Wylder's Hand. Sheridan Le Fanu

      'Well, now, though, really it is funny; it did not strike me before, but do you know, now, it is,' laughs out jolly Mrs. Dolly, 'isn't it. Look at it, do, Mr. Wylder—isn't it like the ace of hearts?'

      Wylder was laughing rather redly, with the upper part of his face very surly, I thought.

      'Never mind, Wylder, it's the winning card,' said Lord Chelford, laying his hand on his shoulder.

      Whereupon Lake laughed quietly, still looking on the ace of hearts with his sly eyes.

      And Wylder laughed too, more suddenly and noisily than the humour of the joke seemed quite to call for, and glanced a grim look from the corners of his eyes on Lake, but the gallant captain did not seem to perceive it; and after a few seconds more he handed it very innocently back to Mrs. Dorothy, only remarking—

      'Seriously, it is very pretty, and appropriate.'

      And Wylder, making no remark, helped himself to a cup of coffee, and then to a glass of Curaçoa, and then looked industriously at a Spanish quarto of Don Quixote, and lastly walked over to me on the hearthrug.

      'What the d—has he come down here for? It can't be for money, or balls, or play, and he has no honest business anywhere. Do you know?'

      'Lake? Oh! I really can't tell; but he'll soon tire of country life. I don't think he's much of a sportsman.'

      'Ha, isn't he? I don't know anything about him almost; but I hate him.'

      'Why should you, though? He's a very gentlemanlike fellow and your cousin.'

      'My cousin—the Devil's cousin—everyone's cousin. I don't know who's my cousin, or who isn't; nor you don't, who've been for ten years over those d—d papers; but I think he's the nastiest dog I ever met. I took a dislike to him at first sight long ago, and that never happened me but I was right.'

      Wylder looked confoundedly angry and flustered, standing with his heels on the edge of the rug, his hands in his pockets, jingling some silver there, and glancing from under his red forehead sternly and unsteadily across the room.

      'He's not a man for country quarters! he'll soon be back in town, or to Brighton,' I said.

      'If he doesn't, I will. That's all.'

      Just to get him off this unpleasant groove with a little jolt, I said—

      'By-the-bye, Wylder, you know the pictures here; who is the tall man, with the long pale face, and wild phosphoric eyes? I was always afraid of him; in a long peruke, and dark red velvet coat, facing the hall-door. I had a horrid dream about him last night.'

      'That? Oh, I know—that's Lorne Brandon. He was one of our family devils, he was. A devil in a family now and then is not such a bad thing, when there's work for him.' (All the time he was talking to me his angry little eyes were following Lake.) 'They say he killed his son, a blackguard, who was found shot, with his face in the tarn in the park. He was going to marry the gamekeeper's daughter, it was thought, and he and the old boy, who was for high blood, and all that, were at loggerheads about it. It was not proved, only thought likely, which showed what a nice character he was; but he might have done worse. I suppose Miss Partridge would have had a precious lot of babbies; and who knows where the estate would have been by this time.'

      'I believe, Charlie,' he recommenced suddenly, 'there is not such an unnatural family on record as ours; is there? Ha, ha, ha! It's well to be distinguished in any line. I forget all the other good things he did; but he ended by shooting himself through the head in his bed-room, and that was not the worst thing ever he did.'

      And Wylder laughed again, and began to whistle very low—not, I fancy, for want of thought, but as a sort of accompaniment thereto, for he suddenly said—

      'And where is he staying?'

      'Who?—Lake?'

      'Yes.'

      'I don't know; but I think he mentioned Larkins's house, didn't he? I'm not quite sure.'

      'I suppose he this I'm made of money. By Jove! if he wants to borrow any I'll surprise him, the cur; I'll talk to him; ha, ha, ha!'

      And Wylder chuckled angrily, and the small change in his pocket tinkled fiercely, as his eye glanced on the graceful captain, who was entertaining the ladies, no doubt, very agreeably in the distance.

      Chapter XI

       Table of Contents

      IN WHICH LAKE UNDER THE TREES OF BRANDON, AND I IN MY CHAMBER, SMOKE OUR NOCTURNAL CIGARS.

      Miss Lake declined the carriage to-night. Her brother was to see her home, and there was a leave-taking, and the young ladies whispered a word or two, and kissed, after the manner of their kind. To Captain Lake, Miss Brandon's adieux were as cold and haughty as her greeting.

      'Did you see that?' said Wylder in my ear, with a chuckle; and, wagging his head, he added, rather loftily for him, 'Miss Brandon, I reckon, has taken your measure, Master Stanley, as well as I. I wonder what the deuce the old dowager sees in him. Old women always like rascals.'

      And he added something still less complimentary.

      I suppose the balance of attraction and repulsion was overcome by Miss Lake, much as he disliked Stanley, for Wylder followed them out with Lord Chelford, to help the young lady into her cloak and goloshes, and I found myself near Miss Brandon for the first time that evening, and much to my surprise she was first to speak, and that rather strangely.

      'You seem to be very sensible, Mr. De Cresseron; pray tell me, frankly, what do you think of all this?'

      'I am not quite sure, Miss Brandon, that I understand your question,' I replied, enquiringly.

      'I mean of the—the family arrangements, in which, as Mr. Wylder's friend, you seem to take an interest?' she said.

      'There can hardly be a second opinion, Miss Brandon; I think it a very wise measure,' I replied, much surprised.

      'Very wise—exactly. But don't these very wise things sometimes turn out very foolishly? Do you really think your friend, Mr. Wylder, cares about me?'

      'I take that for granted: in the nature of things it can hardly be otherwise,' I replied, a good deal startled and perplexed by the curious audacity of her interrogatory.

      'It was very foolish of me to expect from Mr. Wylder's friend any other answer; you are very loyal, Mr. De Cresseron.'

      And without awaiting my reply she made some remark which I forget to Lady Chelford, who sat at a little distance; and, appearing quite absorbed in her new subject, she placed herself close beside the dowager, and continued to chat in a low tone.

      I was vexed with myself for having managed with so little skill a conversation which, opened so oddly and frankly, might have placed me on relations so nearly confidential, with that singular and beautiful girl. I ought to have rejoiced—but we don't always see what most concerns our peace. In the meantime I had formed a new idea of her. She was so unreserved, it seemed, and yet in this directness there was something almost contemptuous.

      By this time Lord Chelford and Wylder returned; and, disgusted rather with myself, I ruminated on my want of general-ship.

      In the meantime, Miss Lake, with her hand on her brother's arm, was walking swiftly under the trees of the back avenue towards that footpath which, through wild copse and broken clumps near the park, emerges upon the still darker road which passes along the wooded glen by the mills, and skirts the little paling of the recluse lady's garden.

      They had not walked far, when Lake suddenly said—

      'What do you think of all this, Radie—this particular version, I mean, of marriage, à-la-mode, they are preparing up there?' and he made a little dip of his cane towards Brandon Hall, over his shoulder. 'I really don't think Wylder cares twopence about her, or