MISS RACHEL LAKE BECOMES VIOLENT.
So soon as the letter which had so surprised and incensed Stanley Lake
was despatched, and beyond recall, Rachel, who had been indescribably
agitated before, grew all at once calm. She knew that she had done right.
She was glad the die was cast, and that it was out of her power to
retract.
She kneeled at her bedside, and wept and prayed, and then went down and
talked with old Tamar, who was knitting in the shade by the porch.
Then the young lady put on her bonnet and cloak, and walked down to
Gylingden, with an anxious, but still a lighter heart, to see her friend,
Dolly Wylder.
Dolly received her in a glad sort of fuss.
'I'm so glad to see you, Miss Lake.'
'Call me Rachel; and won't you let me call you Dolly?'
'Well, Rachel, dear,' replied Dolly, laughing, 'I'm delighted you're
come; I have such good news--but I can't tell it till I think for a
minute--I must begin at the beginning.'
'Anywhere, everywhere, only if it is good news, let me hear it at once.
I'll be sure to understand.'
'Well, Miss--I mean Rachel, dear--you know--I may tell you now--the
vicar--my dear Willie--he and I--we've been in great trouble--oh, such
trouble--Heaven _only_ knows--' and she dried her eyes quickly--'money,
my dear--' and she smiled with a bewildered shrug--'some debts at
Cambridge--no fault of his--you can't imagine what a saving darling he
is--but these were a few old things that mounted up with interest, my
dear--you understand--and law costs--oh, you can't think--and indeed,
dear Miss--well, _Rachel_--I forgot--I sometimes thought we must be quite
ruined.'
'Oh, Dolly, dear,' said Rachel, very pale, 'I feared it. I thought you
might be troubled about money. I was not sure, but I was afraid; and, to
say truth, it was partly to try your friendship with a question on that
very point that I came here, and not indeed, Dolly, dear, from
impertinent curiosity, but in the hope that maybe you might allow me to
be of some use.'
'How wonderfully good you are! How friends are raised up!' and with a
smile that shone like an April sun through her tears, she stood on
tiptoe, and kissed the tall young lady, who--not smiling, but with a pale
and very troubled face--bowed down and returned her kiss.
'You know, dear, before he went, Mark promised to lend dear Willie a
large sum of money. Well, he went away in such a hurry, that he never
thought of it; and though he constantly wrote to Mr. Larkin--you have no
idea, my dear Miss Lake, what a blessed angel that man is--oh! _such_ a
friend as has been raised up to us in that holy and wise man, words
cannot express; but what was I saying?--oh, yes--Mark, you know--it was
very kind, but he has so many things on his mind it quite escaped
him--and he keeps, you know, wandering about on the Continent, and never
gives his address; so he, can't, you see, be written to; and the
delay--but, Rachel, darling, are you ill?'
She rang the bell, and opened the window, and got some water.
'My darling, you walked too fast here. You were very near fainting.'
'No, dear--nothing--I am quite well now--go on.'
But she did not go on immediately, for Rachel was trembling in a kind of
shivering fit, which did not pass away till after poor Dolly, who had no
other stimulant at command, made her drink a cup of very hot milk.
'Thank you, darling. You are too good to me, Dolly. Oh! Dolly, you are
too good to me.'
Rachel's eyes were looking into hers with a careworn, entreating gaze,
and her cold hand was pressed on the back of Dolly's.
Nearly ten minutes passed before the talk was renewed.
'Well, now, what do you think--that good man, Mr. Larkin, just as things
were at the worst, found a way to make everything--oh, blessed
mercy!--the hand of Heaven, my dear--quite right again--and we'll be so
happy. Like a bird I could sing, and fly almost--a foolish old thing--ha!
ha! ha!--such an old goose!' and she wiped her eyes again.
'Hush! is that Fairy? Oh, no, it is only Anne singing. Little man has not
been well yesterday and to-day. He won't eat, and looks pale, but he
slept very well, my darling man; and Doctor Buddle--I met him this
morning--so kindly took him into his room, and examined him, and says it
may be nothing at all, please Heaven,' and she sighed, smiling still.
'Dear little Fairy--where is he?' asked Rachel, her sad eyes looking
toward the door.
'In the study with his Wapsie. Mrs. Woolaston, she is such a kind soul,
lent him such a beautiful old picture book--"Woodward's Eccentricities"
it is called--and he's quite happy--little Fairy, on his little stool at
the window.'
'No headache or fever?' asked Miss Lake cheerfully, though, she knew not
why, there seemed something ominous in this little ailment.
'None at all; oh, none, thank you; none in the world. I'd be so
frightened if there was. But, thank Heaven, Doctor Buddle says there's
nothing to make us at all uneasy. My blessed little man! And he has his
canary in the cage in the window, and his kitten to play with in the
study. He's quite happy.'
'Please Heaven, he'll be quite well to-morrow--the darling little man,'
said Rachel, all the more fondly for that vague omen that seemed to say,
'He's gone.'
'Here's Mr. Larkin!' cried Dolly, jumping up, and smiling and nodding at
the window to that long and natty apparition, who glided to the hall-door
with a sad smile, raising his well-brushed hat as he passed, and with one
grim glance beyond Mrs. Wylder, for his sharp eye half detected another
presence in the room.
He was followed, not accompanied--for Mr. Larkin knew what a gentleman he
was--by a young and bilious clerk, with black hair and a melancholy
countenance, and by old Buggs--his conducting man--always grinning, whose
red face glared in the little garden like a great bunch of hollyhocks. He
was sober as a judge all the morning, and proceeded strictly on the
principle of business first, and pleasure afterward. But his orgies, when
off duty, were such as to cause the good attorney, when complaints
reached him, to shake his head, and sigh profoundly, and sometimes to
lift up his mild eyes and long hands; and, indeed, so scandalous an
appendage was Buggs, that if he had been less useful, I believe the pure
attorney, who, in the uncomfortable words of John Bunyan, 'had found a
cleaner road to hell,' would have cashiered him long ago.
'There is that awful Mr. Buggs,' said Dolly, with a look of honest alarm.
'I often wonder so Christian a man as Mr. Larkin can countenance him. He
is hardly ever without a black eye. He has been three nights together
without once putting off his clothes--think of that; and, my dear, on
Friday week he fell through the window of the Fancy Emporium, at two
o'clock in the morning; and Doctor Buddle says if the cut on his jaw had
been half an inch lower, he would have cut some artery, and lost his
life--wretched man!'
'They have come about law business, Dolly!' enquired the young lady, who
had a profound, instinctive dread of Mr. Larkin.
'Yes, my dear; a most important windfall. Only for Mr. Larkin, it never
could have been accomplished, and, indeed, I don't think it would ever
have been thought of.'
'I hope he has some one to advise him,' said Miss Lake, anxiously. 'I--I
think Mr. Larkin a very cunning person; and you know your husband does
not understand business.'
'Is it Mr. Larkin, my dear? Mr. Larkin! Why, my dear, if you knew him as
we do, you'd trust your life in his hands.'
'But there are people who know him still better; and I think they fancy
he is a very crafty man. I do not like him myself, and Dorcas Brandon
dislikes him too; and, though I don't think we could either give a
reason--I don't know, Dolly, but I should not like to trust him.'
'But, my dear, he is an excellent man, and such a friend, and he has
managed all this most troublesome business so delightfully. It is what
they call a reversion.'
'William Wylder is not selling his reversion?' said Rachel, fixing a wild
and startled look on her companion.
'Yes, reversion, I am sure, is the name. And why not, dear? It is most
unlikely we should ever get a farthing of it any other way, and it will
give us enough to make us quite happy.'
'But, my darling, don't you know the reversion under the will is a great
_fortune_? He must not think of it;' and up started Rachel, and before
Dolly could interpose or remonstrate, she had crossed the little hall,
and entered the homely study, where the gentlemen were conferring.
William Wylder was sitting at his desk, and a large sheet of law
scrivenery, on thick paper, with a stamp in the corner, was before him.
The bald head of the attorney, as he leaned over him, and indicated an
imaginary line with his gold pencil-case, was presented toward Miss Lake
as she entered.
The attorney had just said '_there_, please,' in reply to the vicar's
question, 'Where do I write my name?' and red Buggs, grinning with his
mouth open, like an over-heated dog, and the sad and bilious young
gentleman, stood by to witness the execution of the cleric's autograph.
Tall Jos. Larkin looked up, smiling with his mouth also a little open, as
was his wont when he was particularly affable. But the rat's eyes were
looking at her with a hungry suspicion, and smiled not.
'William Wylder, I am so glad I'm in time,' said Rachel, rustling across
the room.
'_There_,' said the attorney, very peremptorily, and making a little
furrow in the thick paper with the seal end of his pencil.
'Stop, William Wylder, don't sign; I've a word to say--you _must_ pause.'
'If it affects our business, Miss Lake, I do request that you address
yourself to me; if not, may I beg, Miss Lake, that you will defer it for
a moment.'
'William Wylder, lay down that pen; as you love your little boy, lay it
_down_, and hear me,' continued Miss Lake.
The vicar looked at her with his eyes wide open, puzzled, like a man who
is not quite sure whether he may not be doing something wrong.
'I--really, Miss Lake--pardon me, but this is very irregular, and, in
fact, unprecedented!' said Jos. Larkin. 'I think--I suppose, you can
hardly be aware, Ma'am, that I am here as the Rev. Mr. Wylder's
confidential solicitor, acting solely for him, in a matter of a strictly
private nature.'
The attorney stood erect, a little flushed, with that peculiar
contraction, mean and dangerous, in his eyes.
'Of course, Mr. Wylder, if you, Sir, desire me to leave, I shall
instantaneously do so; and, indeed, unless you proceed to sign, I had
better go, as my time is generally, I may say, a little pressed upon, and
I have, in fact, some business elsewhere to attend to.'
'What _is_ this law-paper?' demanded Rachel, laying the tips of her
slender fingers upon it.
'Am I to conclude that you withdraw from your engagement?' asked Mr.
Larkin. 'I had better, then, communicate with Burlington and Smith by
this post; as also with the sheriff, who has been very kind.'
'Oh, no!--oh, no, Mr. Larkin!--pray, I'm quite ready to sign.'
'Now, William Wylder, you _sha'n't_ sign until you tell me whether this
is a sale of your reversion.'
The young lady had her white hand firmly pressed upon the spot where he
was to sign, and the ring that glittered on her finger looked like a
talisman interposing between the poor vicar and the momentous act he was
meditating.
'I think, Miss Lake, it is pretty plain you are not acting for yourself
here--you have been sent, Ma'am,' said the attorney, looking very
vicious, and speaking a little huskily and hurriedly; 'I quite conceive
by whom.'
'I don't know what you mean, Sir,' replied Miss Lake, with grave disdain.
'You have been commissioned, Ma'am, I venture to think, to come here to
watch the interests of another party.'
'I say, Sir, I don't in the least comprehend you.'
'I think it is pretty obvious, Ma'am--Miss Lake, I beg pardon--you have
had some conversation with your _brother_,' answered the attorney, with a
significant sneer.
'I don't know what you mean, Sir, I repeat. I've just heard, in the other
room, from your wife, William Wylder, that you were about selling your
reversion in the estates, and I want to know whether that is so; for if
it be, it is the act of a madman, and I'll prevent it, if I possibly
can.'
'Upon my word! possibly'--said the vicar, his eyes very wide open, and
looking with a hesitating gaze from Rachel to the attorney--'there may be
something in it which neither you nor I know; does it not strike you--had
we not better consider?'
'Consider _what_, Sir?' said the attorney, with a snap, and losing his
temper somewhat. 'It is simply, Sir, that this young lady represents
Captain Lake, who wishes to get the reversion for himself.'
'That is utterly false, Sir!' said Miss Lake, flashing and blushing with
indignation. 'You, William, are a _gentleman_; and such inconceivable
meanness cannot enter _your_ mind.'
The attorney, with what he meant to be a polished sarcasm, bowed and
smiled toward Miss Lake.
Pale little Fairy, sitting before his 'picture-book,' was watching the
scene with round eyes and round mouth, and that mixture of interest, awe,
and distress, with which children witness the uncomprehended excitement
and collision of their elders.
'My dear Miss Lake, I respect and esteem you; you quite mistake, I am
persuaded, my good friend Mr. Larkin; and, indeed, I don't quite
comprehend; but if it were so, and that your brother really wished--do
you think he does, Mr. Larkin?--to buy the reversion, he might think it
more valuable, perhaps.'
'I can say with certainty, Sir, that from that quarter you would get
nothing like what you have agreed to take; and I must say, once for all,
Sir, that--quite setting aside every consideration of honour and of
conscience, and of the highly prejudicial position in which you would
place me as a man of business, by taking the very _short turn_ which this
young lady, Miss Lake, suggests--your letters amount to an equitable
agreement to sell, which, on petition, the court would compel you to do.'
'So you see, my dear Miss Lake, there is no more to be said,' said the
vicar, with a careworn smile, looking upon Rachel's handsome face.
'Now, now, we are all friends, aren't we?' said poor Dolly, who could not
make anything of the debate, and was staring, with open mouth, from one
speaker to another. 'We are all agreed, are not we? You are all so good,
and fond of Willie, that you are actually ready almost to quarrel for
him.' But her little laugh produced no echo, except a very joyless and
flushed effort from the attorney, as he looked up from consulting his
watch.
'Eleven minutes past three,' said he, 'and I've a meeting at my house at
half-past: so, unless you complete that instrument _now_, I regret to say
I must take it back unfinished, and the result may be to defeat the
arrangement altogether, and if the consequences should prove serious, I,
at least, am not to blame.'
'Don't sign, I entreat, I _implore_ of you. William Wylder, you
_shan't_.'
'But, my dear Miss Lake, we have considered everything, and Mr. Larkin
and I agree that my circumstances are such as to make it inevitable.'
'Really, this is child's play; _there_, if you please,' said the
attorney, once more.
Rachel Lake, during the discussion, had removed her hand. The
faintly-traced line on which the vicar was to sign was now fairly
presented to him.
'Just in your usual way,' murmured Mr. Larkin.
So the vicar's pen was applied, but before he had time to trace the first
letter of his name, Rachel Lake resolutely snatched the thick, bluish
sheet of scrivenery, with its handsome margins, and red ink lines, from
before him, and tore it across and across, with the quickness of terror,
and in fewer seconds than one could fancy, it lay about the floor and
grate in pieces little bigger than dominoes.
The attorney made a hungry snatch at the paper, over William Wylder's
shoulder, nearly bearing that gentleman down on his face, but his clutch
fell short.
'Hallo! Miss Lake, Ma'am--the paper!'
But wild words were of no avail. The whole party, except Rachel, were
aghast. The attorney's small eye glanced over the ground and hearthstone,
where the bits were strewn, like
Ladies' smocks, all silver white,
That paint the meadows with delight.
He had nothing for it but to submit to fortune with his best air. He
stood erect; a slanting beam from the window glimmered on his tall, bald
head, and his face was black and menacing as the summit of a
thunder-crowned peak.
'You are not aware, Miss Lake, of the nature of your act, and of the
consequences to which you have exposed yourself, Madam. But that is a
view of the occurrence in which, except as a matter of deep regret, I
cannot be supposed to be immediately interested. I will mention, however,
that your interference, your _violent_ interference, Madam, may be
attended with most serious consequences to my reverend client, for which,
of course, you constituted yourself fully responsible, when you entered
on the course of unauthorised interference, which has resulted in
destroying the articles of agreement, prepared with great care and
labour, for his protection; and retarding the transmission of the
document, by at least four-and-twenty hours, to London. You may, Madam, I
regret to observe, have ruined my client.'
'Saved him, I hope.'
'And run yourself, Madam, into a _very_ serious scrape.'
'Upon that point you have said quite enough, Sir. Dolly, William, don't
look so frightened; you'll both live to thank me for this.'
All this time little Fairy, unheeded, was bawling in great anguish of
soul, clinging to Rachel's dress, and crying--'Oh! he'll hurt her--he'll
hurt her--he'll hurt her. Don't let him--don't let him. Wapsie, don't let
him. Oh! the frightle man!--don't let him--he'll hurt her--the frightle
man!' And little man's cheeks were drenched in tears, and his wee feet
danced in an agony of terror on the floor, as, bawling, he tried to pull
his friend Rachel into a corner.
'Nonsense, little man,' cried his father, with quick reproof, on hearing
this sacrilegious uproar. 'Mr. Larkin never hurt anyone; tut, tut; sit
down, and look at your book.'
But Rachel, with a smile of love and gratification, lifted the little man
up in her arms, and kissed him; and his thin, little legs were clasped
about her waist, and his arms round her neck, and he kissed her with his
wet face, devouringly, blubbering 'the frightle man--you doatie!--the
frightle man!'
'Then, Mr. Wylder, I shall have the document prepared again from the
draft. You'll see to that, Mr. Buggs, please; and perhaps it will be
better that you should look in at the Lodge.'
When he mentioned the Lodge, it was in so lofty a way that a stranger
would have supposed it something very handsome indeed, and one of the
sights of the county.
'Say, about nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Farewell, Mr. Wylder,
farewell. I regret the enhanced expense--I regret the delay--I regret the
risk--I regret, in fact, the whole scene. Farewell, Mrs. Wylder.' And
with a silent bow to Rachel--perfectly polished, perfectly terrible--he
withdrew, followed by the sallow clerk, and by that radiant scamp, old
Buggs, who made them several obeisances at the door.
'Oh, dear Miss Lake--Rachel, I mean--Rachel, dear, I hope it won't be all
off. Oh, you don't know--Heaven only knows--the danger we are in. Oh,
Rachel, dear, if this is broken off, I don't know what is to become of
us--I don't know.'
Dolly spoke quite wildly, with her hands on Rachel's shoulders. It was
the first time she had broken down, the first time, at least, the vicar
had seen her anything but cheery, and his head sank, and it seemed as if
his last light had gone out, and he was quite benighted.
'Do you think,' said he, 'there is much danger of that? Do you really
think so?'
'Now, don't blame me,' said Miss Lake, 'and don't be frightened till you
have heard me. Let us sit down here--we shan't be interrupted--and just
answer your wretched friend, Rachel, two or three questions, and hear
what she has to say.'
Rachel was flushed and excited, and sat with the little boy still in her
arms.
So, in reply to her questions, the vicar told her frankly how he stood;
and Rachel said--'Well, you must not think of selling your reversion. Oh!
think of your little boy--think of Dolly--if _you_ were taken away from
her.'
'But,' said Dolly, 'Mr. Larkin heard from Captain Lake that Mark is
privately married, and actually has, he says, a large family; and he, you
know, has letters from him, and Mr. Larkin thinks, knows more than anyone
else about him; and if that were so, none of us would ever inherit the
property. So'--
'_Do_ they say that Mark is married? Nothing can be more _false_. I
_know_ it is altogether a falsehood. He neither is nor ever will be
married. If my brother _dared_ say that in my presence, I would make him
confess, before you, that he _knows_ it cannot be. Oh! my poor little
Fairy--my poor Dolly--my poor good friend, William! What shall I say? I
am in great distraction of mind.' And she hugged and kissed the pale
little boy, she herself paler.
'Listen to me, good and kind as you are. You are never to call me your
friend, mind that. I am a most unhappy creature forced by circumstances
to be your enemy, for a time--not always. You have no conception _how_,
and may never even suspect. Don't ask me, but listen.'
Wonder stricken and pained was the countenance with which the vicar gazed
upon her, and Dolly looked both frightened and perplexed.
'I have a little more than three hundred a-year. There is a little
annuity charged on Sir Hugh Landon's estate, and his solicitor has
written, offering me six hundred pounds for it. I will write to-night
accepting that offer, and you shall have the money to pay those debts
which have been pressing so miserably upon you. _Don't_ thank--not a
word--but listen. I would so like, Dolly, to come and live with you. We
could unite our incomes. I need only bring poor old Tamar with me, and I
can give up Redman's Farm in September next. I should be so much happier;
and I think my income and yours joined would enable us to live without
any danger of getting into debt. Will you agree to this, Dolly, dear; and
promise me, William Wylder, that you will think no more of selling that
reversion, which may be the splendid provision of your dear little boy.
Don't thank me--don't say anything now; and oh! don't reject my poor
entreaty. Your refusal would almost make me mad. I would try, Dolly, to
be of use. I think I could. Only try me.'
She fancied she saw in Dolly's face, under all her gratitude, some
perplexity and hesitation, and feared to accept a decision then. So she
hurried away, with a hasty and kind good-bye.
A fortnight before, I think, during Dolly's jealous fit, this magnificent
offer of Rachel's would, notwithstanding the dreadful necessities of the
case, have been coldly received by the poor little woman. But that
delusion was quite cured now--no reserve, or doubt, or coldness left
behind. And Dolly and the vicar felt that Rachel's noble proposal was the
making of them.