Wylder's Hand

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  IN REDMAN'S DELL.

  Lord Chelford raised his hat, smiling: 'I am so very glad I met you, Iwas beginning to feel so solitary!' he placed himself beside Miss Lake.'I've had such a long walk across the park. How do you do, Lake? when didyou come?'

  And so on--Lake answering and looking wonderfully as usual.

  I think Lord Chelford perceived there was something amiss between theyoung people, for his eye rested on Rachel with a momentary look ofenquiry, unconscious, no doubt, and quickly averted, and he went onchatting pleasantly; but he looked, once or twice, a little hard atStanley Lake. I don't think he had an extraordinarily good opinion ofthat young gentleman. He seldom expressed an ill one of anybody, and thenit was in very measured language. But though he never hinted at anunfavourable estimate of the captain, his intimacies with him were alittle reserved; and I think I have seen him, even when he smiled, lookthe least little bit in the world uncomfortable, as if he did not quiteenter into the captain's pleasantries.

  They had not walked together very far, when Stanley recollected that hemust take his leave, and walk back to Gylingden; and so the young ladyand Lord Chelford were left to pursue their way towards Redman's Farmtogether.

  It would have been a more unaccountable proceeding on the part of StanleyLake, and a more romantic situation, if Rachel and his lordship had nothad before two or three little accidental rambles together in the groundsand gardens of Brandon. There was nothing quite new in the situation,therefore; and Rachel was for a moment indescribably relieved byStanley's departure.

  The shock of her brief interview with her brother over, reflectionassured her, knowing all she did, that Stanley's wooing would prosper,and so this cause of quarrel had really nothing in it; no, nothing but adisplay of his temper and morals--not very astonishing, after all--and,like an ugly picture or a dreadful dream, in no way to affect herafter-life, except as an odious remembrance.

  Therefore, little by little, like a flower that has been bruised, in thetranquillising influences about her, the young lady got up, expanded, andgrew like herself again--not like enough, indeed, to say much, but tolisten and follow his manly, refined, and pleasant talk, every momentwith a pang, that had yet something pleasurable in it, contrasting thequiet and chivalric tone of her present companion, with the ferociousduplicity of the sly, smooth terrorist who had just left her side.

  It was rather a marked thing--as lean Mrs. Loyd, of Gylingden, who hadtwo thin spinsters with pink noses under her wing, remarked--this longwalk of Lord Chelford and Miss Lake in the park; and she enjoined uponher girls the propriety of being specially reserved in their intercoursewith persons of Lord Chelford's rank; not that they were much troubledwith dangers from any such quarter. Miss Lake had, she supposed, her ownnotions, and would act as she pleased; but she owned for her part shepreferred the old fashion, and thought the men did also; and was sure,too, that young ladies lost nothing by a little reserve and modesty.

  Now something of this, no doubt, passed in the minds of Lord Chelford andhis pretty companion. But what was to be done? That perverse and utterlyselfish brother, Stanley Lake, had chosen to take his leave. LordChelford could not desert the young lady, and would it have been a verynice delicacy in Miss Lake to make her courtesy in the middle of thepark, and protest against pursuing their walk together any further?

  Lord Chelford was a lively and agreeable companion; but there wassomething unusually gentle, almost resembling tenderness, in his manner.She was so different from her gay, fiery self in this walk--so gentle; sosubdued--and he was more interested by her, perhaps, than he had everbeen before.

  The sun just touched the verge of the wooded uplands, as the young peoplebegan to descend the slope of Redman's Dell.

  'How very short!' Lord Chelford paused, with a smile, at these words. 'Iwas just going to say how short the days have grown, as if it had allhappened without notice, and contrary to the almanac; but really the sunsets cruelly early this evening, and I am so _very_ sorry our little walkis so soon to end.'

  There was not much in this little speech, but it was spoken in a low,sweet voice; and Rachel looked down on the ferns before her feet, as theywalked on side by side, not with a smile, but with a blush, and thatbeautiful look of gratification so becoming and indescribable. Happy thatmoment--that enchanted moment of oblivion and illusion! But the fitfulevening breeze came up through Redman's Dell, with a gentle sweep overthe autumnal foliage. Sudden as a sigh, and cold; in her ear it soundedlike a whisper or a shudder, and she lifted up her eyes and saw thedarkening dell before her; and with a pang, the dreadful sense of realityreturned. She stopped, with something almost wild in her look. But withan effort she smiled, and said, with a little shiver, 'The air has grownquite chill, and the sun nearly set; we loitered, Stanley and I, a greatdeal too long in the park, but I am now at home, and I fear I havebrought you much too far out of your way already; good-bye.' And sheextended her hand.

  'You must not dismiss your escort here. I must see you through theenchanted dell--it is only a step--and then I shall return with a goodconscience, like a worthy knight, having done my devoir honestly.'

  She looked down the dell, with a dark and painful glance, and then shesaid a few words of hesitating apology and acquiescence, and in a fewminutes more they parted at the little wicket of Redman's Farm. Theyshook hands. He had a few pleasant, lingering words to say. She paused ashe spoke at the other side of that little garden door. She seemed to likethose lingering sentences--and hung upon them--and even smiled but in hereyes there was a vague and melancholy pleading--a wandering andunfathomable look that pained him.

  They shook hands again--it was the third time--and then she walked up thelittle gravel walk, hardly a dozen steps, and disappeared within the doorof Redman's Farm, without turning another parting look on Lord Chelford,who remained at the little paling--expecting one, I think--to lift hishat and say one more parting word.

  She turned into the little drawing-room at the left, and, herself unseen,did take that last look, and saw him go up the road again towardsBrandon. The shadows and mists of Redman's Dell anticipated night, and itwas already deep twilight there.

  On the table there lay a letter which Margery had brought from thepost-office. So Rachel lighted her candles and read it with very littleinterest, for it concerned a world towards which she had few yearnings.There was just one sentence which startled her attention: it said, 'Weshall soon be at Knowlton--for Christmas, I suppose. It is growing toowintry for mamma near the sea, though I like it better in a high windthan in a calm; and a gale is such fun--such a romp. The Dulhamptons havearrived: the old Marchioness never appears till three o'clock, and onlyout in the carriage twice since they came. I can't say I very much admireLady Constance, though she is to be Chelford's wife. She has fineeyes--and I think no other good point--much too dark for my taste--butthey say clever;' and not another word was there on this subject.

  'Lady Constance! arranged, I suppose, by Lady Chelford--no great dot--andan unamiable family--an odious family--nothing to recommend her but herrank.'

  So ruminated Rachel Lake as she looked out on her shadowy garden, andtapped a little feverish tattoo with her finger on the window pane; andshe meditated a great while, trying to bring back distinctly herrecollection of Lady Constance, and also vaguely conjecturing who hadarranged the marriage, and how it had come about.

  'Chelford cannot like her. It is all Lady Chelford's doing. Can I havemistaken the name?'

  But no. Nothing could be more perfectly distinct than 'Chelford,' tracedin her fair correspondent's very legible hand.

  'He treats the young lady very coolly,' thought Rachel, forgetting,perhaps, that his special relations to Dorcas Brandon had compelled hisstay in that part of the world.

  Mingled with this criticism, was a feeling quite unavowed even toherself--a sore feeling that Lord Chelford had been--and this she neveradmitted to herself before--more particular--no, not exactly that--butmore something or other--not exactly
expressible in words, in hisapproaches to her, than was consistent with his situation. But then shehad been very guarded; not stiff or prudish, indeed, but frank and coldenough with him, and that was comforting.

  Still there was a sense of wonder--a great blank, and something of painin the discovery--yes, pain--though she smiled a faint blushingsmile--alone as she was; and then came a deep sigh; and then a sort ofstart.

  'Rachel, Rachel, is it possible?' murmured the young lady, with the samedubious smile, looking down upon the ground, and shaking her head. 'Yes,I do really think you had begun to like Lord Chelford--only _begun_, theleast little insidious bit; but thank you, wild Bessie Frankleyn, youhave quite opened my eyes. Rachel, Rachel, girl! what a fool you werenear becoming!'

  She looked like her old pleasant self during this little speech--arch andfresh, and still smiling--she looked up and sighed, and then her darklook returned, and she said dismally,

  'What utter madness!'

  And leaned for a while with her fingers upon the window sash; and whenshe turned to old Tamar, who brought in her tiny tea equipage, it seemedas if the shadow of the dell, into which she had been vacantly gazing,still rested on her face.

  'Not here, Tamar; I'll drink tea in my room; and you must bring yourtea-cup, too, and we'll take it together. I am--I think I am--a littlenervous, darling, and you won't leave me?'

  So they sat down together in her chamber. It was a cheery littlebed-room, when the shutters were closed, and the fire burning brightly inthe grate.

  'My good Tamar will read her chapters aloud. I wish I could enjoy themlike you. I can only wish. You must pray for me, Tamar. There is adreadful image--and I sometimes think a dreadful being always near me.Though the words you read are sad and awful, they are also sweet, likefuneral music a long way off, and they tranquillise me without making mebetter, as the harping of David did the troubled and forsaken King Saul.'

  So the old nurse mounted her spectacles, glad of the invitation, andbegan to read. Her reading was very, slow, and had other faults too,being in that sing-song style to which some people inexplicably like toread Holy Writ; but it was reverent and distinct, and I have heard worseeven in the reading desk.

  'Stop,' said Rachel suddenly, as she reached about the middle of thechapter.

  The old woman looked up, with her watery eyes wide open, and there was ashort pause.

  'I beg your pardon, dear Tamar, but you must first tell me that story youused to tell me long ago of Lady Ringdove, that lived in Epping Forest,to whom the ghost came and told something she was never to reveal, andwho slowly died of the secret, growing all the time more and more likethe spectre; and besought the priest when she was dying, that he wouldhave her laid in the abbey vault, with her mouth open, and her eyes andears sealed, in token that her term of slavery was over, that her lipsmight now be open, and that her eyes were to see no more the dreadfulsight, nor her ears to hear the frightful words that used to scare themin her life-time; and then, you remember, whenever afterwards they openedthe door of the vault, the wind entering in, made such moanings in herhollow mouth, and declared things so horrible that they built up the doorof the vault, and entered it no more. Let me have the entire story, justas you used to tell it.'

  So old Tamar, who knew it was no use disputing a fancy of her youngmistress, although on Sunday night she would have preferred other talk,recounted her old tale of wonder.

  'Yes, it is true--a true allegory, I mean, Tamar. Death will close theeyes and ears against the sights and sounds of earth; but even the tombsecures no secrecy. The dead themselves declare their dreadful secrets,open-mouthed, to the winds. Oh, Tamar! turn over the pages, and try tofind some part which says where safety and peace may be found at anyprice; for sometimes I think I am almost bereft of--reason.'