IN WHICH CAPTAIN LAKE TAKES HIS HAT AND STICK.
So the young people sitting in the little drawing-room of Redman's farm
pursued their dialogue; Rachel Lake had spoken last, and it was the
captain's turn to speak next.
'Do you remember Miss Beauchamp, Radie?' he asked rather suddenly, after
a very long pause.
'Miss Beauchamp? Oh! to be sure; you mean little Caroline; yes, she must
be quite grown up by this time--five years--she promised to be pretty.
What of her?'
Rachel, very flushed and agitated still, was now trying to speak as
usual.
'She _is_ good-looking--a little coarse some people think,' resumed the
young man; 'but handsome; black eyes--black hair--rather on a large
scale, but certainly handsome. A style I admire rather, though it is not
very refined, nor at all classic. But I like her, and I wish you'd advise
me.' He was talking, after his wont, to the carpet.
'Oh?' she exclaimed, with a gentle sort of derision.
'You mean,' he said, looking up for a moment, with a sudden stare, 'she
has got money. Of course she has; I could not afford to admire her if she
had not; but I see you are not just now in a mood to trouble yourself
about my nonsense--we can talk about it to-morrow; and tell me now, how
do you get on with the Brandon people?'
Rachel was curious, and would, if she could, have recalled that sarcastic
'oh' which had postponed the story; but she was also a little angry, and
with anger there was pride, which would not stoop to ask for the
revelation which he chose to defer; so she said, 'Dorcas and I are very
good friends; but I don't know very well what to make of her. Only I
don't think she's quite so dull and apathetic as I at first supposed; but
still I'm puzzled. She is either absolutely uninteresting, or very
interesting indeed, and I can't say which.'
'Does she like you?' he asked.
'I really don't know. She tolerates me, like everything else; and I don't
flatter her; and we see a good deal of one another upon those terms, and
I have no complaint to make of her. She has some aversions, but no
quarrels; and has a sort of laziness--mental, bodily, and moral--that is
sublime, but provoking; and sometimes I admire her, and sometimes I
despise her; and I do not yet know which feeling is the juster.'
'Surely she is woman enough to be fussed a little about her marriage?'
'Oh, dear, no! she takes the whole affair with a queenlike and
supernatural indifference. She is either a fool or a very great
philosopher, and there is something grand in the serene obscurity that
envelopes her,' and Rachel laughed a very little.
'I must, I suppose, pay my respects; but to-morrow will be time enough.
What pretty little tea-cups, Radie--quite charming--old cock china, isn't
it? These were Aunt Jemima's, I think.'
'Yes; they used to stand on the little marble table between the windows.'
Old Tamar had glided in while they here talking, and placed the little
tea equipage on the table unnoticed, and the captain was sipping his cup
of tea, and inspecting the pattern, while his sister amused him.
'This place, I suppose, is confoundedly slow, is not it? Do they
entertain the neighbours ever at Brandon?'
'Sometimes, when old Lady Chelford and her son are staying there.'
'But the neighbours can't entertain them, I fancy, or you. What a dreary
thing a dinner party made up of such people must be--like "Aesop's
Fables," where the cows and sheep converse.'
'And sometimes a wolf or a fox,' she said.
'Well, Radie, I know you mean me; but as you wish it, I'll carry my fangs
elsewhere;--and what has become of Will Wylder?'
'Oh! he's in the Church!'
'Quite right--the only thing he was fit for;' and Captain Lake laughed
like a man who enjoys a joke slily. 'And where is poor Billy quartered?'
'Not quite half a mile away; he has got the vicarage of Naunton Friars.'
'Oh, then, Will is not quite such a fool as we took him for.'
'It is worth just £180 a year! but he's very far from a fool.'
'Yes, of course, he knows Greek poets and Latin fathers, and all the rest
of it. I don't mean he ever was plucked. I dare say he's the kind of
fellow _you'd_ like very well, Radie.' And his sly eyes had a twinkle in
them which seemed to say, 'Perhaps I've divined your secret.'
'And so I do, and I like his wife, too, _very_ much.'
'His wife! So William has married on £180 a year;' and the captain
laughed quietly but very pleasantly again.
'On a very little more, at all events; and I think they are about the
happiest, and I'm sure they are the best people in this part of the
world.'
'Well, Radie, I'll see you to-morrow again. You preserve your good looks
wonderfully. I wonder you haven't become an old woman here.'
And he kissed her, and went his way, with a slight wave of his hand, and
his odd smile, as he closed the little garden gate after him.
He turned to his left, walking down towards the town, and the innocent
green trees hid him quickly, and the gush and tinkle of the clear brook
rose faint and pleasantly through the leaves, from the depths of the
glen, and refreshed her ear after his unpleasant talk.
She was flushed, and felt oddly; a little stunned and strange, although
she had talked lightly and easily enough.
'I forgot to ask him where he is staying: the Brandon Arms, I suppose. I
don't at all like his coming down here after Mark Wylder; what _can_ he
mean? He certainly never would have taken the trouble for _me_. What
_can_ he want of Mark Wylder? I think _he_ knew old Mr. Beauchamp. He may
be a trustee, but that's not likely; Mark Wylder was not the person for
any such office. I hope Stanley does not intend trying to extract money
from him; anything rather than that degradation--than that _villainy_.
Stanley was always impracticable, perverse, deceitful, and so foolish
with all his cunning and suspicion--so _very_ foolish. Poor Stanley. He's
so unscrupulous; I don't know what to think. He said he could force Mark
Wylder to leave the country. It must be some bad secret. If he tries and
fails, I suppose he will be ruined. I don't know what to think; I never
was so uneasy. He will blast himself, and disgrace all connected with
him; and it is quite useless speaking to him.'
Perhaps if Rachel Lake had been in Belgravia, leading a town life, the
matter would have taken no such dark colouring and portentous
proportions. But living in a small old house, in a dark glen, with no
companion, and little to occupy her, it was different.
She looked down the silent way he had so lately taken, and repeated,
rather bitterly, 'My only brother! my only brother! my only brother!'
That young lady was not quite a pauper, though she may have thought so.
Comparatively, indeed, she was; but not, I venture to think, absolutely.
She had just that symmetrical three hundred pounds a year, which the
famous Dean of St. Patrick's tells us he so 'often wished that he had
clear.' She had had some money in the Funds besides, still more
insignificant but this her Brother Stanley had borrowed and begged
piecemeal, and the Consols were no more. But though something of a nun in
her way of life, there was no germ of the old maid in her, and money was
not often in her thoughts. It was not a bad _dot_; and her Brother
Stanley had about twice as much, and therefore was much better off than
many a younger son of a duke. But these young people, after the manner of
men were spited with fortune; and indeed they had some cause. Old General
Lake had once had more than ten thousand pounds a year, and lived, until
the crash came, in the style of a vicious old prince. It was a great
break up, and a worse fall for Rachel than for her brother, when the
plate, coaches, pictures, and all the valuable effects' of old Tiberius
went to the hammer, and he himself vanished from his clubs and other
haunts, and lived only--a thin intermittent rumour--surmised to be in
gaol, or in Guernsey, and quite forgotten soon, and a little later
actually dead and buried.