Wylder's Hand Part 68

'No, Dorcas, the fault is not yours, nor mine. The fault is in circ.u.mstances. The time is coming, Dorcas, when you will know all, and, maybe, judge me mercifully. In the meantime, Dorcas, _you_ cannot like _my_ company, because you do not like me; and I do not like yours, just because, in spite of all, I do love you still; and in yours I only see the image of a lost friend. You may be restored to me soon--maybe _never_--but till then, I have lost you.'

'Well,' said Dorcas, 'it may be there is a wild kind of truth in what you say, Rachel, and--no matter--_time_, as you say, and _light_--I don't understand you, Rachel; but there is this in you that resembles me--we both hate hypocrisy, and we are both, in our own ways, proud. I'll come back, when I hear the carriage, and see you for a moment, as you won't stay, or come with me, and bid you good-bye.'

So Dorcas went her way; and alone, on the terrace, looking over the stone bal.u.s.trade--over the rich and sombre landscape, dim and vaporous in the twilight--she still saw the pale face of Rachel--paler than she liked to see it. Was she ill?--and she thought how lonely she would be if Rachel were to die--how lonely she was now. There was a sting of compunction--a yearning--and then started a few bitter and solitary tears.

In one of the great stone vases, that are ranged along the terrace, there flourished a beautiful and rare rose. I forget its name. Some of my readers will remember. It is first to bloom--first to wither. Its fragrant petals were now strewn upon the terrace underneath. One blossom only remained untarnished, and Dorcas plucked it, and with it in her fingers, she returned to the porch where Rachel remained.

'You see, I have come back a little before my time,' said Dorcas. 'I have just been looking at the plant you used to admire so much, and the leaves are shed already, and it reminded me of our friendship, Radie; but I am sure you are right; it will all bloom again, after the winter, you know, and I thought I would come back, and say _that_, and give you this relic of the bloom that is gone--the last token,' and she kissed Rachel, as she placed it in her fingers, 'a token of remembrance and of hope.'

'I will keep it, Dorkie. It was kind of you,' and their eyes met regretfully.

'And--and, I think, I do trust you, Radie,' said the heiress of Brandon; 'and I hope you will try to like me on till--till spring comes, you know.

And, I wish,' she sighed softly, 'I wish we were as we used to be. I am not very happy; and--here's the carriage.'

And it drew up close to the steps, and Rachel entered; and her little handmaid of up in the seat behind; and Dorcas and Rachel kissed their hands, and smiled, and away the carriage glided; and Dorcas, standing on the steps, looked after it very sadly. And when it disappeared, she sighed again heavily, still looking in its track; and I think she said 'Darling!'

CHAPTER LX.

RACHEL LAKE BEFORE THE ACCUSER.

Twilight was darker in Redman's Dell than anywhere else. But dark as it was, there was still light enough to enable Rachel, as she hurried across the little garden, on her return from Brandon, to see a long white face, and some dim outline of the figure to which it belonged, looking out upon her from the window of her little drawing-room.

But no, it could not be; who was there to call at so odd an hour? She must have left something--a bag, or a white basket upon the window-sash.

She was almost startled, however, as she approached the porch, to see it nod, and a hand dimly waved in token of greeting.

Tamar was in the kitchen. Could it be Stanley! But faint as the outline was she saw, she fancied that it was a taller person than he. She felt a sort of alarm, in which there was some little mixture of the superst.i.tious, and she pushed open the door, not entering the room, but staring in toward the window, where against the dim, external light, she clearly saw, without recognising it, a tall figure, greeting her with mop and moe.

'Who is that?' cried Miss Lake, a little sharply.

'It is I, Miss Lake, Mr. Josiah Larkin, of the Lodge,' said that gentleman, with what he meant to be an air of dignified firmness, and looking very like a tall constable in possession; 'I have taken the liberty of presenting myself, although, I fear, at a somewhat unseasonable hour, but in reference to a little business, which, unfortunately, will not, I think, bear to be deferred.'

'No bad news, Mr. Larkin, I hope--nothing has happened. The Wylders are all well, I hope?'

'Quite well, so far as I am aware,' answered the attorney, with a grim politeness; 'perfectly. Nothing has occurred, as yet at least, affecting the interests of that family; but something is--I will not say threatened--but I may say mooted, which, were any attempt seriously made to carry it into execution, would, I regret to say, involve very serious consequences to a party whom for, I may say, many reasons, I should regret being called upon to affect unpleasantly.'

'And pray, Mr. Larkin, can I be of any use?'

'_Every_ use, Miss Lake, and it is precisely for that reason that I have taken the liberty of waiting upon you, at what, I am well aware, is a somewhat unusual hour.'

'Perhaps, Mr. Larkin, you would be so good as to call in the morning--any hour you appoint will answer me,' said the young lady, a little stiffly.

She was still standing at the door, with her hand upon the bra.s.s handle.

'Pardon me, Miss Lake, the business to which I refer is really urgent.'

'_Very_ urgent, Sir, if it cannot wait till to-morrow morning.'

'Very true, quite true, very urgent indeed,' replied the attorney, calmly; 'I presume, Miss Lake, I may take a chair?'

'Certainly, Sir, if you insist on my listening to-night, which I should certainly decline if I had the power.'

'Thank you, Miss Lake.' And the attorney took a chair, crossing one leg over the other, and throwing his head back as he reclined in it with his long arm over the back--the 'express image,' as he fancied, of a polished gentleman, conducting a diplomatic interview with a clever and high-bred lady.

'Then it is plain, Sir, I _must_ hear you to-night,' said Miss Lake, haughtily.

'Not that, exactly, Miss Lake, but only that _I_ must _speak_ to-night--in fact, I have no choice. The subject of our conference really is, as you will find, an urgent one, and to-morrow morning, which we should each equally prefer, would be possibly too late--too late, at least, to obviate a very painful situation.'

'You will make it, I am sure, as short as you can, Sir,' said the young lady, in the same tone.

'Exactly my wish, Miss Lake,' replied Mr. Jos. Larkin.

'Bring candles, Margery.'

And so the little drawing-room was illuminated; and the bald head of the tall attorney, and the gloss on his easy, black frock-coat, and his gold watch-chain, and the long and large gloved hand, depending near the carpet, with the glove of the other in it. And Mr. Jos. Larkin rose with a negligent and lordly case, and placed a chair for Miss Lake, so that the light might fall full upon her features, in accordance with his usual diplomatic arrangement, which he fancied, complacently, no one had ever detected; he himself resuming his easy _pose_ upon his chair, with his back, as much as was practicable, presented to the candles, and the long, bony fingers of the arm which rested on the table, negligently shading his observing little eyes, and screening off the side light from his expressive features.

These arrangements, however, were disconcerted by Miss Lake's sitting down at the other side of the table, and quietly requesting Mr. Larkin to open his case.

'Why, really, it is hardly a five minutes' matter, Miss Lake. It refers to the vicar, the Rev. William Wylder, and his respectable family, and a proposition which he, as my client, mentioned to me this evening. He stated that you had offered to advance a sum of 600_l._ for the liquidation of his liabilities. It will, perhaps, conduce to clearness to dispose of this part of the matter first. May I therefore ask, at this stage, whether the Rev. William Wylder rightly conceived you, when he so stated your meaning to me?'

'Yes, certainly, I am most anxious to a.s.sist them with that little sum, which I have now an opportunity of procuring.'

'A--exactly--yes--well, Miss Lake, that is, of course, very kind of you--very kind, indeed, and creditable to your feelings; but, as Mr.

William Wylder's solicitor, and as I have already demonstrated to him, I must now inform you, that the sum of six hundred pounds would be absolutely _useless_ in his position. No party, Miss Lake, in his position, ever quite apprehends, even if he could bring himself fully to state, the aggregate amount of his liabilities. I may state, however, to you, without betraying confidence, that ten times that sum would not avail to extricate him, even temporarily, from his difficulties. He sees the thing himself now; but drowning men will grasp, we know, at straws.

However, he _does_ see the futility of this; and, thanking you most earnestly, he, through me, begs most gratefully to decline it. In fact, my dear Miss Lake--it is awful to contemplate--he has been in the hands of sharks, harpies, my dear Madam; but I'll beat about for the money, in the way of loan, if possible, and, one way or another, I am resolved, if the thing's to be done, to get him straight.'

There was here a little pause, and Mr. Larkin, finding that Miss Lake had nothing to say, simply added--

'And so, for these reasons, and with these views, my dear Miss Lake, we beg, most respectfully, and I will say gratefully, to decline the proffered advance, which, I will say, at the same time, does honour to your feelings.'

'I am sorry,' said Miss Lake, 'you have had so much trouble in explaining so simple a matter. I will call early to-morrow, and see Mr. Wylder.'

'Pardon me,' said the attorney, 'I have to address myself next to the second portion of your offer, as stated to me by Mr. W. Wylder, that which contemplates a residence in his house, and in the respectable bosom, I may say, of that, in many respects, unblemished family.'

Miss Lake stared with a look of fierce enquiry at the attorney.

'The fact is, Miss Lake, that that is an arrangement which under existing circ.u.mstances I could not think of advising. I think, on reflection, you will see, that Mr. Wylder--the Reverend William Wylder and his lady--could not for one moment seriously entertain it, and that I, who am bound to do the best I can for them, could not dream of advising it.'

'I fancy it is a matter of total indifference, Sir, what you may and what you may not advise in a matter quite beyond your province--I don't in the least understand, or desire to understand you--and thinking your manner impertinent and offensive, I beg that you will now be so good as to leave my house.'

Miss Rachel was very angry--although nothing but her bright colour and the vexed flash of her eye showed it.

'I were most unfortunate--most unfortunate indeed, Miss Lake, if my manner could in the least justify the strong and undue language in which you have been pleased to characterise it. But I do not resent--it is not my way--"beareth all things," Miss Lake, "beareth all things"--I hope I try to practise the precept; but the fact of being misunderstood shall not deter me from the discharge of a simple duty.'

'If it is part of your duty, Sir, to make yourself intelligible, may I beg that you will do it without further delay.'

'My princ.i.p.al object in calling here was to inform you, Miss Lake, that you must quite abandon the idea of residing in the vicar's house, as you proposed, unless you wish me to state explicitly to him and to Mrs.