CHAPTER LXV.
I REVISIT BRANDON HALL.
Rachel Lake was courageous and energetic; and, when once she had taken aclear view of her duty, wonderfully persistent and impracticable. Herdreadful interview with Jos. Larkin was always in her mind. The bleachedface, so meek, so cruel, of that shabby spectre, in the small, lowparlour of Redman's Farm, was always before her. There he had spoken thesentences which made the earth tremble, and showed her distinctly thecracking line beneath her feet, which would gape at his word into thefathomless chasm that was to swallow her. But, come what might, she wouldnot abandon the vicar and his little boy, and good Dolly, to the arts ofthat abominable magician.
The more she thought, the clearer her conviction. She had no one toconsult with; she knew the risk of exasperating that tall man of God, wholived at the Lodge. But, determined to brave all, she went down to seeDolly and the vicar at home.
Poor Dolly was tired; she had been sitting up all night with sick littleFairy. He was better to-day; but last night he had frightened them so,poor little man! he began to rave about eleven o'clock; and more or lesshis little mind continued wandering until near six, when he fell into asound sleep, and seemed better for it; and it was such a blessing therecertainly was neither scarlatina nor small-pox, both which enemies hadappeared on the northern frontier of Gylingden, and were picking downtheir two or three cases each in that quarter.
So Rachel first made her visit to little man, sitting up in his bed, verypale and thin, and looking at her, not with his pretty smile, but alanguid, earnest wonder, and not speaking. How quickly and strikinglysickness tells upon children. Little man's frugal store of toys, chieflythe gifts of pleasant Rachel, wild beasts, Noah and his sons, and part ofa regiment of foot soldiers, with the usual return of broken legs andmissing arms, stood peacefully mingled upon the board across his bedwhich served as a platform.
But little man was leaning back; his fingers once so busy, lay motionlesson the coverlet, and his tired eyes rested on the toys with a joyless,earnest apathy.
'Didn't play with them a minute,' said the maid.
'I'll bring him a new box. I'm going into the town; won't that bepretty?' said Rachel, parting his golden locks over the young forehead,and kissing him; and she took his little hand in hers--it was hot anddry.
'He looks better--a little better, don't you think; just a littlebetter?' whispered his mamma, looking, as all the rest were, on that wan,sad little face.
But he really looked worse.
'Well, he can't look better, you know, dear, till there's a decidedchange. What does Doctor Buddle say?'
'He saw him yesterday morning. He thinks it's all from his stomach, andhe's feverish; no meat. Indeed he won't eat anything, and you see thelight hurts his eyes.
There was only a chink of the shutter open.
'But it is always so when he is ever so little ill, my precious littleman; and I _know_ if he thought it anything the _least_ serious, DoctorBuddle would have looked in before now, he's so very kind.'
'I wish my darling could get a little sleep. He's very tired, nurse,'said Rachel.
'Yes'm, very tired'm; would he like his precious head lower a bit? No;very well, darling, we'll leave it so.'
'Dolly, darling, you and nurse must be so tired sitting up. I have alittle wine at Redman's Farm. I got it, you remember, more than a yearago, when Stanley said he was coming to pay me a visit. I never take any,and a little would be so good for you and poor nurse. I'll send some toyou.'
So coming down stairs Rachel said, 'Is the vicar at home?' Yes, he was inthe study, and there they found him brushing his seedy hat, and makingready for his country calls in the neighbourhood of the town. The hourwas dull without little Fairy; but he would soon be up and out again, andhe would steal up now and see him. He could not go out without his littlefarewell at the bed-side, and he would bring him in some pretty flowers.
'You've seen little Fairy!' asked the good vicar, with a very anxioussmile, 'and you think him better, dear Miss Lake, don't you?'
'Why, I can't say that, because you know, so soon as he's better, he'llbe quite well; they make their recoveries all in a moment.'
'But he does not look worse?' said the vicar, lifting his eyes eagerlyfrom his boot, which he was buttoning on the chair.
'Well, he _does_ look more _tired_, but that must be till his recoverybegins, which will be, please Heaven, immediately.'
'Oh, yes, my little man has had two or three attacks _much_ more seriousthan this, and always shook them off so easily, I was reminding Dolly,always, and good Doctor Buddle assures us it is none of those horridcomplaints.'
And so they talked over the case of the little man, who with Noah and hissons, and the battered soldiers and animals before him, was fighting,though they only dimly knew it, silently in his little bed, the greatbattle of life or death.
'Mr. Larkin came to me the evening before last,' said Rachel, '_and toldme_ that the little sum I mentioned--now don't say a word till you haveheard me--was not sufficient; so I want to tell you what I have quiteresolved on. I have been long intending some time or other to change myplace of residence, perhaps I shall go to Switzerland, and I have made upmy mind to sell my rent-charge on the Dulchester estate. It will produce,Mr. Young says, a very large sum, and I wish to lend it to you, either_all_ or as much as will make you _quite_ comfortable--you must notrefuse. I had intended leaving it to my dear little man up stairs; andyou must promise me solemnly that you will not listen to the advice ofthat bad, cruel man, Mr. Larkin.'
'My dear Miss Lake, you misunderstood him. But what can I say--how can Ithank you?' said the vicar, clasping her hand.
'A wicked and merciless man, I say,' repeated Miss Lake. 'From myobservation of him, I am certain of two things--I am sure that he hassome reason for thinking that your brother, Mark Wylder, is dead; andsecondly, that he is himself deeply interested in the purchase of yourreversion. I feel a little ill; Dolly, open the window.'
There was a silence for a little while, and Rachel resumed:--
'Now, William Wylder, I am convinced, that you and your wife (and shekissed Dolly), and your dear little boy, are marked out for plunder--theobjects of a conspiracy; and I'll lose my life, but I'll prevent it.'
'Now, maybe, Willie, upon my word, perhaps, she's quite right; for, youknow, if poor Mark is dead, then would not _he_ have the estate _now_; isnot that it, Miss Lake, and--and, you know, that would be dreadful, tosell it all for next to nothing, is not that what you mean, MissLake--Rachel dear, I mean.'
'Yes, Dolly, stripping yourselves of a splendid inheritance, and robbingyour poor little boy. I protest, in the name of Heaven, against it, andyou have no excuse now, William, with my offer before you; and, Dolly, itwill be inexcusable _wickedness_ in you, if you allow it.'
'Now, Willie dear, do you hear that--do you hear what she says?'
'But, Dolly darling--dear Miss Lake, there is no reason whatever tosuppose that poor Mark is dead,' said the vicar, very pale.
'I tell you again, I am convinced the attorney _believes_ it. He did notsay so, indeed; but, cunning as he is, I think I've quite seen throughhis plot; and even in what he said to me, there was something that halfbetrayed him every moment. And, Dolly, if you allow this sale, youdeserve the ruin you are inviting, and the remorse that will follow youto your grave.'
'Do you hear that, Willie?' said Dolly, with her hand on his arm.
'But, dear, it is too late--I _have_ signed this--this instrument--and itis too late. I hope--God help me--I have not done wrong. Indeed, whateverhappens, dear Miss Lake, may Heaven for ever bless you. But respectinggood Mr. Larkin, you are, indeed, in error; I am sure you have quitemisunderstood him. You don't know how kind--how _disinterestedly_ good hehas been; and _now_, my dear Miss Lake, it is too late--_quite_ toolate.'
'No; it is _not_ too late. Such wickedness as that cannot be lawful--Iwon't believe the law allows it,' cried Rachel Lake. 'It is all afraud--even if you have signed--all a fraud. You must pro
cure able adviceat once. Your enemy is that dreadful Mr. Larkin. Write to some goodattorney in London. I'll pay everything.'
'But, dear Miss Lake, I can't,' said the vicar, dejectedly; 'I am boundin honour and conscience not to disturb it--I have written to Messrs.Burlington and Smith to that effect. I assure you, dear Miss Lake, wehave not acted inconsiderately--nothing has been done without careful anddeep consideration.'
'You _must_ employ an able attorney immediately. You have been duped.Your little boy must not be ruined.'
'But--but I do assure you, I have so pledged myself by the letter I havementioned, that I _could_ not--no, it is _quite impossible_,' he added,as he recollected the strong and pointed terms in which he had pledgedhis honour and conscience to the London firm, to guarantee them againstany such disturbance as Miss Lake was urging him to attempt.
'I am going into the town, Dolly, and so are you,' said Rachel, after alittle pause. 'Let us go together.'
And to this Dolly readily assented; and the vicar, evidently muchtroubled in mind, having run up to the nursery to see his little man, thetwo ladies set out together. Rachel saw that she had made an impressionupon Dolly, and was resolved to carry her point. So, in earnest terms,again she conjured her, at least, to lay the whole matter before somefriend on whom she could rely; and Dolly, alarmed and eager, quite agreedwith Rachel, that the sale must be stopped, and she would do whateverdear Rachel bid her.
'But do you think Mr. Larkin really supposes that poor Mark is dead?'
'I do, dear--I suspect he knows it.'
'And what makes you think that, Rachel, darling?'
'I can't define--I've no proofs to give you. One knows things, sometimes.I perceived it--and I think I can't be mistaken; and now I've said all,and pray ask me no more upon that point.'
Rachel spoke with a hurried and fierce impatience, that rather startledher companion.
It is wonderful that she showed her state of mind so little. There was,indeed, something feverish, and at times even fierce, in her looks andwords. But few would have guessed her agony, as she pleaded with thevicar and his wife; or the awful sense of impending consequences thatclosed over her like the shadow of night, the moment the excitement ofher pleading was over--'Rachel, are you mad?--Fly, fly, fly!' was alwayssounding in her ears. The little street of Gylingden, through which theywere passing, looked strange and dream-like. And as she listened to Mrs.Crinkle's babble over the counter, and chose his toys for poor little'Fairy,' she felt like one trifling on the way to execution.
But her warnings and entreaties, I have said, were not quite thrown away;for, although the vicar was inflexible, she had prevailed with his wife,who, at parting, again promised Rachel, that if she could do it, the saleshould be stopped.
When I returned to Brandon, a few mornings later, Captain Lake receivedme joyfully at his solitary breakfast. He was in an intenseelectioneering excitement. The evening papers for the day before lay onthe breakfast table.
'A move of some sort suspected--the opposition prints all hinting attricks and ambuscades. They are whipping their men up awfully. OldWattles, not half-recovered, went by the early train yesterday, Wealdontells me. It will probably kill him. Stower went up the day before. Leesays he saw him at Charteris. He never speaks--only a vote--and a fellowthat never appears till the minute.'
'Brittle, the member for Stoney-Muckford, was in the next carriage to meyesterday; and he's a slow coach, too,' I threw in. 'It does look as ifthe division was nearer than they pretend.'
'Just so. I heard from Gybes last evening--what a hand that fellowwrites--only a dozen words--"Look out for squalls," and "keep your men inhand." I've sent for Wealdon. I wish the morning papers were come. I'm aquarter past eleven--what are you? The post's in at Dollington fiftyminutes before we get our letters here. D--d nonsense--it's all thatheavy 'bus of Driver's--I'll change that. They leave London at five, andget to Dollington at half-past ten, and Driver never has them in soonerthan twenty minutes past eleven! D--d humbug! I'd undertake to take adog-cart over the ground in twenty minutes.'
'Is Larkin here?' I asked.
'Oh, no--run up to town. I'm so glad he's away--the clumsiest dog inEngland--nothing clever--no invention--only a bully--the people hate him.Wealdon's my man. I wish he'd give up that town-clerkship--it can't beworth much, and it's in his way--I'd make it up to him somehow. Will youjust look at that--it's the 'Globe'--only six lines, and tell me what_you_ make of it?'
'It does look like it, certainly.'
'Wealdon and I have jotted down a few names here,' said Lake, sliding alist of names before me; 'you know some of them, I think--rather a strongcommittee; don't you think so? Those fellows with the red cross beforehave promised.'
'Yes; it's very strong--capital!' I said, crunching my toast. 'Is itthought the writs will follow the dissolution unusually quickly?'
'They must, unless they want a very late session. But it is quitepossible the government may win--a week ago they reckoned upon eleven.'
And as we were talking the post arrived.
'Here they are!' cried Lake, and grasping the first morning paper hecould seize on, he tore it open with a greater display of energy than Ihad seen that languid gentleman exhibit on any former occasion.
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