Wylder's Hand

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  CHAPTER LXII.

  THE CAPTAIN EXPLAINS WHY MARK WYLDER ABSCONDED.

  'How delicious these violets are!' said Stanley, leaning for a momentover the fragrant purple dome that crowned a china stand on the marbletable they were passing. 'You love flowers, Dorkie. Every perfect womanis, I think, a sister of Flora's. You are looking pale--you have not beenill? No! I'm very glad you say so. Sit down for a moment and listen,darling. And first I'll tell you, upon my honour, what Rachel has beenworrying me about.'

  Dorcas sate beside him on the sofa, and he placed his slender armaffectionately round her waist.

  'You must know, Dorkie, that before his sudden departure, Mark Wylderpromised to lend William, his brother, a sum sufficient to relieve him ofall his pressing debts.'

  'Debts! I never knew before that he had any,' exclaimed Dorcas. 'PoorWilliam! I am so sorry.'

  'Well, he has, like other fellows, only he can't get away as easily, andhe has been very much pressed since Mark went, for he has not yet lenthim a guinea, and in fact Rachel says she thinks he is in danger of beingregularly sold out. She does not say she knows it, but only that shesuspects they are in a great fix about money.'

  'Well, you must know that _I_ was the sole cause of Mark Wylder's leavingthe country.'

  '_You_, Stanley!'

  'Yes, _I_, Dorkie. I believe I thought I was doing a duty; but really Iwas nearly mad with _jealousy_, and simply doing my utmost to drive arival from _your_ presence. And yet, without hope for myself,_desperately_ in love.'

  Dorcas looked down and smiled oddly; it was a sad and bitter smile, andseemed to ask whither has that desperate love, in so short a time, flown?

  'I know I was right. He was a stained man, and was liable at any momentto be branded. It was villainous in him to seek to marry you. I told himat last that, unless he withdrew, your friends should know all. Iexpected he would show fight, and that a meeting would follow; and Ireally did not much care whether I were killed or not. But he went, onthe contrary, rather quietly, threatening to pay me off, however, thoughhe did not say how. He's a cunning dog, and not very soft-hearted; andhas no more conscience than that,' and he touched his finger to the coldsummit of a marble bust.

  'He is palpably machinating something to my destruction with aninfluential attorney on whom I keep a watch, and he has got some fellownamed Dutton into the conspiracy; and not knowing how they mean to act,and only knowing how utterly wicked, cunning, and bloody-minded he is,and that he hates me as he probably never hated anyone before, I must beprepared to meet him, and, if possible, to blow up that Satanic cabal,which without _money_ I can't. It was partly a mystification about theelection; of course, it will be expensive, but nothing like the other.Are you ill, Dorkie?'

  He might well ask, for she appeared on the point of fainting.

  Dorcas had read and heard stories of men seemingly no worse than theirneighbours--nay, highly esteemed, and praised, and liked--who yet werehaunted by evil men, who encountered them in lonely places, or by night,and controlled them by the knowledge of some dreadful crime. WasStanley--her husband--whose character she had begun to discern, whosehabitual mystery was, somehow, tinged in her mind with a shade of horror,one of this two-faced, diabolical order of heroes?

  Why should he dread this cabal, as he called it, even though directed bythe malignant energy of the absent and shadowy Mark Wylder? What couldall the world do to harm him in free England, if he were innocent, if hewere what he seemed--no worse than his social peers?

  Why should it be necessary to buy off the conspirators whom a guiltlessman would defy and punish?

  The doubt did not come in these defined shapes. As a halo surrounds asaint, a shadow rose suddenly, and enveloped pale, scented, smilingStanley, with the yellow eyes. He stood in the centre of a dreadfulmedium, through which she saw him, ambiguous and awful; and she sickened.

  'Are you ill, Dorkie, darling?' said the apparition in accents oftenderness. 'Yes, you _are_ ill.'

  And he hastily threw open the window, close to which they were sitting,and she quickly revived in the cooling air.

  She saw his yellow eyes fixed upon her features, and his face wearing anodd expression--was it interest, or tenderness, or only scrutiny; to herthere seemed a light of insincerity and cruelty in its pallor.

  'You are better, darling; thank Heaven, you are better.'

  'Yes--yes--a great deal better; it is passing away.'

  Her colour was returning, and with a shivering sigh, she said--

  'Oh? Stanley, you must speak truth; I am your wife. Do they know anythingvery bad--are you in their power?'

  'Why, my dearest, what on earth could put such a wild fancy in yourhead?' said Lake, with a strange laugh, and, as she fancied, growingstill paler. 'Do you suppose I am a highwayman in disguise, or amurderer, like--what's his name--Eugene Aram? I must have expressedmyself very ill, if I suggested anything so tragical. I protest beforeHeaven, my darling, there is not one word or act of mine I need fear tosubmit to any court of justice or of honour on earth.'

  He took her hand, and kissed it affectionately, and still fondling itgently between his, he resumed--

  'I don't mean to say, of course, that I have always been better thanother young fellows; I've been foolish, and wild, and--and--I've donewrong things, occasionally--as all young men will; but for high crimesand misdemeanors, or for melodramatic situations, I never had theslightest taste. There's no man on earth who can tell anything of me, orput me under any sort of pressure, thank Heaven; and simply because Ihave never in the course of my life done a single act unworthy of agentleman, or in the most trifling way compromised myself. I swear it, mydarling, upon my honour and soul, and I will swear it in any terms--themost awful that can be prescribed--in order totally and for ever toremove from your mind so amazing a fancy.'

  And with a little laugh, and still holding her hand, he passed his armround her waist, and kissed her affectionately.

  'But you are perfectly right, Dorkie, in supposing that I _am_ under veryconsiderable apprehension from their machinations. Though they cannotslur our fair fame, it is quite possible they may very seriously affectour property. Mr. Larkin is in possession of all the family papers. Idon't like it, but it is too late now. The estates have been back andforward so often between the Brandons and Wylders, I always fancy theremay be a screw loose, or a frangible link somewhere, and he's deeplyinterested for Mark Wylder.'

  'You are better, darling; I think you are better,' he said, looking inher face, after a little pause.

  'Yes, dear Stanley, much better; but why should you suppose any plotagainst our title?'

  'Mark Wylder is in constant correspondence with that fellow Larkin. Iwish we were quietly rid of him, he is such an unscrupulous dog. I assureyou, I doubt very much if the deeds are safe in his possession; at allevents, he ought to choose between us and Mark Wylder. It is monstroushis being solicitor for both. The Wylders and Brandons have always beencontesting the right to these estates, and the same thing may arise againany day.'

  'But tell me, Stanley, how do you want to apply money? What particulargood can it do us in this unpleasant uncertainty?'

  'Well, Dorkie, believe me I have a sure instinct in matters of this kind.Larkin is plotting treason against us. Wylder is inciting him, and willreap the benefit of it. Larkin hesitates to strike, but that won't lastlong. In the meantime, he has made a distinct offer to buy Five Oaks. Hisdoing so places him in the same interest with us; and, although he doesnot offer its full value, still I should sleep sounder if it wereconcluded; and the fact is, I don't think we are safe until that sale_is_ concluded.'

  Dorcas looked for a moment earnestly in his face, and then down, inthought.

  'Now, Dorkie, I have told you all. Who is to advise you, if not yourhusband? Trust my sure conviction, and promise me, Dorcas, that you willnot hesitate to join me in averting, by a sacrifice we shall hardly feel,a really stupendous blow.'

  He kissed her hand, and then her lips, and he said--

>   'You _will_, Dorkie, I _know_ you will. Give me your promise.'

  'Stanley, tell me once more, are you really quite frank when you tell methat you apprehend no personal injury from these people--apart, I mean,from the possibility of Mr. Larkin's conspiring to impeach our rights infavour of Mr. Wylder?'

  'Personal injury? None in life, my darling.'

  'And there is really no secret--nothing--_tell_ your wife--nothing youfear coming to light?'

  'I swear again, nothing. _Won't_ you believe me, darling?'

  'Then, if it be so, Stanley, I think we should hesitate long beforeselling any part of the estate, upon a mere conjecture of danger. You orI may over-estimate that danger, being so nearly affected by it. We musttake advice; and first, we must consult Chelford. Remember, Stanley, howlong the estate has been preserved. Whatever may have been their crimesand follies, those who have gone before us never impaired the Brandonestate; and, without full consideration, without urgent cause, I,Stanley, will not begin.'

  'Why, it is only Five Oaks, and we shall have the money, you forget,'said Stanley.

  'Five Oaks is an estate in itself; and the idea of dismembering theBrandon inheritance seems to me like taking a plank from a ship--all willgo down when that is done.'

  'But you _can't_ dismember it; it is only a life estate.'

  'Well, perhaps so; but Chelford told me that one of the London peoplesaid he thought Five Oaks belonged to me absolutely.'

  'In that case the inheritance _is_ dismembered already.'

  'I will have no share in selling the old estate, or any part of it, tostrangers, Stanley, except in a case of necessity; and we must do nothingprecipitately; and I must insist, Stanley, on consulting Chelford beforetaking any step. He will view the question more calmly than you or I can;and we owe him that respect, Stanley, he has been so very kind to us.'

  'Chelford is the very last man whom I would think of consulting,'answered Stanley, with his malign and peevish look.

  'And why?' asked Dorcas.

  'Because he is quite sure to advise against it,' answered Stanley,sharply. 'He is one of those Quixotic fellows who get on very well infair weather, while living with a duke or duchess, but are sure to runyou into mischief when they come to the inns and highways of common life.I know perfectly, he would protest against a compromise. DischargeLarkin--fight him--and see us valiantly stript of our property by somecursed law-quibble; and think we ought to be much more comfortable so,than in this house, on the terms of a compromise with a traitor likeLarkin. But _I_ don't think so, nor any man of sense, nor anyone but ahairbrained, conceited knight-errant.'

  'I think Chelford one of the most sensible as well as honourable men Iknow; and I will take no step in selling a part of our estate to thatodious Mr. Larkin, without consulting him, and at least hearing what hethinks of it.'

  Stanley's eyes were cast down--and he was nipping the struggling hairs ofhis light moustache between his lips--but he made no answer. Onlysuddenly he looked up, and said quietly,

  'Very well. Good-bye for a little, Dorkie,' and he leaned over her andkissed her cheek, and then passed into the hall, where he took his hatand cane.

  Larcom presented him with a note, in a sealed envelope. As he took itfrom the salver he recognised Larkin's very clear and large hand. Isuspect that grave Mr. Larcom had been making his observations andconjectures thereupon.

  The captain took it with a little nod, and a peevish side-glance. Itsaid--

  'MY DEAR CAPTAIN BRANDON LAKE,--Imperative business calls me to London bythe early train to-morrow. Will you therefore favour me, if convenient,_by the bearer_, with the small note of consent, which must accompany thearticles agreeing to sell.

  'I remain, &c. &c. &c.'

  Larkin's groom was waiting for an answer.

  'Tell him I shall probably see Mr. Larkin myself,' said the captain,snappishly; and so he walked down to pretty little Gylingden.

  On the steps of the reading-room stood old Tom Ruddle, who acted asmarker in the billiard-room, treasurer, and book-keeper beside, and sweptout the premises every morning, and went to and fro at the proper hours,between that literary and sporting institution and the post-office; andwho, though seldom sober, was always well instructed in the news of thetown.

  'How do you do, old Ruddle--quite well?' asked the captain with a smile.'Who have you got in the rooms?'

  Well, Jos. Larkin was not there. Indeed he seldom showed in thosepremises, which he considered decidedly low, dropping in only now andthen, like the great county gentlemen, on sessions days, to glance at thepapers, and gossip on their own high affairs.

  But Ruddle had seen Mr. Jos. Larkin on the green, not five minutes since,and thither the gallant captain bent his steps.