CHAPTER XXX.
IN BRANDON PARK.
To me, from association, no doubt, that park has always had a melancholycharacter. The ground undulates beautifully, and noble timber studs it inall varieties of grouping; and now, as when I had seen the ill-omenedform of Uncle Lorne among its solitudes, the descending sun shone acrossit with a saddened glory, tipping with gold the blades of grass and thebrown antlers of the distant deer.
Still pursuing her solemn and melancholy discourse, the young ladyfollowed the path, accompanied by the vicar.
'True,' said the vicar, 'your mind is disturbed, but not by doubt. No; itis by _truth_.' He glanced aside at the tarn where I had seen thephantom, and by which their path now led them--'You remember Parnell'spretty 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 colours 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 wellrepresented by the "stone," that subsides and leaves the pool clear, itmaybe, but stagnant as before. Oh, no; it is an angel who comes down andtroubles the water.'
'What a heavenly evening!' said a low, sweet voice, but with somethinginsidious in it, close at his shoulder.
With a start, Rachel glanced back, and saw the pale, peculiar face of herbrother. His yellow eyes for a moment gleamed into hers, and then on thevicar, and, with his accustomed smile, he extended his hand.
'How do you do?--better, I hope, Radie? 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 staying for a few days atthe 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 mustreturn to Gylingden now, Mr. Wylder; I think I'll turn also, and go homethat way.'
'Nothing would give me greater pleasure,' said the vicar, truly as wellas kindly, for he had grown interested in their conversation; 'but I fearyou are tired'--he looked very kindly on her pale face--'and you know itwill 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 suddenchange 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 notless courageous than formerly. But the old, fierce, defiant spirit awoke.Why should she fear Stanley, or what could it be to her whether he wasbeside her in her homeward walk?
So the vicar made his adieux there, and began, at a brisker pace, toretrace his steps toward Gylingden; and she and Stanley, side by side,walked on toward Redman's Dell.
'What a charming park! and what delightful air, Radie; and the weather sovery delicious. They talk of Italian evenings; but there is a pleasantsharpness in English evenings quite peculiar. Is not there just a littlesuspicion of frost--don't you think so--not actually cold, but crisp andsharp--unspeakably exhilarating; now really, this evening is quitecelestial.'
'I've just been listening to a good man's conversation, and I wish toreflect 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 wellread in theology--is not he?--yes, he does talk very sweetly and nobly onreligion; it is a pity he is not quite straight, or at least morepunctual, in his money affairs.'
'He is distressed for money? William Wylder is distressed for money! Doyou mean _that_?' said Rachel, turning a tone of sudden surprise andenergy, almost horror, turning full upon him, and stopping short.
'Oh, dear! no--not the least distressed that I ever heard of,' laughedStanley 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 theslope there; you really can't imagine, who are always here, how veryintensely a person who has just escaped from London enjoys all this.'
'I don't think, Stanley,' said the young lady coldly, and lookingstraight before her as she walked, 'you ever cared for naturalscenery--or liked the country--and yet you are here. I don't think youever loved me, or cared whether I was alone or in company; and yetseeing--for you _did_ see it--that I would now rather be alone, youpersist in walking with me, and talking of trees and air and celestialevenings, and thinking of something quite different. Had not you betterturn back to Gylingden, or the Lodge, or wherever you mean to pass theevening, and leave me to my quiet walk and my solitude?'
'In a few minutes, dear Radie--you are so odd. I really believe you thinkno one can enjoy a ramble like this but yourself.'
'Come, Stanley, what do you want?' said his sister, stopping short, andspeaking with the flush of irritation on her cheek--'do you mean to walkto Redman's Dell, or have you anything unpleasant to say?'
'Neither, I hope,' said the captain, with his sleepy smile, his yelloweyes resting on the innocent grass blades before him.
'I don't understand you, Stanley. I am always uncomfortable when you arenear me. You stand there like an evil spirit, with some purpose which Icannot divine; but you shall not ensnare me. Go your own way, why can'tyou? 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'mMephistopheles, I suppose, and you Margaret, or some other simpleheroine--rebuking the fiend in the majesty of your purity.'
And indeed in the reddish light, and in that lonely and solemn spot, theslim form of the captain, pale, sneering, with his wild eyes, confrontingthe beautiful light-haired girl, looked not quite unlike a type of thejaunty fiend he was pleased to suppose himself.
'I tell you, Stanley, I feel that you design employing me in some of yourcrooked plans. I have horrible reasons, as you know, for avoiding you,and so I will. I hope I may never desire to see you alone again, but if Ido, it shall not be to receive, but to impose commands. You had betterreturn 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 meditate. Well, then,as it seems I must hear it, pray speak at once, standing where we are,and quickly, for the sun will soon go down, and one step more I will notwalk with you.'
'Well, Radie, you are pleased to be whimsical; and, to say truth, I _was_thinking of saying a word or two, just about as idea that has been in mymind some time, and which you half divined--you are so clever--the firstday I saw you at Redman's Farm. You know you fancied I was thinking ofmarrying.'
'I don't remember that I said so, but I thought it. You mentionedCaroline Beauchamp, but I don't see how your visit _here_ could have beenconnected with that plan.'
'But don't you think, Radie, I should do well to marry, that is, assumingeverything to be suitable?'
'Well, perhaps, for _yourself_, Stanley; but----'
'Yes, of course,' said Lake; 'but the unfortunate girl, you were going tosay--thank you. She's, of course, very much to be pitied, and you have myleave 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, Ithink, very essentially of use to me in this affair, and you must notrefuse.'
'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 Stanley, with a sav
ageglare, and features whitened with passion, 'and you _shall_ serve me; andyou _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 tomarry her. I had made up my mind when I saw you first and I'll carry mypoint; I always do. She does not like me, maybe; but she _shall_. I neveryet resolved to make a woman like me, and failed. You need not look sopale; and put on that damned affected look of horror. I may be wild,and--and what you please, but I'm no worse than that brute, Mark Wylder,and you never turned up your eyes when he was her choice; and I knewthings about him that ought to have damned him, and she's well rid of abranded rascal. And now, Rachel, you know her, and you must say a goodword for me. I expect your influence, and if you don't use it, andeffectually, it will be worse for you. You women understand one another,and how to get a fellow favourably into one another's thoughts. So,listen to me, this is a vital matter; indeed, it is, Radie. I have lost alot of money, like a--fool, I suppose; well, it is gone, and thismarriage is indispensable. I must go in for it, it is life or death; andif I fail through your unkindness (here he swore an impious oath) I'llend all with a pistol, and leave a letter to Chelford, disclosingeverything concerning you, and me, and Mark Wylder.'
I think Rachel Lake was as near fainting as ever lady was, withoutactually swooning. It was well they had stopped just by the stem of agreat ash tree, against which Rachel leaned for some seconds, withdarkness 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 hadbeen railing on all this time, and his voice, which, in ill-temper, wassingularly bleak and terrible, was again in her ears the moment sherecovered 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 youmust have more; it can't be helped, and, I say, you _must_. I've beenvery foolish. I'll give up play. It has brought me to this. I've had tosell out. I've paid away all I could, and given bills for the rest; but Ican't possibly pay them, don't you see; and if things go to the worst, Itell you I'll not stay. I don't want to make my bow just yet, and I've nowish to injure you; but I'll do as I have said (he swore again), andChelford shall have a distinct statement under my hand of everything thathas happened. I don't suppose you wish to be accessory to all this, andtherefore it behoves you, Rachel, to do what you can to prevent it. Onewoman can always influence another, and you are constantly with Dorcas.You'll do all you can; I'm sure you will; and you can do a great deal. Iknow it; I'll do as much for you, Radie! Anything you like.'
For the first time her brother stood before her in a really terribleshape; she felt his villainy turning with a cowardly and mercilesstreason upon her forlorn self. Sacrificed for him, and that sacrificeused by him to torture, to extort, perhaps to ruin. She quailed for aminute in the presence of this gigantic depravity and cruelty. But Rachelwas a brave lass, and rallied quickly.
'After all I have done and suffered!' said she, with a faint smile ofunimaginable bitterness; 'I did not think that human wickedness couldproduce such a brother as you are.'
'Well, it is no news what you think of me, and not much matter, either. Idon't see that I am a worse brother than you are a sister.' Stanley Lakewas speaking with a livid intensity. 'You see how I'm placed; a ruinedman, with a pistol to my head; what you can do to save me may amount tonothing, but it may be everything, and you say you won't try! Now I sayyou _shall_, and with every energy and faculty you possess, or else abidethe consequences.'
'And I tell you, Sir,' replied Rachel, 'I know you; you are capable ofanything but of hurting yourself. I'll never be your slave; though, if Ipleased, I might make you mine. I scorn your threats--I defy you.'
Stanley Lake looked transported, and the yellow fires of his deep-seteyes 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 hand as if tostrike 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; buthe had been violently agitated, and the traces of his fury could notdisappear in a moment.
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 glovedhand upon his arm--the miscreant arm that had been so nearly raised tostrike her; and they walked along, brother and sister, in the Sabbathsunset light, to meet him.
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