Wylder's Hand

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by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu


  CHAPTER XXIV.

  DORCAS BRANDON PAYS RACHEL A VISIT.

  It was not very much past eleven that morning when the pony carriage fromBrandon drew up before the little garden wicket of Redman's Farm.

  The servant held the ponies' heads, and Miss Dorcas passed through thelittle 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; andold Tamar looked on her in a sort of wonder, her beauty seemed socelestial and splendid.

  Well, she _was_ better, though she had had a bad night. She was up anddressed, and this moment coming down, and would be very happy to see MissBrandon, if she would step into the drawing-room.

  Miss Brandon took old Tamar's hand gently and pressed it. I suppose shewas glad and took this way of showing it; and tall, beautiful, graceful,in rustling silks, she glided into the tiny drawing-room silently, andsate down softly by the window, looking out upon the flowers and thefalling leaves, mottled in light and shadow.

  We have been accustomed to see another girl--bright and fair-hairedRachel Lake--in the small rooms of Redman's Farm; but Dorcas only in richand stately Brandon Hall--the beautiful 'genius loci' under loftyceilings, curiously moulded in the first James's style--amid carved oakand richest draperies, tall china vases, paintings, and cold whitestatues; and somehow in this low-roofed room, so small and homely, shelooks like a displaced divinity--an exile under Juno's jealousy from thecloudy splendours of Olympus--dazzlingly melancholy, and 'humano major'among the meannesses and trumperies of earth.

  So there came a step and a little rustling of feminine draperies, thesmall door opened, and Rachel entered, with her hand extended, and a palesmile of welcome.

  Women can hide their pain better than we men, and bear it better, too,except when _shame_ drops fire into the dreadful chalice. But poor RachelLake had more than that stoical hypocrisy which enables the torturedspirits of her sex to lift a pale face through the flames and smile.

  She was sanguine, she was genial and companionable, and her spirits roseat the sight of a friendly face. This transient spring and lighting upare beautiful--a glamour beguiling our senses. It wakens up the frozenspirit of enjoyment, and leads the sad faculties forth on a wildforgetful frolic.

  'Rachel, dear, I'm so glad to see you,' said Dorcas, placing her armsgently about her neck, and kissing her twice or thrice. There wassomething of sweetness and fondness in her tones and manner, which wasnew to Rachel, and comforting, and she returned the greeting as kindly,and felt more like her former self. 'You have been more ill than Ithought, darling, and you are still far from quite recovered.'

  Rachel's pale and sharpened features and dilated eye struck her with apainful 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 cominghere, 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.'

  'Ill and troubled, dear--troubled in mind, and miserably nervous.'

  Poor Rachel! her nature recoiled from deceit, and she told, at allevents, as much of the truth as she dared.

  Dorcas's large eyes rested upon her with a grave enquiry, and then MissBrandon looked down in silence for a while on the carpet, and wasthinking a little sternly, maybe, and with a look of pain, still holdingRachel'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 havelearned to fear death, I would rather die than let Stanley even suspectit.'

  She spoke with a sudden energy, which partook of fear and passion, andflushed her thin cheek, and made her languid eyes flash.

  'Thank you, Rachel, my Cousin Rachel, my only friend. I ought not to havedoubted you,' and she kissed her again. 'Chelford had a note from Mr.Wylder this morning--another note--his coming delayed, and something ofhis having to see some person who is abroad,' continued Dorcas, after alittle pause. 'You have heard, of course, of Mr. Wylder's absence?'

  'Yes, something--_everything_,' said Rachel, hurriedly, lookingfrowningly at a flower which she was twirling in her fingers.

  'He chose an unlucky moment for his departure. I meant to speak to himand end all between us; and I would now write, but there is no address tohis letters. I think Lady Chelford and her son begin to think there ismore in this oddly-timed journey of Mr. Wylder's than first appeared.When I came into the parlour this morning I knew they were speaking ofit. If he does not return in a day or two, Chelford, I am sure, willspeak 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 youconjecture why he is gone?'

  Rachel made no answer, but rose with a dreamy look, as if gazing at somedistant object among the dark masses of forest trees, and stood beforethe 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 awild kind of apathy into distance. 'Can I? What can it now be to you orme--why? Yes, we sometimes conjecture right, and sometimes wrong; thereare many things best not conjectured about at all--some interesting, someabominable, some that pass all comprehension: I never mean to conjecture,if I can help it, again.'

  And the wan oracle having spoken, she sate down in the same sort ofabstraction again beside Dorcas, and she looked full in her cousin'seyes.

  'I made you a voluntary promise, Dorcas, and now you will make me one. OfMark Wylder I say this: his name has been for years hateful to me, andrecently 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 hefar, I regard his very name with horror.'

  Dorcas returned her gaze with one of haughty amazement; 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 akindness?'

  'I'm only disappointed, Rachel; I thought you would have trusted me, as Idid you.'

  'It is an antipathy--an antipathy I cannot get over, dear Dorcas; you maythink it a madness, but don't blame me. Remember I am neither well norhappy, and forgive what you cannot like in me. I have very few to love menow, 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 spiritsare gone and I never needed kindness so much before.'

  And she threw her arms round her cousin's neck, and brave Rachel at lastburst into tears.

  Dorcas, in her strange way, was moved.

  'I like you still, Rachel; I'm sure I'll always like you. You resembleme, Rachel: you are fearless and inflexible and generous. That spiritbelongs to the blood of our strange race; all our women were so. Yes,Rachel, I do love you. I was wounded to find you had thoughts you wouldnot trust to me; but I have made the promise, and I'll keep it; and Ilove you all the same.'

  'Thank you, Dorcas, dear. I like to call you cousin--kindred is sopleasant. 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 presage of futurity, and she kissed heragain, and said--

  'Rachel, dear, I have a plan for you and me: we shall be old maids, youand I, and live together like the ladies of Llangollen, careless andhappy recluses. I'll let Brandon and abdicate. We will make a little tourtogether, when all this shall have blown over, in a few week
s, and chooseour retreat; and with the winter's snow we'll vanish from Brandon, andappear with the early flowers at our cottage among the beautiful woodsand hills of Wales. Will you come, Rachel?'

  At sight of this castle or cottage in the air, Rachel lighted up. Thelittle whim had something tranquillising and balmy. It was escape--flightfrom Gylingden--flight from Brandon--flight from Redman's Farm: they andall their hated associations would be far behind, and that awful page inher story, not torn out, indeed, but gummed down as it were, and nolonger glaring and glowering in her eyes every moment of her waking life.

  So she smiled upon the picture painted on the clouds; it was the firstthing that had interested her for days. It was a hope. She seized it; sheclung to it. She knew, perhaps, it was the merest chimera; but it restedand consoled her imagination, and opened, in the blackness of her sky,one small vista, through whose silvery edge the blue and stars of heavenwere visible.

 

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