CHAPTER XXV.
CAPTAIN LAKE LOOKS IN AT NIGHTFALL.
In the queer little drawing-room of Redman's Farm it was twilight, sodense were the shadows from the great old chestnuts that surrounded it,before the sun was well beneath the horizon; and you could, from itsdarkened window, see its red beams still tinting the high grounds ofWillerston, visible through the stems of the old trees that were massedin the near foreground.
A figure which had lost its energy--a face stamped with the lines andpallor of a dejection almost guilty--with something of the fallen graceand beauty of poor Margaret, as we see her with her forehead leaning onher slender hand, by the stirless spinning-wheel--the image of a strangeand ineffaceable sorrow, sat Rachel Lake.
Tamar might glide in and out; her mistress did not speak; the shadowsdeepened round her, but she did look up, nor call, in the old cheerfulaccents, for lights. No more roulades and ringing chords from thepiano--no more clear spirited tones of the lady's voice sounded throughthe low ceilings of Redman's Farm, and thrilled with a haunting melodythe deserted glen, wherein the birds had ended their vesper songs andgone to rest.
A step was heard at the threshold--it entered the hall; the door of thelittle chamber opened, and Stanley Lake entered, saying in a doubtful,almost timid way--
'It is I, Radie, come to thank you, and just to ask you how you do, andto say I'll never forget your kindness; upon my honour, I never can.'
Rachel shuddered as the door opened, and there was a ghastly sort ofexpectation in her look. Imperfectly as it was seen, he could understandit. She did not bid him welcome or even speak. There was a silence.
'Now, you're not angry with me, Radie dear; I venture to say I suffermore than you: and how could I have anticipated the strange turn thingshave taken? You know how it all came about, and you must see I'm notreally to blame, at least in intention, for all this miserable trouble;and even if I were, where's the good in angry feeling or reproaches now,don't you see, when I can't mend it? Come, Radie, let by-gones beby-gones. There's a good girl; won't you?'
'Aye, by-gones are by-gones; the past is, indeed, immutable, and thefuture is equally fixed, and more dreadful.'
'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 gono further in the long route of wickedness you seem to have marked outfor me. I'm sacrificed, it is true, but I won't renew my hourly horrors,and live under the rule of your diabolical selfishness.'
'Say what you will, but keep your temper--will you?' he answered, morelike his angry self. But he checked the rising devil within him, andchanged his tone; he did not want to quarrel--quite the reverse.
'I don't know really, Radie, why you should talk as you do. I don't wantyou to do anything--upon my honour I don't--only just to exercise yourcommon sense--and you have lots of sense, Radie. Don't you think peoplehave eyes to see, and ears and tongues in this part of the world? Don'tyou know very well, in a small place like this, they are all alive withcuriosity? and if you choose to make such a tragedy figure, and keepmoping and crying, and all that sort of thing, and look so _funeste_ andmiserable, you'll be sure to fix attention and set the whole d--d placespeculating and gossiping? and really, Radie, you're making mountains ofmole-hills. It is because you live so solitary here, and it _is_ such agloomy out-o'-the-way spot--so awfully dark and damp, nobody _could_ bewell here, and you really must change. It is the very temple ofblue-devilry, and I assure you if I lived as you do I'd cut my throatbefore a month--you _mustn't_. And old Tamar, you know, such a figure!The very priestess of despair. 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 andI--to support other people. You must really place yourself morecheerfully, and I'll speak to Chelford about Tamar. There's a very niceplace--an asylum, or something, for old women--near--(Dollington he wasgoing to say, but the associations were not pleasant)--near some of thoselittle towns close to this, and he's a visitor, or governor, or whateverthey call it. It is really not fair to expect you or me to keep peoplelike that.'
'She has not cost you much hitherto, Stanley, and she will give you verylittle trouble hereafter. I won't part with Tamar.'
'She has not cost me much?' said Lake, whose temper was not of a kind topass by anything. 'No; of course, she has not. _I_ can't afford a guinea.You're poor enough; but in proportion to my expenses--a woman, of course,can live on less than half what a man can--I'm a great deal poorer thanyou; and I never said I gave her sixpence--did I? I have not got it togive, and I don't think she's fool enough to expect it; and, to say thetruth, I don't care. I only advise you. There are some cheerful littlecottages near the green, in Gylingden, and I venture to think, this isone of the very gloomiest and most uncomfortable places you could haveselected to live in.'
Rachel looked drearily toward the window and sighed--it was almost agroan.
'It was cheerful always till this frightful week changed everything. Oh!why, why, why did you ever come?' She threw back her pale face, bitingher lip, and even in that deepening gloom her small pearly teethglimmered white; and then she burst into sobs and an agony of tears.
Captain Lake knew something of feminine paroxysms. Rachel was not givento hysterics. He knew this burst of anguish was unaffected. He was ratherglad of it. When it was over he expected clearer weather and a calm. Sohe waited, saying now and then a soothing word or two.
'There--there--there, Radie--there's a good girl. Nevermind--there--there.' And between whiles his mind, which, in truth, had agood deal upon it, would wander and pursue its dismal and perplexedexplorations, to the unheard accompaniment of her sobs.
He went to the door, but it was not to call for water, or for old Tamar.On the contrary, it was to observe whether she or the girl was listening.But the house, though small, was built with thick partition walls, andsounds were well enclosed in the rooms to which they belonged.
With Rachel this weakness did not last long. It was a gust--violent--soonover; and the 'o'er-charged' heart and brain were relieved. And shepushed open the window, and stood for a moment in the chill air, andsighed, and whispered a word or two over the closing flowers of herlittle garden toward the darkening glen, and with another great sighclosed the window, and returned.
'Can I do anything, Radie? You're better now. I knew you would be. ShallI get some water from your room?'
'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 shoulderwith his soft hand; and then followed a short silence.
'I wish you were more pleasantly lodged, Radie; but we can speak of thatanother 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, asyou say, there is time enough to think of all that.'
'Quite so--time enough. By-the-bye, Radie, you mentioned our old servant,whom my father thought so highly of--Jim Dutton--the other evening. I'vebeen thinking of him, do you know, and I should like to find him out. Hewas a very honest fellow, and attached, and a clever fellow, too, myfather thought; and _he_ was a good judge. Hadn't you a letter from hismother lately? You told me so, I think; and if it is not too muchtrouble, dear Radie, would you allow me to see it?'
Rachel opened her desk, and silently selected one of those clumsy andoriginal missives, directed in a staggering, round hand, on paper oddlyshaped and thick, such as mixes not naturally with the aristocraticfabric, on which crests and ciphers are impressed, and placed it in herbrother'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 herson?'
'Both, I think,' answered Rachel, languidly; 'b
ut he'll never make aservant for you--he's a rough creature, she says, and was a groom. Youcan't remember him, nor I either.'
'Perhaps--very likely;' and he put the letter in his pocket.
'I was thinking, Rachel, you could advise me, if you would, you are soclever, you know.'
'Advise!' said Rachel, softly; but with a wild and bitter rage ringingunder it. 'I did advise when it was yet time to profit by advice. I boundyou even by a promise to take it, but you know how it ended. You don'twant my advice.'
'But really I do, Radie. I quite allow I was wrong--worse than wrong--butwhere is the use of attacking me now, when I'm in this dreadful fix? Itook a wrong step; and what I now have to do is to guard myself, ifpossible, from what I'm threatened with.'
She fancied she saw his pale face grow more bloodless, even in the shadowwhere he sat.
'I know you too well, Stanley. You want _no_ advice. You never tookadvice--you never will. Your desperate and ingrained perversity hasruined us both.'
'I wish you'd let me know my own mind. I say I do--(and he uttered anunpleasant exclamation). Do you think I'll leave matters to take theircourse, and sit down here to be destroyed? I'm no such idiot. I tell youI'll leave no stone unturned to save myself; and, in some measure, _you_too, Radie. You don't seem to comprehend the tremendous misfortune thatmenaces me--_us_--_you_ and me.'
And he cursed Mark Wylder with a gasp of hatred not easily expressed.
She winced at the name, and brushed her hand to her ear.
'Don't--don't--_don't_,' she said, vehemently.
'Well, what the devil do you mean by refusing to help me, even with ahint? I say--I _know_--all the odds are against us. It is sometimes along game; but unless I'm sharp, I can't escape what's coming. I_can't_--you 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 cynicism in her lowtones, 'you don't want advice; you have formed your plan, whatever it is,and that plan you will follow, and no other, though men and angels wereunited 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 meas very well I have--for I don't think you are likely to take thattrouble. I only want to explain it, and get your advice, and any littleassistance you can give me; and surely that is not unreasonable?'
'I have learned one secret, and am exposed to one danger. I havetaken--to save you--it may be only a _respite_--one step, the remembranceof which is insupportable. But I was passive. I am fallen from light intodarkness. There ends my share in your confidence and your fortunes. Iwill know no more secrets--no more disgrace; do what you will, you shallnever use me again.'
'Suppose these heroics of yours, Miss Radie, should contribute to bringabout--to bring about the worst,' said Stanley, with a sneer, throughwhich his voice trembled.
'Let it come--my resolution is taken.'
Stanley walked to the window, and in his easy way, as he would across adrawing-room to stand by a piano, and he looked out upon the trees, whosetops 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 thewindow.
'Well, Radie, dear--you have put your hand to the plough, and you sha'n'tturn back now.'
'What?'
'No--you sha'n't turn back now.'
'You seem, Sir, to fancy that I have no right to choose for myself,' saidMiss 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 theguilty path you have opened for me one step more I will never tread.'
'Excuse me, Radie, but you're talking like a fool.'
'I am not sorry you think so--you can't understand motives higher thanyour own.'
'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 carryout,' said Lake, with a dreamy serenity, looking on the dark carpet.
'I'll hear no secret, Stanley.'
'It can't be long a secret, at least from you--you can't help knowingit,' he drawled gently. 'Do you recollect, Radie, what I said thatmorning when I first called here, and saw you?'
'Perhaps I do, but I don't know what you mean,' answered she.
'I said, Mark Wylder----'
'Don't name him,' she said, rising and approaching him swiftly.
'I said _he_ should go abroad, and so he shall,' said Lake, in a very lowtone, with a grim oath.
'Why do you talk that way? You terrify me,' said Rachel, with one handraised toward his face with a gesture of horror and entreaty, and theother 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 thestate I'm in--sleepless--half wild--all alone here. You're talking like amaniac. It's cruel--it's cowardly.'
'I mean to _do_ it--you'll see.'
Suddenly she hurried by him, and in a moment was in the little kitchen,with its fire and candle burning cheerily. Stanley Lake was at hershoulder as she entered, and both were white with agitation.
Old Tamar rose up affrighted, her stiff arms raised, and uttered ablessing. She did not know what to make of it. Rachel sat down upon oneof the kitchen chairs, scarce knowing what she did, and Stanley Lakehalted near the threshold--gazing for a moment as wildly as she, with theghost 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 somewhatstern.
'And now, Stanley, dear,' said she, for just then she was past caring forthe presence of the servants, 'I hope we understand one another--atleast, that you do me. If not, it is not for want of distinctness on mypart; and I think you had better leave me for the present, for, to saytruth, I do not feel very well.'
'Good-night, Radie--good-night, old Tamar. I hope, Radie, you'll bebetter--every way--when next I see you. Good-night.'
He spoke in his usual clear low tones, and his queer ambiguous smile wasthere still; and, hat in hand, with his cane in his fingers, he madeanother glance and a nod over his shoulder, at the threshold, and thenglided forth into the little garden, and so to the mill-road, down which,at a swift pace, he walked towards the village.
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