter. He


428 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
a deed with him to be executed in that town, and so sweet-
ening his journey with this small incident of profit.
Now, therefore, looking at his watch, and consulting his
time-table, he got his slim valise from under on top of
the seat before him, together with his hat-case, despatch-
box, stick, and umbrella, and brushed off with his hand-
kerchief some of the gritty railway dust that lay drifted
in exterior folds and hollows of his coat, rebuttoned that
garment with precision, arranged his shirt-collar, stuffed
his mufHer into his coat-pocket, and made generally that
rude sacrifice to the graces with which natty men precede
their exit from the dust and ashes of this sort of sepulture.
At this moment he had just eight minutes more to go,
and the glitter of the pair of eyes, staring between the
muffler and the rim of the hat met his view once more.
Mr. Larkin's cigar-case was open in his hand in a mo-
ment, and with such a smile as a genteel perfumer offers his
wares with, he presented it toward the gentleman who was
built up in the stack of garments.
He merely shook his head with the slightest imaginable
nod and a wave of a pudgy hand in a soiled dog-skin
glove, which emerged for a second from under a cape, in
token that he gratefully declined the favor.
Mr. Larkin smiled and shrugged regretfully, and re-
placed the case in his coat pocket. Hardly five minutes
remained now. Larkin glanced round for a topic.
"My journey is over for the present, sir, and perhaps
you would find these little things entertaining."
And he tendered with the same smile "Punch," the
"Penny Gleaner," and "Gray's Magazine," a religious
serial. They were, however, similarly declined in pan-
tomime.
"He's not particularly polite,-whoever he is," thought
Mr. Larkin, with a sniff. However he tried the effect of


480 WYLDER'S H.WD.
"Forgot summat, sir," said the porter, touching his hat.
"Yes — signal — stop him, can you?"
The porter only scratched his head, under his cap, and
smiled sheepishly after the train. Jos Larkin knew, the
next moment, he had talked nonsense.
"I — I — yes — I have — have you an engine here ? —
express —I'll pay anything."
But, no, there was no "engine — not nearer than the
junction, and she might not be spared."
"How far is the junction?"
"Nineteen and a-half."
"Nineteen miles! They'll never bring me there, by
horse, under two hours, they are so cursed tedious. Why
have not you a spare engine at a place like this? Shillings-
worth! Nice management! Are you certain? Where's
the station-master?"
All this time he kept staring after the faint pulsations
on the air that indicated the flight of the engine.
But it would not do. The train — the image upon
earth of the irrevocable, the irretrievable — was gone
neither to be overtaken nor recalled. The telegraph, was
not then, as now, whispering secrets all over England, at
the rate of two hundred miles a second, and five shillings
per twenty words. Larkin would have given large money
for an engine, to get up with the train that was now some
five miles on its route, at treble, quadruple, the common
cost of such a magical appliance; but all was vain. He
could only look and mutter after it wildly. Vain to con-
jecture for what station that traveler in the battered hat
was bound! Idle speculation! Mere distraction!
Only that Mr. Larkin was altogether the man he was,
I think he would have cursed freely.


CHAPTER LXVIII.
OF A SPECTRE TVHOM OLD TAMAR SAW.
LITTLE FAIRY, all this while, continued, in our Church
language, "sick and weak." The Vicar was very sorry,
but not afraid. His little man was so bright and merry,
that he seemed to him the very spirit of life. He could
not dream of his dying. It was sad, to be sure, the little
man so many days in his bed, too languid to care for toy
or story, quite silent, except when, in the night time, those
weird monologues began which showed that the fever had
reached his brain. The tones of his pleasant little voice,
in those sad flights of memory and fancy, busy with familiar
scenes and occupations, sounded wild and plaintive in his
ear. And when " Wapsie " was mentioned, sometimes the
Vicar's eyes filled, but he smiled through this with a kind of
gladness at the child's affection. "It will soon be over,
my darling! You will be walking with Wapsie in a week
again."
Doctor Buddle had been six miles away that evening
with a patient, and looked in at the Vicar's long after the
candles were lighted.
He was not satisfied with little Fairy — not at all sat-
isfied. He put his hand under the clothes and felt his
thin, slender limbs — thinner than ever now. Dry and
very hot they were — and little man babbling his nonsense
about little boys, and his " Wapsie," and toys, and birds,
and the mill-stream, and the church-yard — of which,
with so strange a fatality, children, not in romance only,
but reality, so often prattle in their feverish wanderings.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. . 435
Perhaps the Vicar was thinking of the church-yard,
and how he would like, when his time came, to lie beside
the golden-haired little comrade of his walks. So Dolly
despatched the messenger with a lantern, and thus it was
there came a knocking at the door of Redman's Farm at
that unseasonable hour. For some time old Tamar heard
the clatter in her sleep, disturbing and mingling with her
dreams. But in a while she wakened quite, and heard the
double knocks one after another in quick succession; and
huddling on her clothes, and muttering to herself all the
way, she got into the hall, and standing a couple of yards
away from the door, answered in shrill and querulous
tones, and questioning the messenger in the same breath.
How could she tell what it might or might not portend?
Her alarms quickly subsided, however, for she knew the
voice well.
So the story was soon told. Poor little Fairy; it was
doubtful if he was to see another morning; and the maid
being wanted at home, old Tamar undertook the message
to Brandon Hall, where her young mistress was, and sal-
lied forth in her cloak and bonnet, under the haunted trees
of Redman's Dell.
Her route.lay, as by this time my reader is well aware,
by that narrow defile reached from Redman's Farm by a
pathway which scales a flight of rude steps, the same
which Stanley Lake and his sister had mounted on the
night of Mark Wylder's disappearance.
Tamar knew the path very well. It was on the upper
level of it that she had held that conference with Stanley
Lake, which obviously referred to that young gentleman's
treatment of the vanished Mark. As she came to this
platform, round which the trees receded a little so as to
admit the moonlight, the old woman was tired.
She would have gladly chosen another spot to rest in,


436 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
but fatigue was imperious; and she sat down under the
grey stone which stood perpendicularly there, on what had
once been the step of a stile, leaning against the rude col-
umn behind her.
As she sat here she heard the clank of a step approach-
ing measuredly from the Brandon side. It was twelve
o'clock now; the chimes from the Gylingden cljurch-tower
had proclaimed that in the distance some minutes before.
The honest Gylingden folk seldom heard the tower chimes
tell eleven, and gentle and simple had, of course, been
long in their beds.
The old woman had a secret hatred of this place, and
the unexpected sounds made her hold her breath. She
peeped round the stone, in whose shadow she was sitting.
The steps were not those of a man walking briskly with,
a purpose; they were the desultory strides of a stroller
lounging out an hour's watch. The steps approached.
The figure was visible — that of a short broadish man,
with a mass of cloaks, rugs, and mufflers across his arm.
Carrying them with a sort of swagger, he came slowly
up to the part of the pathway opposite to the pillar,
where he dropped those draperies in a heap upon the grass;
and availing .himself of the clear moon-light, he stopped
nearly confronting her.
It was the face of Mark Wylder — she knew it well —
but grown fat and broader, and there was — but this she
could not see distinctly — a purplish scar across his eye-
brow and cheek. She quivered with terror lest he should
have seen her, and might be meditating some mischef.
But she was seated close to the ground, several yards
away, and in the sharp shadow of the old block of stone.
He consul ted his watch, and she sat fixed and powerless
as a portion of the block on which she leaned, staring up
at this, to her, terrific apparition. Mark Wylder's return
boded, she believed, something tremendous.


WPLDER'S HAJVD. 437-
She saw the glimmer of the gold watch, and, distinctly,
the great black whiskers, and the face pallid in the moon-
light. She was afraid for a minute, during which he loi-
tered there, that he was going to seat himself upon the
cloaks which he had just thrown upon the ground, and
felt that she could not possibly escape detection for many
seconds more. But she was relieved; for, after a short
pause, leaving these still upon the ground, he turned,
and walked slowly, like a policeman on his beat, toward
Brandon.
With a gasp she began to recover herself; but she felt
too faint and ill to get up and commence a retreat towards
Redman's Farm. Besides, she was sure he would return
— she could not tell how soon — and although the clump
of alders hid her from view, she could not tell but that
the next moment would disclose his figure retracing his
leisurely steps, and ready to pursue and overtake, if by a
precipitate movement she had betrayed her presence.
In due time the same figure, passing at the same rate,
did -emerge again, and approached just as before, only this
time he was carelessly examining some small but clumsy
steel instrument which glittered occasionally in the light.
From Tamar's description of it, I conclude it was a re-
rolver.
He passed the pile of cloaks but a few steps, and again
turned toward Brandon. So soon as ho was once more
concealed by the screen of underwood, old Tamar, now
sufficiently recovered, crept hurriedly away in the opposite
direction, half dead with terror, until she had descended
the steps, and was buried once more in friendly darkness.
Old Tamar did not stop at Redman's Farm; she passed it
and the mills, and never stopped till she reached the
Vicarage. In the hall, she felt for a moment quite over-
powered, and sitting in one of the old chairs that did duty


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 439
write, and promise, if you send for her, she shall get the
note."'
So, Dolly made the promise, and bringing old Tamar
with her into the study, penned these odd lines from her
dictation, merely adjusting the grammar.
"Miss RADIE, DEAR,— If coming down to-night from
Brandon, this is to tell you, it is as much as your life is
worth to pass the Blackberry walk above the steps. My
old eyes have seen him there, walking back and forward,
lying at catch for some one, this night — the great enemy
of man; you can suppose in what shape.
"Your dutiful and loving servant,
"TAMAR."
So, old Tamar, after a little, took her departure; and it
needed a great effort to enable her to take the turn up the
dark and lonely mill-road, leading to Redman's Farm; so
much did she dread the possibility of again encountering
the person she had just described.
CHAPTER LXIX.
THE MEETING IN THE LONG POND ALLEY.
I SUPPOSE there were few waking heads at this hour in
all the wide parish of Gylingden, though many a usually
idle one was now busy enough about the great political
struggle which was to muster its native forces, both in
borough and county, and agitate these rural regions with
the roar and commotion of civil strife.


442 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
stealthily drawn, and then the handle of the spring-lock
turned, and the door cautiously opened, and as gently
closed.
Mr. Larcom's fears now naturally subsided, and curiosity
as naturally supervened. He drew near his window; and
it was well he had extinguished his lights, for as he did so,
Captain Lake's light figure, in a gray paletot and cloth
cap, glided by like a spirit in the faint moonlight.
Mr. Larcom had no theory whatsoever to account for
this procedure on the part of his master. It must be
something very extraordinary, and well worth investigating
— of course, for the benefit of the family — which could
have evoked the apparition which had just crossed his
window. With his eyes close to the window pane, he saw
his master glide swiftly along the short terrace which
covers this side of the house, and disappear down the steps,
like a spectre sinking into the earth.
It is a meeting, thought Mr. Larcom, taking courage,
for he already felt something of the confidence and supe-
riority of possessing a secret; and as quickly as might
be, the trustworthy man, with his latch-key in his pocket,
softly opened the portal through which the object of his
anxiety had just emerged, closed the door behind him, and
stood listening intently in the recess of the entrance,
where he heard the now more careless step of the
Captain, treading, as he thought, the broad yew-walk,
which turns at a right angle at the foot of the terrace
step. The black yew hedge was a perfect screen.
Here was obviously presented a chance of obtaining the
command of a secret of greater or less importance. It
was a considerable stake to play for, and well worth a
trifling risk.
Therefore, with decision and caution, he followed Cap-
tain Lake's march, and reaching the yew-walk, he saw the


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 443
slim figure in the cap and paletot turn the corner, and
enter the broad walk between the two wall-like beech
hedges, which led direct to the first artificial pond — a
long, narrow parallelogram, round which the broad walk
passed in two straight lines, fenced with the towering
beech hedges, shorn as smooth as the walls of a nunnery.
When the butler reached the point at which Captain
Lake had turned, he found himself all at once within fifty
steps of that eccentric gentleman, who was talking, but
in so low a tone, that not even the sound of the voices
reached him, with rather a short, broad-shouldered person,
buttoned up in a surtout, and wearing a queer, German-
esque, felt hat, battered and crushed a good deal.
Mr. Larcom held his breath. He was profoundly inter-
ested. After a while, with an oath, he exclaimed —
"That's him!"
Then, after another pause he gasped another oath : —
"It is him!"
The square-built man in the surtout had a great pair
of black whiskers; and as he stood opposite Lake, convers-
ing, with, now and again, an earnest gesture", he showed a
profile which Mr. Larcom knew very well; and now they
turned and walked slowly side by side along the broad
walk by that perpendicular wall of crisp brown leaves, he
recognised also a certain hitch in his shoulder. which
made him swear and asseverate again.
He would have given something to hear what was pass-
ing. He thought uneasily whether there might not be a
side-path or orifice anywhere through which he might
creep so as to get to the other side of the hedge and lis-
ten. But there was no way, and he must rest content
with such report as his eyes might furnish.
"They're not quarrelling no ways," murmured he.
And indeed, they walked together, stopping now and


444 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
again, as it seemed, very amicably. Captain Lake seemed
to have moat to say.
"He's awful cowed, he is; I never did think to see Mr.
Wylder so affeard of Lake; he is affeard, yes he is —
that he is."
And indeed there was an indescribable air of subservi-
ence in the demeanor of the square-built gentleman very
different from what Mark Wylder once showed.
He saw the Captain take from the pocket of his paletot
a square box or packet, it might be jewels or only papers,
and hand them to his companion, who popped them into
his left-hand surtout pocket, and kept his hand there as
if the freightage were specially valuable.
Then they talked earnestly a little longer, standing to-
gether by the pond; and then, side-by-side, they paced
down the broad walk by its edge. It was a long walk.
Honest Larcom would have followed if there had been any
sort of cover to hide his advance; but there being nothing
of the kind he was fain to abide at his corner. Thence
he beheld them come at last slowly to a stand-still, talk
evidently a little more, and finally they shook hands — an
indefinable something still of superiority in Lake's air —
and parted.
The Captain was now all at once walking at a swift
pace, alone, towards Larcom's post of observation, and his
secret confederate nearly as rapidly in an opposite direc-
tion. It would not do for the butler to be taken or even
seen by Lake, nor yet to be left at the outside of the door
and barred out. So the Captain had hardly commenced
his homeward walk, when Larcom, though no great runner,
threw himself into an agitated amble, and reached and
entered the little door just in time to escape observation.
He had not been two minutes in his apartment again when
he once more beheld the figure of his master cross the


WYLDER'S HrfJfD. 445
window, and heard the small door softly opened and closed,
and the bolts slowly and cautiously drawn again into their
places. Then there was a pause. Lake was listening to
ascertain whether anyone was stirring, and being satisfied,
reascended the stairs, leaving the stout and courteous but-
ler ample matter for romantic speculation.
It was now the butler's turn to listen, which he did at
the half-opened door of his room. When he was quite
assured that all was quiet, he shut and bolted his door,
closed the window-shutters. and relighted his pair of wax
candles.
Mr. Larcom was a good deal excited. He had seen
strange things that night. He was a good deal blown and
heated by his run, and a little wild and scared at the
closeness of the Captain's unconscious pursuit. His head
beside was full of amazing conjectures. After a while he
took his crumpled letter from his pocket, unfolded and
smoothed it, and wrote upon a blank half-page —
"RESPECTED SIR, — Since the above i ave a much to
tel mos surprisen, the gentleman you wer anceous of tid-
ing mister M. W. is cumprivet, and him and master met
tonite nere 2 in morning, in the long pond allee, so is
near home when we supposed, no more at present sir from
"your humbel servent JOHN
"LARCOM.
"i shall go to dolington day arter to-morrow by eleven
o'clock trane if you ere gong, sir."
When the attorney returned, between eleven and twelve
o'clock next morning, this letter awaited him. It did
not, of course, surprise him, but it conclusively corrobo-
rated all its inferences.


446 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Here had been Mark Wylder. He had stopped at Dol-
lington, as the attorney suspected he would, and he had
kept tryst, in the Brandon grounds, with sly Captain Lake,
whose relations with him it became now more difficult
than ever clearly to comprehend.
Wylder was plainly under no physical coercion. He
had come and gone unattended. For one reason or other
he was, at least, as strongly interested as Lake in main-
taining secrecy.
That Mark Wylder was living was the grand fact with
which he had just then to do. How near he had been to
purchasing the Vicar's reversion! The engrossed deeds
lay in the black box there. And yet it might be all true
about Mark's secret marriage. At that moment there
might be a whole rosary of sons, small and great, to in-
tercept the inheritance; and the Reverend William Wyl-
der might have no more chance of the estates than he
had of the crown.
CHAPTER LXX.
SIR HARRY BRACTON'S INVASION OF GYLINGDEN.
JIM BUTTON had not turned up since, and his letter was
one of those mares' nests of which gentlemen in Mr. Lar-
kin's line of business have so large an experience. Of
Mark Wylder not a trace was discoverable. His enquir-
ies on this point were, of course, conducted with caution
and remoteness. Gylingden, however, was one of those
places which, if it knows anything, is sure to find a way
of telling it, and the attorney was soon satisfied that Mark's
secret visit had been conducted with sufficient caution to
baffle the eyes and ears of the good folk of the town.


WYLDER'S HAjVD. 447
Well, one thing was plain. The purchase of the re-
version was to wait, and fraudulent as was the price at
which he had proposed to buy it, he was now resolved to
get it for less than half that sum, and he wrote a short
note to the Vicar, which he forthwith despatched.
In the meantime there was not a moment to be lost in
clenching the purchase of Five Oaks. And Mr. Jos Lar-
kin, with one of his "young men" with him in the
tax-cart, reached Brandon Hall in a marvellously short
time after his arrival at home.
Jos Larkin, his clerk, and the despatch-box, had a short
wait in the Dutch room, before his admission to the library,
where an animated debate was audible. The tremendous
contest impending over the county was of course the
theme. In the Butch room, where they waited, there was
a large table, with a pyramid of blank envelopes in the
middle, and ever so many cubic feet of canvassing circu-
lars, six chairs, and pens and ink. The clerks were in
the housekeeper's room at that moment, partaking of re-
freshment. There was a gig in the court-yard, with a
groom at the horse's head, and Larkin, as he drew up,
saw a chaise driving round to the stable yard. People of
all sorts were coming and going, and Brandon Hall was
already growing like an inn.
"How d'ye do, dear Larkin?" said Captain Brandon
Stanley Lake, the hero of all this debate and commotion,
smiling his customary sly greeting, and extending his slim
hand across the arm of his chair —" I'm so sorry you
were away — this thing has come after all, so suddenly —
we are getting on famously though — but I'm awfully
fagged." And, indeed, he looked pale and tired, though
smiling. "I've a lot of fellows with me; they've just
run into luncheon; won't you take something?"
But Jos Larkin, smiling after his sort, excused himself.


450 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
may I beg that you will not hesitate ta say how. I re-
main, my dear and reverend sir, with profound regrets
and sympathy, yours very sincerely,
"Jos. H. LARKIN."
He had already imported the H. which was to germinate,
in a little while, into Howard.
The screw was now twisted pretty well home upon the
poor Vicar, who, if he had any sense at all, would, re-
membering Larkin's expression only a week before, sug-
gest his buying, and so, the correspondence would disclose,
in a manner most honorable to the attorney, the history
of the purchase.
But the clouds had begun to break, and the sky to clear,
over the good Vicar, just at the point where they had
been darkest and most menacing.
Little Fairy, after all, was better. Good-natured Bud-
dle had been there at nine, quite amazed at his being so
well, still reserved and cautious, and afraid of raising
hopes. But when he came back at eleven, and had com-
pleted his examination, he told them, frankly, that there
was a decided change; in fact, that the little man, with,
of course, great care, might do very well, and ought to
recover, if nothing went wrong. •
Honest Buddle was delighted. He chuckled over the
little man's bed. He could not suppress his grins. He
was a miracle of a child! By George, it was the most
extraordinary case he had ever met with! It was all
that bottle, and that miraculous child; they seemed made
for one another. From two o'clock last night, the action
of his skin has commenced, and never ceased since. When
he was here last night, the little fellow's pulse was a hun-
dred and forty-four, and now down to ninety-seven!
The Doctor grew jocular; and who can resist a doctor's


452 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
had a couple of flags, and some music. It was "a
regular, planned thing; " for the Queen's Bracton people
had been dropping in an hour before. The shopkeepers
were shutting their windows. Sir Harry was '' chaffing
the Capting," and hitting him very hard "for a hupstart"
— and, in fact, Crump was more particular in reporting
the worthy Baronet's language than was absolutely ne-
cessary. And it was thought that Sir Harry was going
to canvass the town.
The Captain was very much obliged, indeed, and begged
they would go into the parlor, and take luncheon; and,
forthwith, Wealdon took the command. The gamekeepers,
the fifty haymakers in the great meadow, they were to
enter the town from the top of Church-street, where they
were to gather all the boys and blackguards they could.
The men from the gas-works, the masons, and blacksmiths,
were to be marched in by Luke Samways. Tom Wealdon
would, himself, in passing, give the men at the coal-works
a hint. Sir Harry's invasion was the most audacious
thing on record; and it was incumbent on Gylingden to
make his defeat memorably disgraceful and disastrous.
His barouche was to be smashed, and burnt on the green;
his white topcoat and hat were to clothe the effigy, which
was to swing over the bonfire. The captured Bracton
banners were to hang in the coffee-room of the "Silver
Lion," to inspire the roughs. What was to become of
the human portion of the hostile pageant, Tom, being an
official person, did not choose to hint.
All these, and fifty-minor measures, were ordered by
the fertile Wealdon in a minute, and suitable messengers
on the wing to see after them. The Captain, accompanied
by Mr. Jekyl, myself, and a couple of the grave scriveners
from the next room, where to go by the back approach
and Redman's Dell to the Assembly Rooms, which Crump


454 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
young one, shied, stopped short, recoiling on its haunches,
and snorted fiercely into the air. At the same time, the
two dogs which had accompanied us began to bark furiously
beneath in the ravine.
Lake plunged the spurs into his beast, which reared so
straight that she toppled backward toward the edge of the
ravine.
"Strike her on the head; jump off," shouted Wealdon.
But he did neither.
"D— it! put her head down; lean forward," bellowed
Wealdon again.
But it would not do. With a crash among briars, and
a heavy thump from beneath that shook the earth, the mare
and her rider went over. A shout of horror broke from
us all; and Jekyl, watching the catastrophe, was very
near pulling our horse over the edge, and launching us al-
together, like the Captain, into the defile.
In a moment more we were all on the ground, and
scrambling down the side of the ravine, among rocks,
boughs, brambles, and ferns, in the deep shadows of the
gorge, the dogs still yelling furiously from below.
"Here he is," cried Jekyl. "How are you, Lake?
Much hurt, old boy? By Jove, he's killed, I think."
Lake lay about twelve feet below the edge. The
mare, now lying near the bottom of the gorge, had, I
believe, fallen upon him, and then tumbled over.
Strange to say, Lake was conscious, and in a few seconds,.
he said, in reply to the horrified" questions of his friend —
"I'm all smashed. Don't move me;" and, in a minute
more —" Don't mind that d—d brute; she's killed. Let
her lie."
It appeared very odd, but so it was, he appeared eager
upon this point, and, faint as he was, almost savage.
Wealdon and I, however, scrambled down the bank.


460 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
When William Wylder heard the news, he fainted; not
altogether through horror or grief, though he felt both;
but the change in his circumstances was so amazing and
momentous. It was a strange shock — immense relief1—
immense horror — quite overwhelming.
Mark had done some good-natured things for him in a
small five-pound way; he had promised him that loan,
too, which would have lifted him out of his Slough of
Despond, and he clung with an affectionate gratitude to
these exhibitions of brotherly love. Besides, he had ac-
customed himself— to regard Mark in the light of a great
practical genius — he knew men so thoroughly — he un-
derstood the world so marvellously! The Vicar was not
in the least surprised when Mark came in for a fortune.
He had always predicted that Mark must become very
rich, and that nothing but indolence could prevent his ul-
timately becoming a very great man. The sudden and
total disappearance of so colossal an object was itself amaz-
ing-
There was another person very strongly, though differ-
ently, affected by the news. Under pretext of business
at Naunton, Jos Larkin had driven off early to Five Oaks,
to make inspection of his purchase. He dined like a king
in disguise, at the humble little hostelry of Naunton
Friars, and returned in the twilight to the Lodge, which
he would make the dower-house of Five Oaks, with the
Howard shield over the door. He was gracious to his do-
mestics, but the distance was increased: he was nearer to
the clouds, and they looked smaller.
"Well, Mrs. Smithera," said he, encouragingly, his
long feet on the fender, for the evening was sharp, and
Mrs. S. knew that he liked a bit of fire at his tea — " any
letters — any calls — any news stirring?"
"No letters, nor calls, sir, please, except the butcher's
book. I s'pose, sir, you were viewing the body?"


WYLDER'S HJJVD. 461
"What body?"
"Mr. Wylder's, please, sir."
"The V icar !" exclaimed Mr. Larkin, his smile of con-
descension suddenly vanishing.
"No, sir; Mr. Mark Wylder, please; the gentleman,
sir, as was to 'av married Miss Brandon."
"What the devil do you mean, woman ?" ejaculated the
attorney, his back to the fire, standing erect, and a black
shadow over his amazed and offended countenance.
"Beg yonr pardon, sir; but his body's bin found, sir."
"You mean Mr. Mark?"
"Yes, please, sir; in a hole near the mill road — it's
up in the " Silver Lion" now, sir."
"It must be the Vicar's— it must," said Jos Larkin,
getting his hat on, sternly, and thinking how likely he
was to throw himself into the mill race, and impossible it
was that Mark, whom he and Larcom had both seen alive
and well last night — the latter, indeed, this morning —
could possibly be the man. And thus confronting him-
self, he met old Major Jackson on the green, and that
gentleman's statement ended with the words: "and in an
advanced stage of decomposition."
"That settles the matter," said Larkin, breathing
again, and with a toss of his head, and almost a smile of
disdain: "for I saw Mr. Mark Wylder late last night at
Shillingsworth."
Leaving Major Jackson in considerable surprise, Mr.
Larkin walked off to Edwards' dwelling, at the top of
Church Street, and found that active policeman at home.
In his cool, grand, official way, Mr. Larkin requested Mr.
Edwards to accompany him to the " Silver Lion," where,
in the same calm and commanding way, he desired him to
attend him to view the corpse. In virtue of his relation
to Mark Wylder, and of his position as sole resident legal
practitioner, he was obeyed.


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 455
dangerous. He said he had a bad bruise under his ribs,
and a sprained wrist, and was a little bit shaken: and he
talked of his electioneering as only suspended for a day
or two.
Buddle, however, thought the case so imminent, that on
his way to the "Brandon Arms," meeting Larkin, going,
attended by his clerk, again to the Vicar's house, he stop-
ped him for a moment, and told him what had passed, add-
ing, that Lake was so frightfully injured, that he might
begin to sink at any moment, and that by next evening,
at all events, he might not be in a condition to make a
deposition.
"It is odd enough — very odd," said Larkin. "It was
only an hour since, in conversation with our policeman,
Edwards, that I mentioned the fact of my having myself
traveled from London to Shillingsworth last night with Mr.
Mark Wylder, who went on by train in this direction, I
presume, to meet our unfortunate friend, Captain Lake, by
appointment. Thomas Sleddon, of Wadding Hall — at
this moment in the "Brandon Arms " — is just the man;
if you mention it to him, he'll go up with you to Red-
man's Farm, and take the deposition. Let it be a de-
position, do you mind; a statement is mere hearsay."
Comforted somewhat, reassured in a certain way, and in
strong hopes that, at all events, such a muddle would be
established as to bewilder the jury, Mr. Jos Larkin, with
still an awful foreboding weighing at his heart, knocked
at the Vicar's door, and was shown into the study. A
solitary candle being placed, to make things bright and
pleasant for the visitor, who did not look so himself, the
Vicar, very pale, and appearing to have grown even thin-
ner since he last saw him, entered, and shook his hand
with an anxious attempt at a smile, which faded almost
instantly.
20»


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 469
her at Redman's Farm. It was a frank and passionate
denial of the slander, breathing undefinably, but irresisti-
bly, the spirit of truth.
"Then am I to understand, in conclusion," said the
attorney, "that defying all consequences, the Rev. Mr.
Wylder refuses to execute the deed of sale?"
"Certainly," said Lord Chelford, taking this reply upon
himself.
"You know, my dear Mr. Wylder, I told you from the
first that Messrs. Burlington and Smith were, in fact, a
very sharp house; and I fear they will execute any powers
they possess in the most summary manner." The Attor-
ney's eye was upon the Vicar as he spoke, but Lord Chel-
ford answered.
"The powers you speak of are quite without parallel
in a negotiation to purchase; and in the event of their
hazarding such a measure, the Rev. Mr. Wylder will ap-
ply to a court of equity to arrest their proceedings. My
own solicitor is retained in the case."
Mr. Larkin's countenance darkened and lengthened
visibly, and his eyes assumed their most unpleasant ex-
pression, and there was a little pause, during which, for-
getting his lofty ways, he bit his thumb-nail rather vi-
ciously.
"Then I am to understand, my Lord, that I am super-
seded in the management of this case?" said the attorney
at last, in a measured way, which seemed to say, "you
had better think twice on this point."
"Certainly, Mr. Larkin," said the Viscount.
"I'm not the least surprised, knowing, I am sorry to
say, a good deal of the ways of the world, and expecting
very little gratitude, for either good will or services."
This was accompanied with a melancholy sneer directed
full upon the poor Vicar, who did not half understand the
situation, and looked rather guilty and frightened. "The


WYLDER'S HAJVD. 477
be saved. She made him return; she even accompanied
him as far as the top of the rude flight of steps, I have
mentioned so often, and there awaited his return — the
condition imposed by his cowardice — and made more
dreadful by tho circumstance that they had heard retreat-
ing footsteps along tho walk, and Stanley saw the tall
figure of Uncle Julius, or Lome, as he called himself,
turning the far corner.
There was a long wait here, lest he should return; but
he did not appear, and Stanley — though I now believe
observed by this strange being — executed his horrible
task, replaced the implements, and returned to Rachel,
and with her to Redman's Farm; where — his cool cun-
ning once more ascendant — he penned those forgeries,
closing them with Mark Wylder's seal, which he compelled
his sister to post in London — quite unconscious of all
but that their despatch by post, at the periods pencilled
upon them, was essential to her wretched brother's escape.
It was the success of this, his first stratagem, which sug-
'gested that long series of frauds which, with the aid of
Jim Button, selected for his striking points of resemblance
to Mark Wylder, had been carried on with such consum-
mate art in a different field.
It was Lake's ungoverned fury, when Larkin discover-
ed the mistake in posting the letters in wrong succession,
which so nearly exploded his ingenious system. He wrote
in terms which roused Jim Button's wrath. Jim had been
spinning theories about the reasons of his mysterious,
though very agreeable occupation, and announced them
broadly in his letter to Larkin. But he had cooled by
the time he reached London, and the letter from Lake, re-
ceived at his mother's, and appointing the meeting at Bran-
don, quieted that mutiny.
I never heard that Jim gave any member of the family
the least trouble afterward. He handed to Lord Chelford


478 WVLDER'S HAJVD.
a parcel of those clever and elaborate forgeries. with which
Lake had last furnished him, with a pencilled note on
each, directing the date and town at "which it was to be
despatched. Years after, when Jim was emigrating, I
believe Lord Cbelford gave him a handsome present.
Lord Chelford was advised by the friend whom he con-
sulted that he need not make those painful particulars
public, affecting only a dead man, and leading to no result.
Lake admitted that Rachel had posted the letters in
London, believing them to be genuine, for he pretended
that they were Wylder's. It is easy to look grave over
poor Rachel's-slight, and partly unconscious, share in the
business of the tragedy. But what girl of energy and
strong affections would have had the melancholy courage
to surrender her brother to public justice under the cir-
cumstances? Lord Chelford, who knew all, says that
she "acted nobly.''
The good Vicar is a great territorial magnate now; but
his pleasures and all his ways are still simple. He never
would enter Brandon as its master, and never will, during
Dorcas Brandon's lifetime. And although with her friend,
Rachel Lake, she lives abroad, chiefly in Italy 'and Swit-
zerland, Brandon Hall, by the command of its proprietor,
lies always at her disposal.
I don't know whether Rachel Lake will ever.marry.
The tragic shadow of her life has not chilled Lord Chel-
ford's strong affection. Neither does the world know or
suspect anything of the matter. Old Tamar died three
years since, and lies in the pretty little churchyard of
Gylingden. And Mark's death is, by this time, a nearly
forgotten mystery.
Jos Larkin's speculations have not turned out luckily.
The trustees of Wyltler, a minor, tried, as they were ad-
vised they must, his title to Five Oaks, by ejectment. A
point had been overlooked — as sometimes happens — and


480 WYLDER'S HJUVD.
Mr. Jos Larkin had a holy reliance upon bis religious
reputation, which had always stood him in stead. But a
worldly Judge will sometimes disappoint the expectations
of the Christian suitor; and'the language of the Court, in
commenting upon Mr. Jos Larkin, was, I am sorry to say,
in the highest degree offensive — " flagitious," "fraud-
ulent," and kindred epithets, were launched against that
tall, bald head, in a storm that darkened the air and ob-
literated the halo that usually encircled it. He was dis-
missed, in a tempest, with costs. He vanished from court,
like an evil spirit, into the torture-chamber of taxation.
But the cup of his tribulation was not yet quite full.
Jos Larkin's name was ultimately struck from the roll of
solicitors and attorneys, and there were minute and merci-
less essays in the papers, surrounding his disgrace with a
dreadful glare. People say he has not enough left to go
on with. He had lodgings somewhere near Richmond, as
Howard Larkin, Esq. and is still a religious character.
Some summers ago, I was, for a few days, in the won-
drous city of Venice. Gliding near the Lido — where
so many rings of Doges lie lost beneath the waves — I
heard the pleasant sound of female voices upon the water,
and then, with a sudden glory, rose a sad, wild hymn, like
the musical wail of the forsaken sea: —
The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord.
The song ceased. The gondola which bore the musicians
floated by — a slender hand over the gunwale trailed its
fingers in the water. Unseen, I saw. Rachel -and Dor-
cas, beautiful in the sad moonlight, passed so near we could
have spoken — passed me like spirits, never more, it may
be, to cross my sight in life.
THE END. f.
V'






SF° 1 4 1942