Wylder's Hand

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  AFTER THE BALL.

  Lake glided from the feast with a sense of a tremendous liability uponhim. There was no retreat. The morning--yes, the morning--what then?Should he live to see the evening? Sir Harry Bracton was the crack shotof Swivel's gallery. He could hit a walking-cane at fifteen yards, at theword. There he was, talking to old Lady Chelford. Very well; and therewas that fellow with the twisted moustache--plainly an officer and agentleman--twisting the end of one of them, and thinking profoundly, withhis back to the wall, evidently considering his coming diplomacy withLake's 'friend.' Aye, by-the-bye, and Lake's eye wandered in bewildermentamong village dons and elderly country gentlemen, in search of thatinestimable treasure.

  These thoughts went whisking and whirling round in Captain Lake's brain,to the roar and clatter of the Joinville Polka, to which fifty pair ofdancing feet were hopping and skimming over the floor.

  'Monstrous hot, Sir--hey? ha, ha, by Jove!' said Major Jackson, who hadjust returned from the supper-room, where he had heard several narrativesof the occurrence. 'Don't think I was so hot since the ball at GovernmentHouse, by Jove, Sir, in 1828--awful summer that!'

  The major was jerking his handkerchief under his florid nose and chin, byway of ventilation; and eyeing the young man shrewdly the while, to readwhat he might of the story in his face.

  'Been in Calcutta, Lake?'

  'No; very hot, indeed. Could I say just a word with you--this way alittle. So glad I met you.' And they edged into a little nook of thelobby, where they had a few minutes' confidential talk, during which themajor looked grave and consequential, and carried his head high, noddingnow and then with military decision.

  Major Jackson whispered an abrupt word or two in his ear, and threw backhis head, eyeing Lake with grave and sly defiance. Then came anotherwhisper and a wink; and the major shook his hand, briefly but hard, andthe gentlemen parted.

  Lake strolled into the ball-room, and on to the upper end, where the'best' people are, and suddenly he was in Miss Brandon's presence.

  'I've been very presumptuous, I fear, to-night, Miss Brandon, he said, inhis peculiar low tones. 'I've been very importunate--I prized the honourI sought so very much, I forgot how little I deserved it. And I do notthink it likely you'll see me for a good while--possibly for a very longtime. I've therefore ventured to come, merely to say good-bye--only that,just--good-bye. And--and to beg that flower'--and he plucked itresolutely from her bouquet--'which I will keep while I live. Good-bye,Miss Brandon.'

  And Captain Stanley Lake, that pale apparition, was gone.

  I do not know at all how Miss Brandon felt at this instant; for I nevercould quite understand that strange lady. But I believe she looked alittle pale as she gravely adjusted the flowers so audaciously violatedby the touch of the cool young gentleman.

  I can't say whether Miss Brandon deigned to follow him with her dark,dreamy gaze. I rather think not. And three minutes afterwards he had leftthe Town Hall.

  The Brandon party did not stay very late. And they dropped Rachel at herlittle dwelling. How very silent Dorcas was, thought Rachel, as theydrove from Gylingden. Perhaps others were thinking the same of Rachel.

  Next morning, at half-past seven o'clock, a dozen or so of rustics, undercommand of Major Jackson, arrived at the back entrance of Brandon Hall,bearing Stanley Lake upon a shutter, with glassy eyes, that did not seemto see, sunken face, and a very blue tinge about his mouth.

  The major fussed into the house, and saw and talked with Larcom, who wassolemn and bland upon the subject, and went out, first, to make personalinspection of the captain, who seemed to him to be dying. He was shotsomewhere in the shoulder or breast--they could not see exactly where,nor disturb him as he lay. A good deal of blood had flowed from him, uponthe arm and side of one of the men who supported his head.

  Lake said nothing--he only whispered rather indistinctly one word,'water'--and was not able to lift his head when it came; and when theypoured it into and over his lips, he sighed and closed his eyes.

  'It is not a bad sign, bleeding so freely, but he looks devilish shaky,you see. I've seen lots of our fellows hit, you know, and I don't likehis looks--poor fellow. You'd better see Lord Chelford this minute. Hecould not stand being brought all the way to the town. I'll run down andsend up the doctor, and he'll take him on if he can bear it.'

  Major Jackson did not run. Though I have seen with an astonishment thathas never subsided, fellows just as old and as fat, and braced up,besides, in the inflexibilities of regimentals, keeping up at doublequick, at the heads of their companies, for a good quarter of a mile,before the colonel on horseback mercifully called a halt.

  He walked at his best pace, however, and indeed was confoundedly uneasyabout his own personal liabilities.

  The major surprised Doctor Buddle shaving. He popped in unceremoniously.The fat little doctor received him in drawers and a very tight webworsted shirt, standing by the window, at which dangled a smalllooking-glass.

  'By George, Sir, they've been at mischief,' burst forth the major; andthe doctor, razor in hand, listened with wide open eyes and half his facelathered, to the story. Before it was over the doctor shaved the unshornside, and (the major still in the room) completed his toilet in hothaste.

  Honest Major Jackson was very uncomfortable. Of course, Buddle could notgive any sort of opinion upon a case which he had not seen; but itdescribed uglily, and the major consulted in broken hints, with an uneasywink or two, about a flight to Boulogne.

  'Well, it will be no harm to be ready; but take no step till I comeback,' said the doctor, who had stuffed a great roll of lint andplaister, and some other medicinals, into one pocket, and his leathercase of instruments, forceps, probe, scissors, and all the other steeland silver horrors, into the other; so he strutted forth in his greatcoat, unnaturally broad about the hips; and the major, 'devilishuncomfortable,' accompanied him at a smart pace to the great gate ofBrandon. He did not care to enter, feeling a little guilty, although heexplained on the way all about the matter. How devilish stiff Bracton'sman was about it. And, by Jove, Sir! you know, what was to be said? forLake, like a fool, chucked a lot of grapes in his face--for nothing, byGeorge!'

  The doctor, short and broad, was now stumping up the straight avenue,under the noble trees that roofed it over, and Major Jackson saunteredabout in the vicinity of the gate, more interested in Lake's safety thanhe would have believed possible a day or two before.

  Lord Chelford being an early man, was, notwithstanding the ball of thepreceding night, dressing, when St. Ange, his Swiss servant, knocked athis door with a dozen pockethandkerchiefs, a bottle of eau-de-cologne,and some other properties of his metier.

  St. Ange could not wait until he had laid them down, but broke out with--

  'Oh, mi Lor!--qu'est-il arrive?--le pauvre capitaine! il est tue--il semeurt--he dies--d'un coup de pistolet. He comes de se battre from beatinghimself in duel--il a ete atteint dans la poitrine--le pauvregentil-homme! of a blow of the pistol.'

  And so on, the young nobleman gathering the facts as best he might.

  'Is Larcom there?'

  'In the gallery, mi lor.'

  'Ask him to come in.'

  So Monsieur Larcom entered, and bowed ominously.

  'You've seen him, Larcom. Is he very much hurt?'

  'He appears, my lord, to me, I regret to say, almost a-dying like.'

  'Very weak? Does he speak to you?'

  'Not a word, my lord. Since he got a little water he's quite quiet.'

  'Poor fellow. Where have you put him?'

  'In the housekeeper's lobby, my lord. I rather think he's a-dying. Helooks uncommon bad, and I and Mrs. Esterbroke, the housekeeper, my lord,thought you would not like he should die out of doors.'

  'Has she got your mistress's directions?'

  'Miss Brandon is not called up, my lord, and Mrs. Esterbroke is unwillin'to halarm her; so she thought it better I should come for orders to yourlordship; which she thinks also the po
or young gentleman is certainlya-dying.'

  'Is there any vacant bed-room near where you have placed him? What doesMrs. ---- the housekeeper, say?'

  'She thinks, my lord, the room hopposit, where Mr. Sledd, the architeck,slep, when 'ere, would answer very nice. It is roomy and hairy, and nosteps. Major Jackson, who is gone to the town to fetch the doctor, mylord, says Mr. Lake won't a-bear carriage; and so the room on the level,my lord, would, perhaps, be more convenient.'

  'Certainly; tell her so. I will speak to Miss Brandon when she comesdown. How soon will the doctor be here?'

  'From a quarter to half an hour, my lord.'

  'Then tell the housekeeper to arrange as she proposes, and don't removehis clothes until the doctor comes. Everyone must assist. I know, St.Ange, you'll like to assist.'

  So Larcom withdrew ceremoniously, and Lord Chelford hastened his toilet,and was down stairs, and in the room assigned by the housekeeper to theill-starred Captain Lake, before Doctor Buddle had arrived.

  It had already the dismal character of a sick chamber. Its light wasdarkened; its talk was in whispers; and its to-ings and fro-ings ontip-toe. An obsolete chambermaid had been already installed as nurse.Little Mrs. Esterbroke, the housekeeper, was fussing hither and thitherabout the room noiselessly.

  So this gay, astute man of fashion had fallen into the dungeon of suddendarkness, and the custody of old women; and lay helpless in the stocks,awaiting the judgment of Buddle. Ridiculous little pudgy Buddle--howawful on a sudden are you grown--the interpreter of death in this verycase. '_My_ case,' thought that seemingly listless figure on the bed;'_my_ case--I suppose it _is_ fatal--I am to go out of this room in along cloth-covered box. I am going to try, alone and for ever, the valueof those theories of futurity and the unseen which I have quietly scoutedall my days. Oh, that the prophet Buddle were here, to end my tremendoussuspense, and to announce a reprieve from Heaven.'

  While the wounded captain lay on the bed, with his clothes on, and thecoverlet over him, and that clay-coloured apathetic face, with closedeyes, upon the pillow, without sigh or motion, not a whispered wordescaped him; but his brain was appalled, and his heart died within him inthe unspeakable horror of death.

  Lord Chelford, too, having looked on Lake with silent, but awfulmisgivings, longed for the arrival of the doctor; and was listening andsilent when Buddle's short step and short respiration were heard in thepassage. So Larcom came to the door to announce the doctor in a whisper,and Buddle fussed into the room, and made his bow to Lord Chelford, andhis brief compliments and condolences.

  'Not asleep?' he enquired, standing by the bed.

  The captain's lips moved a disclaimer, I suppose, but no sound came.

  So the doctor threw open the window-shutters, and clipped Stanley Lake'sexquisite coat ruthlessly through with his scissors, and having clearedthe room of all useless hands, he made his examination.

  It was a long visit. Buddle in the hall afterwards declined breakfast--hehad a board to attend. He told Lord Chelford that the case was 'a verynasty one.'

  In fact, the chances were against the captain, and he, Buddle, would wisha consultation with a London surgeon--whoever Lord Chelford lead mostconfidence in--Sir Francis Seddley, he thought, would be verydesirable--but, of course, it was for the family to decide. If themessenger caught the quarter to eleven up train at Dollington, he wouldbe in London at six, and could return with the doctor by the down mailtrain, and so reach Dollington at ten minutes past four next morning,which would answer, as he would not operate sooner.

  As the doctor toddled towards Gylingden, with sympathetic Major Tacksonby his side, before they entered the town they were passed by one of theBrandon men riding at a hard canter for Dollington.

  'London?' shouted the doctor, as the man touched his hat in passing.

  'Yes, Sir.'

  'Glad o' that,' said the major, looking after him.

  'So am I,' said the learned Buddle. 'I don't see how we're to get thebullet out of him, without mischief. Poor devil, I'm afraid he'll do nogood.'

  The ladies that morning had tea in their rooms. It was near twelveo'clock when Lord Chelford saw Miss Brandon. She was in the conservatoryamongst her flowers, and on seeing him stepped into the drawing-room.

  'I hope, Dorcas, you are not angry with me. I've been, I'm afraid, veryimpertinent; but I was called on to decide for you, in your absence, andthey all thought poor Lake could not be moved on to Gylingden withoutdanger.'

  'You did quite rightly, Chelford, and I thank you,' said Miss Brandon,coldly; and she seated herself, and continued--

  'Pray, what does the doctor really say?'

  'He speaks very seriously.'

  'Does he think there is danger?'

  'Very great danger.'

  Miss Brandon looked down, and then, with a pale gaze suddenly inChelford's face--

  'He thinks he may die?' said she.

  'Yes,' said Lord Chelford, in a very low tone, returning her gazesolemnly.

  'And nobody to advise but that village doctor, Buddle--that's hardlycredible, I think.'

  'Pardon me. At his suggestion I have sent for Sir Francis Seddley, fromtown, and I hope he may arrive early to-morrow morning.'

  'Why, Stanley Lake may die to-day.'

  'He does not apprehend that. But it is necessary to remove the bullet,and the operation will be critical, and it is for that specially that SirFrancis is coming down.'

  'It is to take place to-morrow, and he'll die in that operation. You knowhe'll die,' said Dorcas, pale and fierce.

  'I assure you, Dorcas, I have been perfectly frank. He looks upon poorLake as in very great danger--but that is all.'

  'What brutes you men are!' said Dorcas, with a wild scorn in her look andaccent, and her cheeks flushed with passion. 'You knew quite well lastnight there was to be this wicked duel in the morning--and you--amagistrate--a lord-lieutenant--what are you?--you connived at this bloodyconspiracy--and _he_--your own cousin, Chelford--your cousin!'

  Chelford looked at her, very much amazed.

  'Yes; you are worse than Sir Harry Bracton--for you're no fool; and worsethan that wicked old man. Major Jackson--who shall never enter thesedoors again--for he was employed--trusted in their brutal plans; but youhad no excuse and every opportunity--and you have allowed your CousinStanley to be murdered.'

  'You do me great injustice, Dorcas. I did not know, or even suspect thata hostile meeting between poor Lake and Bracton was thought of. I merelyheard that there had been some trifling altercation in the supper-room;and when, intending to make peace between them, I alluded to it, justbefore we left, and Bracton said it was really nothing--quite blownover--and that he could not recollect what either had said. I wasentirely deceived--you know I speak truth--quite deceived. They think itfair, you know, to dupe other people in such affairs; and I will alsosay,' he continued, a little haughtily, 'that you might have spared yourcensure until at least you had heard what I had to say.'

  'I do believe you, Chelford; you are not vexed with me. Won't you shakehands?'

  He took her hand with a smile.

  'And now,' said she, 'Chelford, ought not we to send for poor Rachel: heronly brother? Is not it sad?'

  'Certainly; shall I ask my mother, or will you write?'

  'I will write,' she said.