Wylder's Hand. Sheridan Le Fanu

Years, I dare say, and a hard life and profligacy, and command, had not made him less selfish or more humane, or abated his craft and resolution.

      If one could only see it, the manoeuvring and the ultimate collision of two such generals as he and Lake would be worth observing.

      I dare say my last night's adventure tended to make me more nervous and prone to evil anticipation. And although my quarters had been changed to the lower storey, I grew uncomfortable as it waxed late, and half regretted that I had not migrated to the 'Brandon Arms.'

      Uncle Lorne, however, made me no visit that night. Once or twice I fancied something, and started up in my bed. It was fancy, merely. What state had I really been in, when I saw that long-chinned apparition of the pale portrait? Many a wiser man than I had been mystified by dyspepsia and melancholic vapours.

      Chapter XV

       Table of Contents

      DORCAS SHOWS HER JEWELS TO MISS LAKE.

      Stanley Lake and his sister dined next day at Brandon. Under the cold shadow of Lady Chelford, the proprieties flourished, and generally very little else. Awful she was, and prompt to lecture young people before their peers, and spoke her mind with fearful directness and precision. But sometimes she would talk, and treat her hearers to her recollections, and recount anecdotes with a sort of grim cleverness, not wholly unamusing.

      She did not like Wylder, I thought, although she had been the inventor and constructor of the family alliance of which he was the hero. I did not venture to cultivate her; and Miss Brandon had been, from the first, specially cold and repellent to Captain Lake. There was nothing very genial or promising, therefore, in the relations of our little party, and I did not expect a very agreeable evening.

      Notwithstanding all this, however, our dinner was, on the whole, much pleasanter than I anticipated. Stanley Lake could be very amusing; but I doubt if our talk would quite stand the test of print. I often thought if one of those artists who photograph language and thought—the quiet, clever 'reporters,' to whom England is obliged for so much of her daily entertainment, of her social knowledge, and her political safety, were, pencil in hand, to ensconce himself behind the arras, and present us, at the close of the agreeable banquet, with a literal transcript of the feast of reason, which we give and take with so much complacency—whether it would quite satisfy us upon reconsideration.

      When I entered the drawing-room after dinner, Lord Chelford was plainly arguing a point with the young ladies, and by the time I drew near, it was Miss Lake's turn to speak.

      'Flattering of mankind, I am sure, I have no talent for; and without flattering and wheedling you'll never have conjugal obedience. Don't you remember Robin Hood? how—

      'The mother of Robin said to her husband,My honey, my love, and my dear.'

      And all this for leave to ride with her son to see her own brother at Gamwell.'

      'I remember,' said Dorcas, with a smile. 'I wonder what has become of that old book, with its odd little woodcuts.

      'And he said, I grant thee thy boon, gentle Joan!Take one of my horses straightway.'

      'Well, though the book is lost, we retain the moral, you see,' said Rachel with a little laugh; 'and it has always seemed to me that if it had not been necessary to say, "my honey, my love, and my dear," that good soul would not have said it, and you may be pretty sure that if she had not, and with the suitable by-play too, she might not have ridden to Gamwell that day.'

      'And you don't think you could have persuaded yourself to repeat that little charm, which obtained her boon and one of his horses straightway?' said Lord Chelford.

      'Well, I don't know what a great temptation and a contumacious husband might bring one to; but I'm afraid I'm a stubborn creature, and have not the feminine gift of flattery. If, indeed, he felt his inferiority and owned his dependence, I think I might, perhaps, have called him "my honey, my love, and my dear," and encouraged and comforted him; but to buy my personal liberty, and the right to visit my brother at Gamwell—never!'

      And yet she looked, Lord Chelford thought, very goodhumoured and pleasant, and he fancied a smile from her might do more with some men than all gentle Joan's honeyed vocabulary.

      'I own,' said Lord Chelford, laughing, 'that, from prejudice, I suppose, I am in favour of the apostolic method, and stand up for the divine right of my sex; but then, don't you see, it is your own fault, if you make it a question of right, when you may make it altogether one of fascination?'

      'Who, pray, is disputing the husband's right to rule?' demanded old Lady Chelford unexpectedly.

      'I am very timidly defending it against very serious odds,' answered her son.

      'Tut, tut! my dears, what's all this; you must obey your husbands,' cried the dowager, who put down nonsense with a high hand, and had ruled her lord with a rod of iron.

      'That's no tradition of the Brandons,' said Miss Dorcas, quietly.

      'The Brandons—pooh! my dear—it is time the Brandons should grow like other people. Hitherto, the Brandon men have all, without exception, been the wickedest in all England, and the women the handsomest and the most self-willed. Of course the men could not be obeyed in all things, nor the women disobeyed. I'm a Brandon myself, Dorcas, so I've a right to speak. But the words are precise—honour and obey—and obey you must; though, of course you may argue a point, if need be, and let your husband hear reason.'

      And, having ruled the point, old Lady Chelford leaned back and resumed her doze.

      There was no longer anything playful in Dorcas's look. On the contrary, something fierce and lurid, which I thought wonderfully becoming; and after a little she said—

      'I promised, Rachel, to show you my jewels. Come now—will you?—and see them.'

      And she placed Rachel's hand on her arm, and the two young ladies departed.

      'Are you well, dear?' asked Rachel when they reached her room.

      Dorcas was very pale, and her gaze was stern, and something undefinably wild in her quietude.

      'What day of the month is this?' said Dorcas.

      'The eighth—is not it?—yes, the eighth,' answered Rachel.

      'And our marriage is fixed for the twenty-second—just a fortnight hence. I am going to tell you, Rachel, what I have resolved on.'

      'How really beautiful these diamonds are!—quite superb.'

      'Yes,' said Dorcas, opening the jewel-cases, which she had taken from her cabinet, one after the other.

      'And these pearls! how very magnificent! I had no idea Mark Wylder's taste was so exquisite.'

      'Yes, very magnificent, I suppose.'

      'How charming—quite regal—you will look, Dorcas!'

      Dorcas smiled strangely, and her bosom heaved a little, Rachel thought. Was it elation, or was there not something wildly bitter gleaming in that smile?

      'I must look a little longer at these diamonds.'

      'As long, dear, as you please. You are not likely, Rachel, to see them again.'

      From the blue flash of the brilliants Rachel in honest amazement raised her eyes to her cousin's face. The same pale smile was there; the look was oracular and painful. Had she overheard a part of that unworthy talk of Wylder's at the dinner-table, the day before, and mistaken Rachel's share in the dialogue?

      And Dorcas said—

      'You have heard of the music on the waters that lures mariners to destruction. The pilot leaves the rudder, and leans over the prow, and listens. They steer no more, but drive before the wind; and what care they for wreck or drowning?'

      I suppose it was the same smile; but in Rachel s