CHAPTER XX.
CAPTAIN LAKE TAKES AN EVENING STROLL ABOUT GYLINGDEN.
Again I had serious thoughts of removing my person and effects to theBrandon Arms. I could not quite believe I had seen a ghost; but neitherwas I quite satisfied that the thing was altogether canny. Theapparition, whatever it was, seemed to persecute me with a mysteriousobstinacy; at all events, I was falling into a habit of seeing it; and Ifelt a natural desire to escape from the house which was plagued with itspresence.
At the same time I had an odd sort of reluctance to mention the subjectto my entertainers. The thing itself was a ghostly slur upon the house,and, to run away, a reproach to my manhood; and besides, writing now at adistance, and in the spirit of history, I suspect the interest whichbeauty always excites had a great deal to do with my resolve to hold myground; and, I dare say, notwithstanding my other reasons, had the ladiesat the Hall been all either old or ugly, I would have made good myretreat to the village hotel.
As it was, however, I was resolved to maintain my position. But thatevening was streaked with a tinge of horror, and I more silent and_distrait_ than usual.
The absence of an accustomed face, even though the owner be nothing veryremarkable, is always felt; and Wylder was missed, though, sooth to say,not very much regretted. For the first time we were really a small party.Miss Lake was not there. The gallant captain, her brother, was alsoabsent. The vicar, and his good little wife, were at Naunton that eveningto hear a missionary recount his adventures and experiences in Japan, andnone of the neighbours 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 anyonepresumed to suspect her ladyship of having had a nap.
Chelford, I recollect, took a book, and read to us now and then, a snatchof poetry--I forget what. _My_ book--except when I was thinking of thetarn and that old man I so hated--was Miss Brandon's exquisite andmysterious face.
That young lady was leaning back in her great oak chair, in which shelooked like the heroine of some sad and gorgeous romance of the old civilwars of England, and directing a gaze of contemplative and haughtycuriosity upon the old lady, who was unconscious of the daringprofanation.
All on a sudden Dorcas Brandon said--
'And pray what do you think of marriage, Lady Chelford?'
'What do I think of marriage?' repeated the dowager, throwing back herhead and eyeing the beautiful heiress through her gold spectacles, with astony surprise, for she was not accustomed to be catechised by youngpeople. 'Marriage?--why 'tis a divine institution. What can the childmean?'
'Do you think, Lady Chelford, it may be safely contracted, solely to jointwo estates?' pursued the young lady.
'Do I think it may safely be contracted, solely to join two estates?'repeated the old lady, with a look and carriage that plainly showed howentirely she appreciated the amazing presumption of her interrogatrix.
There was a little pause.
'_Certainly_,' replied Lady Chelford; 'that is, of course, under properconditions, and with a due sense of its sacred character anda--a--obligations.'
'The first of which is _love_,' continued Miss Brandon; 'the second_honour_--both involuntary; and the third _obedience_, which springs fromthem.'
Old Lady Chelford coughed, and then rallying, said--
'Very good, Miss!'
'And pray, Lady Chelford, what do you think of Mr. Mark Wylder?' pursuedMiss Dorcas.
'I don't see, Miss Brandon, that my thoughts upon that subject canconcern anyone but myself,' retorted the old lady, severely, and from anawful altitude. 'And I may say, considering who I am--and my years--andthe manner in which I am usually treated, I am a little surprised at thetone in which you are pleased to question me.'
These last terrible remarks totally failed to overawe the serene temerityof the grave beauty.
'I assumed, Lady Chelford, as you had interested yourself in me so far asto originate the idea of my engagement to Mr. Wylder, that you hadconsidered these to me very important questions a little, and could giveme satisfactory answers upon points on which my mind has been employedfor some days; and, indeed, I think I've a right to ask that assistanceof you.'
'You seem to forget, young lady, that there are times and places for suchdiscussions; and that to Mr.--a--a--your visitor (a glance at me), itcan't be very interesting to listen to this kind of--of--conversation,which is neither very entertaining, nor very _wise_.'
'I am answerable only for _my_ part of it; and I think my questions verymuch to the purpose,' said the young lady, in her low, silvery tones.
'I don't question your good opinion, Miss Brandon, of your owndiscretion; but _I_ can't see any profit in now discussing an engagementof more than two months' standing, or a marriage, which is fixed to takeplace only ten days hence. And I think, Sir (glancing again at me), itmust strike _you_ a little oddly, that I should be invited, in yourpresence, to discuss family matters with Miss Dorcas Brandon?'
Now, was it fair to call a peaceable inhabitant like me into the thick ofa fray like this? 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; andold Lady Chelford at the word shot a gleam of contemptuous triumph atMiss Dorcas; but I would not acquiesce in the dowager's abusing myconcession to the prejudice of that beautiful and daring young lady--'Imean, Lady Chelford, in deference to you, who are not aware, as MissBrandon is, that I am one of Mr. Wylder's oldest and most intimatefriends; and at his request, and with Lord Chelford's approval, have beenadvised with, in detail, upon all the arrangements connected with theapproaching marriage.'
'I am not going, at present, to say any more upon these subjects, becauseLady Chelford prefers deferring our conversation,' said this very oddyoung lady; 'but there is nothing which either she or I may say, which Iwish to conceal from any friend of Mr. Wylder's.'
The idea of Miss Brandon's seriously thinking of withdrawing from herengagement with Mark Wylder, I confess never entered my mind. LadyChelford, perhaps, knew more of the capricious and daring character ofthe ladies of the Brandon line than I, and may have discovered some signsof a coming storm in the oracular questions which had fallen soharmoniously from those beautiful lips. As for me, I was puzzled. The oldviscountess was flushed (she did not rouge), and very angry, and, Ithink, uncomfortable, though she affected her usual supremacy. But theyoung lady showed no sign of excitement, and lay back in her chair in herusual deep, cold calm.
Lake's late smoking with Wylder must have disagreed with him very muchindeed, for he seemed more out of sorts as night approached. He stoleaway from Mr. Larkin's trellised porch, in the dusk. He marched into thetown rather quickly, like a man who has business on his hands; but he hadnone--for he walked by the 'Brandon Arms,' and halted, and stared at thepost-office, as if he fancied he had something to say there. Butno--there was no need to tap at the wooden window-pane. Some idle boyswere observing the dandy captain, and he turned down the short lane thatopened on the common, and sauntered upon the short grass.
Two or three groups, and an invalid visitor or two--for Gylingden boastsa 'spa'--were lounging away the twilight half-hours there. He seatedhimself on one of the rustic seats, and his yellow eyes wanderedrestlessly and vaguely along the outline of the beautiful hills. Then fornearly ten minutes he smoked--an odd recreation for a man suffering fromthe cigars of last night--and after that, for nearly as long again, heseemed 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. Somewondered what might be the disease of that pale, peevish-lookinggentleman, who sat there so still, languid, and dejected. Others set himdown as a gentleman in difficulties of some sort, who was
using Gylingdenfor a temporary refuge.
Others, again, supposed he might be that Major Craddock who had lostthirty thousand pounds on Vanderdecken the other day. Others knew he wasstaying with Mr. Larkin, and supposed he was trying to raise money atdisadvantage, and remarked that some of Mr. Larkin's clients lookedalways unhappy, though they had so godly an attorney to deal with.
When Lake, with a little shudder, for it was growing chill, lifted up hisyellow eyes suddenly, and recollected where he was, the common had growndark, and was quite deserted. There were lights in the windows of thereading-room, and in the billiard-room beneath it; and shadowy figures,with cues in their hands, gliding hither and thither, across itsuncurtained windows.
With a shrug, and a stealthy glance round him, Captain Lake started up.The instinct of the lonely and gloomy man unconsciously drew him towardsthe light, and he approached. A bat, attracted thither like himself, wasflitting and flickering, this way and that, across the casement.
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, andentered the hot, glaring room. Old Major Jackson, with his glass in hiseye, was contending in his shirt-sleeves heroically with a Manchesterbag-man, who was palpably too much for him. The double-chinned and floridproprietor of the 'Brandon Arms,' with a brandy-and-water familiarity,offered Captain Lake two to one on the game in anything he liked, whichthe captain declined, and took his seat on the bench.
He was not interested by the struggle of the gallant major, who smiledlike a prize-fighter under his punishment. In fact, he could not havetold the score at any point of the game; and, to judge by his face, wastranslated from the glare of that arena into a dark and splenetic worldof his own.
When he wakened up, in the buzz and clack of tongues that followed theclose of the game, Captain Lake glared round for a moment, like a mancalled up from sleep; the noise rattled and roared in his ears, the talksounded madly, and the faces of the people excited and menaced himundefinably, and he felt as if he was on the point of starting to hisfeet and stamping and shouting. The fact is, I suppose, he wasconfoundedly nervous, dyspeptic, or whatever else it might be, and theheat and glare were too much for him.
So, out he went into the chill, fresh night-air, and round the cornerinto 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, andthen back again, and so on, trying to tire himself, I think; and everytime he walked down the street, with his face toward London, his yelloweyes gleamed through the dark air, with the fixed gaze of a man lookingout for the appearance of a vehicle. It, perhaps, indicated an anxietyand a mental look-out in that direction, for he really expected no suchthing.
Then he dropped into the 'Brandon Arms,' and had a glass of brandy andwater, 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--andentered Mr. Larkin's drawing-room very cheerfully.
'How quiet you are here,' said the captain. 'I have been awfullydissipated since I saw you.'
'In an innocent way, my dear Captain Lake, you mean, of course--in aninnocent way.'
'Oh! no; billiards, I assure you. Do you play?'
'Oh! dear no--not that I see any essential harm in the game _as_ a game,for those, I mean, who don't object to that sort of thing; but for aresident here, putting aside other feelings--a resident holding aposition--it would not do, I assure you. There are people there whom onecould not associate with comfortably. I don't care, I hope, how poor aman may be, but do let him be a gentleman. I own to that prejudice. Aman, my dear Captain Lake, whose father before him has been a gentleman(old Larkin, while in the flesh, was an organist, and kept a small dayschool at Dwiddleston, and his grandfather he did not care to enquireafter), and who has had the education of one, does not feel himself athome, 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 the common first, and thena turn up and down before the 'Brandon Arms,' where at last I read apaper, and could not resist a glass of brandy and water, and, growinglazy, came home in a 'fly,' so I think I have had a very gay evening.
Larkin smiled benignantly, and would have said something no doubt worthhearing, but at that moment the door opened, and his old cook and elderlyparlour-maid--no breath of scandal ever troubled the serene fair fame ofhis household, and everyone allowed that, in the prudential virtues, atleast, he was nearly perfect--and Sleddon the groom, walked in, withthose sad faces which, I suppose, were first learned in the belief thatthey were acceptable to their master.
'Oh!' said Mr. Larkin, in a low, reverential tone, and the smilevanished; 'prayers!'
'Well, then, if you permit me, being a little tired, I'll go to mybed-room.'
With a grave and affectionate interest, Mr. Larkin looked in his face,and sighed a little and said:--
'Might I, perhaps, venture to beg, just this one night----'
That chastened and entreating look it was hard to resist. But somehow thewhole thing seemed to Lake to say, 'Do allow me this once to prescribe;do give your poor soul this one chance,' and Lake answered himsuperciliously and irreverently.
'No, thank you, no--any prayers I require I can manage for myself, thankyou. Good-night.'
And he lighted a bed-room candle and left the room.
'What a beast that fellow is. I don't know why the d-- I stay in hishouse.'
One reason was, perhaps, that it saved him nearly a guinea a day, and hemay have had some other little reasons just then.
'Family prayers indeed! and such a pair of women--witches, by Jove!--andthat rascally groom, and a hypocritical attorney! And the vulgar brutewill be as rich as Croesus, I dare say.'
Here soliloquised Stanley Lake in that gentleman's ordinary vein. Hismomentary disgust had restored him for a few seconds to his normal self.But certain anxieties of a rather ghastly kind, and speculations as towhat might be going on in London just then, were round him again, likearmed giants, in another moment, and the riches or hypocrisy of his hostwere no more to him than those of Overreach or Tartuffe.
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