CHAPTER XXXIX.
IN WHICH MISS RACHEL LAKE COMES TO BRANDON, AND DOCTOR BUDDLE CALLSAGAIN.
In about an hour afterwards, Rachel Lake arrived in the carriage whichhad been despatched for her with Dorcas's note.
She was a good deal muffled up, and looked very pale, and asked whetherMiss Brandon was in her room, whither she glided rapidly up stairs. Itwas a sort of boudoir or dressing-room, with a few pretty old portraitsand miniatures, and a number of Louis Quatorze looking-glasses hunground, and such pretty quaint cabriole gilt and pale green furniture.
Dorcas met her at the door, and they kissed silently.
'How is he, Dorcas?'
'Very ill, dear, I'm afraid--sit down, darling.'
Rachel was relieved, for in her panic she almost feared to ask if he wereliving.
'Is there immediate danger?'
'The doctor says not, but he is very much alarmed for to-morrow.'
'Oh! Dorcas, darling, he'll die; I know it. Oh! merciful Heaven! howtremendous.'
'You will not be so frightened in a little time. You have only just heardit, Rachel dearest, and you are startled. I was so myself.'
'I'd like to see him, Dorcas.'
'Sit here a little and rest, dear. The doctor will make his visitimmediately, and then we can ask him. He's a good-natured littlecreature--poor old Buddle--and I am certain if it can safely be, he won'tprevent it.'
'Where is he, darling--where is Stanley?'
So Dorcas described as well as she could.
'Oh, poor Stanley. Oh, Stanley--poor Stanley,' gasped Rachel, with whitelips. 'You have no idea, Dorcas--no one can--how terrific it is. Oh, poorStanley--poor Stanley.'
'Drink this water, darling; you must not be so excited.'
'Dorcas, say what the doctor may, see him I must.'
'There is time to think of that, darling.'
'Has he spoken to anyone?'
'Very little, I believe. He whispers a few words now and then--that isall.'
'Nothing to Chelford--nothing particular, I mean?'
'No--nothing--at least that I have heard of.'
'Did he wish to see no one?'
'No one, dear.'
'Not poor William Wylder?'
'No, dear. I don't suppose he cares more for a clergyman than for anyother man; none of his family ever did, when they came to lie on a bed ofsickness, or of death either.'
'No, no,' said Rachel, wildly; 'I did not mean to pray. I was notthinking of that; but William Wylder was different; and he did notmention _me_ either?'
Dorcas shook her head.
'I knew it,' continued Rachel, with a kind of shudder. 'And tell me,Dorcas, does he know that he is in danger--such imminent danger?'
'That I cannot say, Rachel, dear. I don't believe doctors like to telltheir patients so.'
There was a silence of some minutes, and Rachel, clasping her hands in anagony, said--
'Oh, yes--he's gone--he's certainly gone; and I remain alone under thatdreadful burden.'
'Please, Miss Brandon, the doctor's down stairs with Captain Lake,' saidthe maid, opening the door.
'Is Lord Chelford with him?'
'Yes, Miss, please.'
'Then tell him I will be so obliged if he will come here for a moment,when the doctor is gone; and ask the doctor now, from me, how he thinksCaptain Lake.'
In a little while the maid returned. Captain Lake was not so low, andrather better than this morning, the doctor said; and Rachel raised hereyes, and whispered an agitated thanksgiving. 'Was Lord Chelford coming?'
'His lordship had left the room when she returned, and Mr. Larcom said hewas with Lawyer Larkin in the library.'
'Mr. Larkin can wait. Tell Lord Chelford I wish very much to see himhere.'
So away went the maid again. A message in that great house was a journey;and there was a little space before they heard a knock at the door ofDorcas's pretty room, and Lord Chelford, duly invited, came in.
Lord Chelford was surprised to see Rachel, and held her hand, while hecongratulated her on the more favourable opinion of the physician thisafternoon; and then he gave them, as fully and exactly as he could, allthe lights emitted by Dr. Buddle, and endeavoured to give his narrativeas cheerful and confident an air as he could. Then, at length, herecollected that Mr. Larkin was waiting in the study.
'I quite forgot Mr. Larkin,' said he; 'I left him in the library, and Iam so very glad we have had a pleasanter report upon poor Lake thisevening; and I am sure we shall all feel more comfortable on seeing SirFrancis Seddley. He _is_ such an admirable surgeon; and I feel sure he'llstrike out something for our poor patient. I've known him hit upon suchoriginal expedients, and make such wonderful successes.'
So with a kind smile he left the room.
Then there was a long pause.
'Does he really think that Stanley will recover?' said Rachel.
'I don't know; I suppose he hopes it. I don't know, Rachel, what to thinkof anyone or anything. What wild beasts they are. How "swift to shedblood," as poor William Wylder said last Sunday. Have you any idea whatthey quarrelled about?'
'None in the world. It was that odious Sir Harry Bracton--was not it?'
'Why so odious, Rachel? How can you tell which was in the wrong? I onlyknow he seems to be a better marksman than your poor brother.'
Rachel looked at her with something of haughty and surprised displeasure,but said nothing.
'You look at me, Radie, as if I were a monster--or _monstress_, I shouldsay--whereas I am only a Brandon. Don't you remember how our greatancestor, who fought for the House of York, changed suddenly toLancaster, and how Sir Richard left the King and took part with Cromwell,not for any particular advantage, I believe, or for any particular reasoneven, but for wickedness and wounded pride, perhaps.'
'I don't quite see your meaning, Dorcas. I can't understand how _your_pride has been hurt; but if Stanley had any, I can well imagine whattorture it must have endured; wretched, wicked, punished fool!'
'You suspect what they fought about, Radie!'
Rachel made no answer.
'You do, Radie, and why do you dissemble with me?'
'I don't dissemble; I don't care to speak; but if you will have me sayso, I _do_ suspect--I think it must have originated in jealousy of you.'
'You look, Radie, as if you thought I had managed it--whereas I reallydid not care.'
'I do not understand you, Dorcas; but you appear to me very cruel, andyou smile, as I say so.'
'I smile, because I sometimes think so myself.'
With a fixed and wrathful stare Rachel returned the enigmatical gaze ofher beautiful cousin.
'If Stanley dies, Dorcas, Sir Harry Bracton shall hear of it. I'll losemy life, but he shall pay the forfeit of his crime.'
So saying, Rachel left the room, and gliding through passages, and downstairs, she knocked at Stanley's door. The old woman opened it.
'Ah, Dorothy! I'm so glad to see _you_ here!' and she put a present inher hard, crumpled hand.
So, noiselessly, Rachel Lake, without more parley, stepped into the room,and closed the door. She was alone with Stanley With a beating heart, anda kind of chill stealing over her, by her brother's bed.
The room was not so dark that she could not see distinctly enough.
There lay her brother, such as he was--still her brother, on the bleak,neutral ground between life and death. His features, peaked and earthy,and that look, so new and peculiar, which does not savour of life uponthem. He did not move, but his strange eyes gazed cold and earnest fromtheir deep sockets upon her face in awful silence. Perhaps he thought hesaw a phantom.
'Are you better, dear?' whispered Rachel.
His lips stirred and his throat, but he did not speak until a secondeffort brought utterance, and he murmured,
'Is that you, Radie?'
'Yes, dear. Are you better?'
'_No_. I'm shot. I shall die to-night. Is it night yet?'
'Don't despair, Stanley, dear. The great L
ondon doctor, Sir FrancisSeddley, will be with you early in the morning, and Chelford has greatconfidence in him. I'm sure he will relieve you.'
'This is Brandon?' murmured Lake.
'Yes, dear.'
She thought he was going to say more, but he remained silent, and sherecollected that he ought not to speak, and also that she had that to saywhich must be said.
Sharp, dark, and strange lay that familiar face upon the white pillow.The faintest indication of something like a peevish sneer; it might beonly the lines of pain and fatigue; still it had that unpleasantcharacter remaining fixed on its features.
'Oh, Stanley! you say you think you are dying. Won't you send for WilliamWylder and Chelford, and tell all you know of Mark?'
She saw he was about to say something, and she leaned her head near hislips, and she heard him whisper,--
'It won't serve Mark.'
'I'm thinking of _you_, Stanley--I'm thinking of you.'
To which he said either 'Yes' or 'So.' She could not distinguish.
'I view it now quite differently. You said, you know, in the park, youwould tell Chelford; and I resisted, I believe, but I don't now. I had_rather_ you did. Yes, Stanley, I conjure you to tell it all.'
The cold lips, with a livid halo round them, murmured, 'Thank you.'
It was a sneer, very shocking just then, perhaps; but unquestionably asneer.
'Poor Stanley!' she murmured, with a kind of agony, looking down uponthat changed face. 'One word more, Stanley. Remember, it's I, the onlyone on earth who stands near you in kindred, your sister, Stanley, whoimplores of you to take this step before it is too late; at least, toconsider.'
He said something. She thought it was 'I'll think;' and then he closedhis eyes. It was the only motion she had observed, his face lay just asit had done on the pillow. He had not stirred all the time she was there;and now that his eyelids closed, it seemed to say, our interview isover--the curtain has dropped; and so understanding it, with that oneawful look that may be the last, she glided from the bed-side, told oldDorothy that he seemed disposed to sleep, and left the room.
There is something awful always in the spectacle of such a sick-bed asthat beside which Rachel had just stood. But not quite so dreadful is thesight as are the imaginings and the despair of absence. So reassuring isthe familiar spectacle of life, even in its subsidence, so long as bodilytorture and mental aberration are absent.
In the meanwhile, on his return to the library, Lord Chelford found hisdowager mother in high chat with the attorney, whom she afterwardspronounced 'a very gentlemanlike man for his line of life.'
The conversation, indeed, was chiefly that of Lady Chelford, theexemplary attorney contributing, for the most part, a politeacquiescence, and those reflections which most appositely pointed themoral of her ladyship's tale, which concerned altogether the vagaries ofMark Wylder--a subject which piqued her curiosity and irritated herpassions.
It was a great day for Jos. Larkin; for by the time Lord Chelfordreturned the old lady had asked him to stay for dinner, which he did,notwithstanding his morning dress, to his great inward satisfaction,because he could henceforward mention, 'the other day, when I dined atBrandon,' or 'old Lady Chelford assured me, when last I dined atBrandon;' and he could more intimately speak of 'our friends at Brandon,'and 'the Brandon people,' and, in short, this dinner was very serviceableto the excellent attorney.
It was not very amusing this interchange of thought and feeling betweenLarkin and the dowager, upon a theme already so well ventilated as MarkWylder's absconding, and therefore I let it pass.
After dinner, when the dowager's place knew her no more, Lord Chelfordresumed his talk with Larkin.
'I am quite confirmed in the view I took at first,' he said. 'Wylder hasno claim upon me. There are others on whom much more naturally the careof his money would devolve, and I think that my undertaking the office heproposes, under his present strange circumstances, might appear like anacquiescence in the extraordinary course he has taken, and a sanctiongenerally of his conduct, which I certainly can't approve. So, Mr.Larkin, I have quite made up my mind. I have no business to undertakethis trust, simple as it is.'
'I have only, my lord, to bow to your lordship's decision; at the sametime I cannot but feel, my lord, how peculiar and painful is the positionin which it places me. There are rents to be received by me, and sumshanded over, to a considerable--I may say, indeed, a very large amount:and my friend Lake--Captain Lake--now, unhappily, in so very precarious astate, appears to dislike the office, also, and to anticipate annoyance,in the event of his consenting to act. Altogether, your lordship willperceive that the situation is one of considerable, indeed very greatembarrassment, as respects me. There is, however, one satisfactorycircumstance disclosed in his last letter. His return, he says, cannot bedelayed beyond a very few months, perhaps _weeks;_ and he states, in hisown rough way, that he will then explain the motives of his conduct tothe entire satisfaction of all those who are cognizant of the measureswhich he has adopted--no more claret, thanks--no more--a deliciouswine--and he adds, it will then be quite understood that hehas acted neither from caprice, nor from any motive other thanself-preservation. I assure you, my lord, that is the identical phrase heemploys--self-preservation. I all along suspected, or, rather, I mean,supposed, that Mr. Wylder had been placed in this matter undercoercion--a--a threat.'
'A little more wine?' asked Lord Chelford, after another interval.
'No--no more, I thank you. Your lordship's very good, and the wine, I maysay, excellent--delicious claret; indeed, quite so--ninety shillings adozen, I should venture to say, and hardly to be had at that figure; butit grows late, I rather think, and the trustees of our little Wesleyanchapel--we've got a little into debt in that quarter, I am sorry tosay--and I promised to advise with them this evening at nine o'clock.They have called me to counsel more than once, poor fellows; and so, withyour lordship's permission, I'll withdraw.'
Lord Chelford walked with him to the steps. It was a beautifulnight--very little moon, but that and the stars wonderfully clear andbright, and all things looking so soft and airy.
'Try one of these,' said the peer, presenting his cigar case.
Larkin, with a glow of satisfaction, took one of these noble cigars, androlled it in his fingers, and smelt it.
'Fragrant--wonderfully fragrant!' he observed, meekly, with aconnoisseur's shake of the head.
The night was altogether so charming that Lord Chelford was tempted. Sohe took his cap, and lighted his cigar, too, and strolled a little waywith the attorney.
He walked under the solemn trees--the same under whose airy groyningWylder and Lake had walked away together on that noteworthy night onwhich Mark had last turned his back upon the grand old gables and twistedchimneys of Brandon Hall.
This way was rather a round, it must be confessed, to the Lodge--Jos,Larkin's peaceful retreat. But a stroll with a lord was worth more thanthat sacrifice, and every incident which helped to make a colourable caseof confidential relations at Brandon--a point in which the good attorneyhad been rather weak hitherto--was justly prized by that virtuous man.
If the trustees, Smith the pork-butcher, old Captain Snoggles, the TownClerk, and the rest, had to wait some twenty minutes in the drawing-roomat the Lodge, so much the better. An apology was, perhaps, the best andmost modest shape into which he could throw the advertisement of hisdinner at Brandon--his confidential talk with the proud old dowager, andhis after-dinner ramble with that rising young peer, Lord Chelford. Itwould lead him gracefully into detail, and altogether the idea, thesituation, the scene and prospect, were so soothing and charming, thatthe good attorney felt a silent exaltation as he listened to LordChelford's two or three delighted sentences upon the illimitable wondersand mysteries glimmering in the heavens above them.
The cigar was delicious, the air balmy and pleasant, his digestion happy,the society unexceptionably aristocratic--a step had just been gained,and his consideration in the town and the country round
improved, by theoccurrences of the evening, and his whole system, in consequence, in astate so serene, sweet and satisfactory, that I really believe there wasgenuine moisture in his pink, dove-like eyes, as he lifted them to theheavens, and murmured, 'Beautiful, beautiful!' And he mistook hissensations for a holy rapture and silent worship.
Cigars, like other pleasures, are transitory. Lord Chelford threw awayhis stump, tendered his case again to Mr. Larkin, and then took hisleave, walking slowly homewards.
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