CHAPTER LXX.
THE MEETING IN THE LONG POND ALLEY.
I suppose there were few waking heads at this hour in all the wide parishof Gylingden, though many a usually idle one was now busy enough aboutthe great political struggle which was to muster its native forces, bothin borough and county, and agitate these rural regions with the roar andcommotion of civil strife.
But generals must sleep like other men; and even Tom Wealdon was snoringin the fairy land of dreams.
The night was very still--a sharp night, with a thin moon, like ascimitar, hanging bright in the sky, and a myriad of intense starsblinking in the heavens, above the steep roofs and spiral chimneys ofBrandon Hall, and the ancient trees that surrounded it.
It was late in the night, as we know. The family, according to theircustom, had sought their slumbers early; and the great old house wasperfectly still.
One pair, at least, of eyes, however, were wide open; one head busy; andone person still in his daily costume. This was Mr. Larcom--the grave_major domo_, the bland and attached butler. He was not busy about hisplate, nor balancing the cellar book, nor even perusing his Bible.
He was seated in that small room or closet which he had, years ago,appropriated as his private apartment. It is opposite the housekeeper'sroom--a sequestered, philosophic retreat. He dressed in it, read hisnewspaper there, and there saw his select acquaintance. His wardrobestood there. The iron safe in which he kept his keys, filled one of itsnooks. He had his two or three shelves of books in the recess; not thathe disturbed them much, but they were a grave and gentlemanlike property,and he liked them for their binding, and the impression they produced onhis visitors. There was a meditative fragrance of cigars about him, andtwo or three Havannah stumps under the grate.
The fact is, he was engaged over a letter, the writing of which,considering how accomplished a gentleman he was, he had found ratherlaborious and tedious. The penmanship was, I am afraid, clumsy, and thespelling here and there, irregular. It was finished however, and he wasnow reading it over with care.
It was thus expressed:--
'RESPECTET SIR,--In accordens with your disier, i av took my pen to say afue words. There has cum a leter for a sertun persen this morning, with aLundun posmark, and i do not now hand nor sele, but bad writting, which ihave not seen wot contanes, but I may, for as you told me offen, you areanceus for welfare of our famly, as i now to be no more than trewth, so Iam anceus to ascest you Sir, wich my conseynce is satesfid, but leter astrubeled a sertun persen oufull, hoo i new was engry, and look oufull putabout, wich do not offen apen, and you may sewer there is sumthing inwind, he is alday so oufull peefish, you will not thing worse of mespeeken plane as yo disier, there beeing a deel to regret for frends ofthe old famly i feer in a sertun resent marrege, if I shud lern be chancecontense of letter i will sewer rite you.--i Remane your humbel servant,
'JOHN LARCOM.'
Just as grave Mr. Larcom had ended the perusal of this bulletin, he hearda light step on the stair, at the end of the passage, which made hismanly heart jump unpleasantly within his fat ribs. He thrust the unfoldedletter roughly into the very depths of his breeches pocket, and blew outboth candles; and then listened, as still as a mouse.
What frightened him was the certainty that the step, which he well knew,was Stanley Lake's. And Stanley being a wideawake and violent person, andhis measures sharp and reckless, Mr. Larcom cherished a nervous respectfor him.
He listened; the captain's step came lightly to the foot of the stairs,and paused. Mr. Larcom prepared to be fast asleep in the chair, in theevent of the captain's making a sudden advance, and entering his sanctum.But this movement was not executed.
There was a small door at the foot of the stairs. It shut with a springlock, of which Captain Lake had a latch-key. Mr. Larcom accidentally hadanother--a cylindrical bit of steel, with a hinge in the end of it, and afew queer wards.
Now, of this little door he heard the two iron bolts stealthily drawn,and then the handle of the spring lock turned, and the door cautiouslyopened, and as gently closed.
Mr. Larcom's fears now naturally subsided, and curiosity as naturallysupervened. He drew near his window; and it was well he had extinguishedhis lights, for as he did so, Captain Lake's light figure, in a graypaletot and cloth cap, glided by like a spirit in the faint moonlight.
This phenomenon excited the profoundest interest in the correspondingfriend of the family, who, fumbling his letter between his finger andthumb in his breeches' pocket, standing on tip-toe, with mouth agape, andhis head against the shutter, followed the receding figure with a greedystare.
Mr. Larcom had no theory whatsoever to account for this procedure on thepart of his master. It must be something very extraordinary, and wellworth investigating--of course, for the benefit of the family--whichcould have evoked the apparition which had just crossed his window. Withhis eyes close to the window pane, he saw his master glide swiftly alongthe short terrace which covers this side of the house, and disappear downthe steps, like a spectre sinking into the earth.
It is a meeting, thought Mr. Larcom, taking courage, for he already feltsomething of the confidence and superiority of possessing a secret; andas quickly as might be, the trustworthy man, with his latch-key in hispocket, softly opened the portal through which the object of his anxietyhad just emerged, closed the door behind him, and stood listeningintently in the recess of the entrance, where he heard the now morecareless step of the captain, treading, as he thought, the broadyew-walk, which turns at a right angle at the foot of the terrace step.The black yew hedge was a perfect screen.
Here was obviously resented a chance of obtaining the command of a secretof greater or less importance. It was a considerable stake to play for,and well worth a trifling risk.
He did not hesitate to follow--but with the soft tread of a politebutler, doing his offices over the thick carpet of a drawing-room--and itwas in his mind--'Suppose he does discover me, what then? _I_'m as muchsurprised as he! Thomas Brewen, the footman, who is under notice toleave, has twice, to the captain's knowledge, played me the same trick,and stole out through the gunroom window at night, and denied itafterwards; so I sat up to detect him, and hearing the door open, and astep, I pursued, and find I've made a mistake; and beg pardon with properhumility--supposing the master is on the same errand--what can he say? Itwill bring me a present, and a hint to say nothing of my having seen himin the yew-walk at this hour.'
Of course he did not run through all this rigmarole in detail; but thesituation, the excuse, and the result, were present to his mind, andfilled him with a comfortable assurance.
Therefore, with decision and caution, he followed Captain Lake's march,and reaching the yew-walk, he saw the slim figure in the cap and paletotturn the corner, and enter the broad walk between the two wall-like beechhedges, which led direct to the first artificial pond--a long, narrowparallelogram, round which the broad walk passed in two straight lines,fenced with the towering beech hedges, shorn as smooth as the walls of anunnery.
When the butler reached the point at which Captain Lake had turned, hefound himself all at once within fifty steps of that eccentric gentleman,who was talking, but in so low a tone, that not even the sound of thevoices reached him, with a rather short, broad-shouldered person,buttoned up in a surtout, and wearing a queer, Germanesque, felt hat,battered and crushed a good deal.
Mr. Larcom held his breath. He was profoundly interested. After a while,with an oath, he exclaimed--
'That's _him!_'
Then, after another pause, he gasped another oath:--
'It _is_ him!'
The square-built man in the surtout had a great pair of black whiskers;and as he stood opposite Lake, conversing, with, now and again, anearnest gesture, he showed a profile which Mr. Larcom knew very well; andnow they turned and walked slowly side by side along the broad walk bythat perpendicular wall of crisp brown leaves, he recognised also acertain hitch in his shoulder, which made him swear and asseverate again.
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br /> He would have given something to hear what was passing. He thoughtuneasily whether there might not be a side-path or orifice anywherethrough which he might creep so as to get to the other side of the hedgeand listen. But there was no way, and he must rest content with suchreport as his eyes might furnish.
'They're not quarrelling no ways,' murmured he.
And, indeed, they walked together, stopping now and again, as it seemed,very amicably. Captain Lake seemed to have most to say.
'He's awful cowed, he is; I never did think to see Mr. Wylder so affeardof Lake; he _is_ affeard; yes, he is--_that_ he is.
And indeed there was an indescribable air of subservience in thedemeanour of the square-built gentleman very different from what MarkWylder once showed.
He saw the captain take from the pocket of his paletot a square box orpacket, it might be jewels or only papers, and hand them to hiscompanion, who popped them into his left-hand surtout pocket, and kepthis hand there as if the freightage were specially valuable.
Then they talked earnestly a little longer, standing together by thepond; and then, side-by-side, they paced down the broad walk by its edge.It was a long walk. Honest Larcom would have followed if there had beenany sort of cover to hide his advance; but there being nothing of thekind he was fain to abide at his corner. Thence he beheld them come atlast slowly to a stand-still, talk evidently a little more, and finallythey shook hands--an indefinable something still of superiority in Lake'sair--and parted.
The captain was now all at once walking at a swift pace, alone, towardsLarcom's post of observation, and his secret confederate nearly asrapidly in an opposite direction. It would not do for the butler to betaken or even seen by Lake, nor yet to be left at the outside of the doorand barred out. So the captain had hardly commenced his homeward walk,when Larcom, though no great runner, threw himself into an agitatedamble, and reached and entered the little door just in time to escapeobservation. He had not been two minutes in his apartment again when heonce more beheld the figure of his master cross the window, and heard thesmall door softly opened and closed, and the bolts slowly and cautiouslydrawn again into their places. Then there was a pause. Lake was listeningto ascertain whether anyone was stirring, and being satisfied,re-ascended the stairs, leaving the stout and courteous butler amplematter for romantic speculation.
It was now the butler's turn to listen, which he did at the half-openeddoor of his room. When he was quite assured that all was quiet, he shutand bolted his door, closed the window-shutters, and relighted his pairof wax candles.
Mr. Larcom was a good deal excited. He had seen strange things thatnight. He was a good deal blown and heated by his run, and a little wildand scared at the closeness of the captain's unconscious pursuit. Hishead beside was full of amazing conjectures. After a while he took hiscrumpled letter from his pocket, unfolded and smoothed it, and wrote upona blank half-page--
'RESPECTED SIR,--Since the above i ave a much to tel mos surprisen, thegentleman you wer anceous of tiding mister M. W. is cum privet, and himand master met tonite nere 2 in morning, in the long pond allee, so isnear home then we suposed, no more at present Sir from your
'humbel servent JOHN
'LARCOM.
'i shall go to dolington day arter to-morrow by eleven o'clock trane ifyou ere gong, Sir.'
When the attorney returned, between eleven and twelve o'clock nextmorning, this letter awaited him. It did not, of course, surprise him,but it conclusively corroborated all his inferences.
Here had been Mark Wylder. He had stopped at Dollington, as the attorneysuspected he would, and he had kept tryst, in the Brandon grounds, withsly Captain Lake, whose relations with him it became now more difficultthan ever clearly to comprehend.
Wylder was plainly under no physical coercion. He had come and goneunattended. For one reason or other he was, at least, as stronglyinterested as Lake in maintaining secrecy.
That Mark Wylder was living was the grand fact with which he had justthen to do. How near he had been to purchasing the vicar's reversion! Theengrossed deeds lay in the black box there. And yet it might be all trueabout Mark's secret marriage. At that moment there might be a wholerosary of sons, small and great, to intercept the inheritance; and theReverend William Wylder might have no more chance of the estates than hehad of the crown.
What a deliverance for the good attorney. His money was quite safe. Theexcellent man's religion was, we know, a little Jewish, and rested upontemporal rewards and comforts. He thought, I am sure, that a competentstaff of angels were placed specially in charge of the interests of Jos.Larkin, Esq., who attended so many services and sermons on Sundays, andled a life of such ascetic propriety. He felt quite grateful to them, inhis priggish way--their management in this matter had been so eminentlysatisfactory. He regretted that he had not an opportunity of telling themso personally. I don't say that he would have expressed it in theseliteral terms; but it was fixed in his mind that the carriage of hisbusiness was supernaturally arranged. Perhaps he was right, and he was atonce elated and purified, and his looks and manner that afternoon weremore than usually meek and celestial.
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