CHAPTER XI.
IN WHICH LAKE UNDER THE TREES OF BRANDON, AND I IN MY CHAMBER, SMOKE OURNOCTURNAL CIGARS.
Miss Lake declined the carriage to-night. Her brother was to see herhome, and there was a leave-taking, and the young ladies whispered a wordor two, and kissed, after the manner of their kind. To Captain Lake, MissBrandon's adieux were as cold and haughty as her greeting.
'Did you see that?' said Wylder in my ear, with a chuckle; and, wagginghis head, he added, rather loftily for him, 'Miss Brandon, I reckon, hastaken your measure, Master Stanley, as well as I. I wonder what the deucethe old dowager sees in him. Old women always like rascals.'
And he added something still less complimentary.
I suppose the balance of attraction and repulsion was overcome by MissLake, much as he disliked Stanley, for Wylder followed them out with LordChelford, to help the young lady into her cloak and goloshes, and I foundmyself near Miss Brandon for the first time that evening, and much to mysurprise 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 understand your question,' Ireplied, enquiringly.
'I mean of the--the family arrangements, in which, as Mr. Wylder'sfriend, you seem to take an interest?' she said.
'There can hardly be a second opinion, Miss Brandon; I think it a verywise measure,' I replied, much surprised.
'Very wise--exactly. But don't these very wise things sometimes turn outvery foolishly? Do you really think your friend, Mr. Wylder, cares aboutme?'
'I take that for granted: in the nature of things it can hardly beotherwise,' I replied, a good deal startled and perplexed by the curiousaudacity of her interrogatory.
'It was very foolish of me to expect from Mr. Wylder's friend any otheranswer; you are very loyal, Mr. De Cresseron.'
And without awaiting my reply she made some remark which I forget to LadyChelford, who sat at a little distance; and, appearing quite absorbed inher new subject, she placed herself close beside the dowager, andcontinued to chat in a low tone.
I was vexed with myself for having managed with so little skill aconversation which, opened so oddly and frankly, might have placed me onrelations so nearly confidential, with that singular and beautiful girl.I ought to have rejoiced--but we don't always see what most concerns ourpeace. In the meantime I had formed a new idea of her. She was sounreserved, it seemed, and yet in this directness there was somethingalmost contemptuous.
By this time Lord Chelford and Wylder returned; and, disgusted ratherwith myself, I ruminated on my want of general-ship.
In the meantime, Miss Lake, with her hand on her brother's arm, waswalking swiftly under the trees of the back avenue towards that footpathwhich, through wild copse and broken clumps near the park, emerges uponthe still darker road which passes along the wooded glen by the mills,and skirts the little paling of the recluse lady's garden.
They had not walked far, when Lake suddenly said--
'What do you think of all this, Radie--this particular version, I mean,of marriage, _a-la-mode_, they are preparing up there?' and he made alittle dip of his cane towards Brandon Hall, over his shoulder. 'I reallydon't think Wylder cares twopence about her, or she about him,' andStanley Lake laughed gently and sleepily.
'I don't think they pretend to like one another. It is quite understood.It was all, you know, old Lady Chelford's arrangement: and Dorcas is sosupine, I believe she would allow herself to be given away by anyone, andto anyone, 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. Somethingmay be made of Mark Wylder. He has some sense and caution, has nothe?--but Sir Harry is wickedness itself!'
'Why--what has Sir Harry done? That is the way you women run away withthings! 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 littlerevenue of Sir Harry's billiards, which were wild and noisy; and likinghis 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 isgenerally thought the wickedest man in this county.'
'Well, you know, Radie, women like wicked fellows: it is contrast, Isuppose, but they do; and I'm sure, from what Bracton has said to me--Iknow him intimately--that Dorcas likes him, and I can't conceive why theyare not married.'
'It is very happy, for her at least, they are not,' said Rachel, and along silence ensued.
Their walk continued silent for the greater part, neither was quitesatisfied 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 Iknow your face too well, Stanley, to mistake.'
'Now that's impossible, Radie; for I really don't think I once thought ofhim all this evening--except just while we were talking.'
'You keep your secret as usual, Stanley,' said the young lady.
'Really, Radie, you're quite mistaken. I assure you, upon my honour, I'veno secret. You're a very odd girl--why won't you believe me?'
Miss Rachel only glanced across her mufflers on his face. There was abright moonlight, broken by the shadows of overhanging boughs andwithered leaves; and the mottled lights and shadows glided oddly acrosshis pale features. But she saw that he was smiling his sly, sleepy smile,and she said quietly--
'Well, Stanley, I ask no more--but you don't deceive me.'
'I don't try to. If your feelings indeed had been different, and that youhad not made such a point--you know--'
'Don't insult me, Stanley, by talking again as you did this morning. WhatI say is altogether on your own account. Mark my words, you'll find himtoo strong for you; aye, and too deep. I see very plainly that _he_suspects you as I do. You saw it, too, for nothing of that kind escapesyou. Whatever you meditate, he probably anticipates it--you knowbest--and you will find him prepared. You have given him time enough. Youwere always the same, close, dark, and crooked, and wise in your ownconceit. I am very uneasy about it, whatever it is. _I_ can't help it. Itwill happen--and most ominously I feel that you are courting a dreadfulretaliation, and that you will bring on yourself a great misfortune; butit is quite vain, I know, speaking to you.'
'Really, Radie, you're enough to frighten a poor fellow; you won't mind aword I say, and go on predicting all manner of mischief between me andWylder, the very nature of which I can't surmise. Would you dislike mysmoking 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 inexpressibly awful in familyfeuds. Mortal hatred seems to deepen and dilate into something diabolicalin these perverted animosities. The mystery of their origin--theircapacity for evolving latent faculties of crime--and the steady vitalitywith which they survive the hearse, and speak their deep-mouthedmalignities in every new-born generation, have associated them somehow inmy mind with a spell of life exceeding and distinct from human and aspecial Satanic action.
My chamber, as I have mentioned, was upon the third storey. It was one ofmany, opening upon the long gallery, which had been the scene, fourgenerations back, of that unnatural and bloody midnight duel which hadlaid one scion of this ancient house in his shroud, and driven another afugitive to the moral solitudes of a continental banishment.
Much of the day, as I told you, had been passed among the grisly recordsof these old family crimes and hatreds. They had been an ill-c
onditionedand not a happy race. When I heard the servant's step traversing thatlong gallery, as it seemed to the in haste to be gone, and when all grewquite silent, I began to feel a dismal sort of sensation, and lighted thepair of wax candles which I found upon the small writing table. Howwonderful and mysterious is the influence of light! What sort of beingsmust those be who hate it?
The floor, more than anything else, showed the great age of the room. Itwas warped and arched all along by the wall between the door and thewindow. The portion of it which the carpet did not cover showed it to beoak, dark and rugged. My bed was unexceptionably comfortable, but, in mythen mood, I could have wished it a great deal more modern. Its fourposts were, like the rest of it, oak, well-nigh black, fantasticallyturned and carved, with a great urn-like capital and base, and shapedmidway, like a gigantic lance-handle. Its curtains were of thick andfaded tapestry. I was always a lover of such antiquities, but I confessat that moment I would have vastly preferred a sprightly modern chintzand a trumpery little French bed in a corner of the Brandon Arms. Therewas a great lowering press of oak, and some shelves, with withered greenand gold leather borders. All the furniture belonged to other times.
I would have been glad to hear a step stirring, or a cough even, or thegabble of servants at a distance. But there was a silence and desertionin this part of the mansion which, somehow, made me feel that I wasmyself a solitary intruder on this level of the vast old house.
I shan't trouble you about my train of thoughts or fancies; but I beganto feel very like a gentleman in a ghost story, watching experimentallyin a haunted chamber. My cigar case was a resource. I was not a bitafraid of being found out. I did not even take the precaution of smokingup the chimney. I boldly lighted my cheroot. I peeped through the densewindow curtain there were no shutters. A cold, bright moon was shiningwith clear sharp lights and shadows. Everything looked strangely cold andmotionless outside. The sombre old trees, like gigantic hearse plumes,black and awful. 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 tombstones.
Somehow, I had grown nervous. A little bit of plaster tumbled down thechimney, and startled me confoundedly. Then some time after, I fancied Iheard a creaking step on the lobby outside, and, candle in hand, openedthe door, and looked out with an odd sort of expectation, and a ratheragreeable disappointment, upon vacancy.
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