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 eyes, as pictures will,
it changed its character with her own change of thought, and now it
seemed the pale rapt smile of one who hears music far off, or sees a
vision.
'Rachel, dear, I sometimes think there is an evil genius attendant on our
family,' continued Dorcas in the same subdued tone, which, in its very
sweetness, had so sinister a sound in Rachel's ear. 'From mother to
child, from child to grandchild, the same influence continues; and, one
after another, wrecks the daughters of our family--a wayward family, and
full of misery. Here I stand, forewarned, with my eyes open, determinedly
following in the funereal footsteps of those who have gone their way
before me. These jewels all go back to Mr. Wylder. He never can be
anything to me. I was, I thought, to build up our house. I am going, I
think, to lay it in the dust. With the spirit of the insane, I feel the
spirit of a prophetess, too, and I see the sorrow that awaits me. You
will see.'
'Dorcas, darling, you are certainly ill. What is the matter?'
'No, dear Rachel, not ill, only maybe agitated a little. You must not
touch the bell--listen to me; but first promise, so help you Heaven, you
will keep my secret.'
'I do promise, indeed Dorcas, I swear I'll not repeat one word you tell
me.'
'It has been a vain struggle. I know he's a bad man, a worthless
man--selfish, cruel, maybe. Love is not blind with me, but quite insane.
He does not know, nor you, nor anyone; and now, Rachel, I tell you what
was unknown to all but myself and Heaven--looking neither for counsel,
nor for pity, nor for sympathy, but because I must, and you have sworn to
keep my secret. I love your brother. Rachel, you must try to like me.'
She threw her arms round her cousin's neck, and Rachel felt in her
embrace the vibration of an agony.
She was herself so astonished that for a good while she could hardly
collect her thoughts or believe her senses. Was it credible? Stanley!
whom she had received with a coldness, if not aversion, so marked, that,
if he had a spark of Rachel's spirit, he would never have approached her
more! Then came the thought--perhaps they understood one another, and
that was the meaning of Stanley's unexpected visit?
'Well, Dorcas, dear, I _am_ utterly amazed. But does Stanley--he can
hardly hope?'
Dorcas removed her arms from her cousin's neck; her face was pale, and
her cheeks wet with tears, which she did not wipe away.
'Sit down by me, Rachel. No, _he_ does _not_ like _me_--that is--I don't
know; but, I am sure, he can't suspect that I like him. It was my
determination it should not be. I resolved, Rachel, quite to extinguish
the madness; but I could not. It was not his doing, nor mine, but
something else. There are some families, I think, too wicked for Heaven
to protect, and they are given over to the arts of those who hated them
in life and pursue them after death; and this is the meaning of the curse
that has always followed us. No good will ever happen us, and I must go
like the rest.'
There was a short silence, and Rachel gazed on the carpet in troubled
reflection, and then, with an anxious look, she took her cousin's hand,
and said--
'Dorcas, you must think of this no more. I am speaking against my
brother's interest. But you must not sacrifice yourself, your fortune,
and your _happiness_, to a shadow; whatever his means are, they hardly
suffice for his personal expenses--indeed, they don't suffice, for I have
had to help him. But that is all trifling compared with other
considerations. I am his sister, and, though he has shown little love for
me, I am not without affection--and strong affection--for him; but I must
and will speak frankly. You could not, I don't think anyone could be
happy with Stanley for her husband. You don't know him: he's profligate;
he's ill-tempered; he's cold; he's selfish; he's secret. He was a spoiled
boy, totally without moral education; he might, perhaps, have been very
different, but he _is what_ he is, and I don't think he'll ever change.'
'He may be what he will. It is vain reasoning with that which is not
reason; the battle is over; possibly he may never know, and that might be
best for both--but be it how it may, I will never marry anyone else.'
'Dorcas, dear, you must not speak to Lady Chelford, or to Mark Wylder,
to-night. It is too serious a step to be taken in haste.'
'There has been no haste, Rachel, and there can be no change.'
'And what reason can you give?'
'None; no reason,' said Dorcas, slowly.
'Wylder would have been suitable in point of wealth. Not so well, I am
sure, as you _might_ have married; but neither would _he_ be a good
husband, though not so bad as Stanley; and I do not think that Mark
Wylder will quietly submit to his disappointment.'
'It was to have been simply a marriage of two estates. It was old Lady
Chelford's plan. I have now formed mine, and all that's over. Let him do
what he will--I believe a lawsuit is his worst revenge--I'm indifferent.'
Just then a knock came to the chamber door.
'Come in,' said Miss Brandon: and her maid entered to say that the
carriage, please Ma'am, was at the door to take Miss Lake home.
'I had no idea it was so late,' said Rachel.
'Stay, dear, don't go for a moment. Jones, bring Miss Lake's cloak and
bonnet here. And now, dear,' she said, after a little pause, 'you'll
remember your solemn promise?'
'I never broke my word, dear Dorcas; your secret is safe.'
'And, Rachel, try to like me.'
'I love you better, Dorcas, than I thought I ever could. Good-night,
dear.'
'Good-night.'
And the young ladies parted with a kiss, and then another.