LADY MACBETH.
'Here it is,' said the captain. 'Beaten'--then came an oath--'three
votes--how the devil was that?--there it is, by Jove--no
mistake--majority against ministers, three! Is that the "Times?" What
does _it_ say?'
'A long leader--no resignation--immediate dissolution. That is what I
collect from it.'
'How on earth could they have miscalculated so! Swivell, I see, voted in
the majority; that's very odd; and, by Jove, there's Surplice, too, and
he's good for seven votes. Why his own paper was backing the ministers!
What a fellow that is! That accounts for it all. A difference of fourteen
votes.'
And thus we went on, discussing this unexpected turn of luck, and reading
to one another snatches of the leading articles in different interests
upon the subject.
Then Lake, recollecting his letters, opened a large-sealed envelope, with
S.C.G. in the corner.
'This is from Gybes--let us see. Oh! _before_ the division. "It looks a
little fishy," he says--well, so it does--"We may take the division
to-night. Should it prove adverse, you are to expect an immediate
dissolution; this on _the best authority_. I write to mention this, as I
may be too much hurried to-morrow."'
We were discussing this note when Wealdon arrived.
'Well, captain; great news, Sir. The best thing, I take it, could have
happened ministers, ha, ha, ha! A rotten house--down with it--blow it
up--three votes only--but as good as three hundred for the purpose--of
the three hundred, grant but three, you know--of course, they don't think
of resigning.'
'Oh, dear, no--an immediate dissolution. Read that,' said Lake, tossing
Gybes' note to him.
'Ho, then, we'll have the writs down hot and heavy. We must be sharp. The
sheriff's all right; that's a point. You must not lose an hour in getting
your committee together, and printing your address.'
'Who's on the other side?'
'You'll have Jennings, of course; but they are talking of four different
men, already, to take Sir Harry Twisden's place. _He'll_ resign; that's
past a doubt now. He has his retiring address written; Lord Edward Mordun
read it; and he told FitzStephen on Sunday, after church, that he'd never
sit again.'
'Here, by Jove, is a letter from Mowbray,' said Lake, opening it. 'All
about his brother George. Hears I'm up for the county. Lord George ready
to join and go halves. What shall I say?'
'Could not have a better man. Tell him you desire no better, and will
bring it at once before your committee; and let him know, the moment they
meet; and tell him _I_ say he knows Wealdon pretty well--he may look on
it as settled. That will be a spoke in Sir Harry's wheel.'
'Sir Harry who?' said Lake.
'Bracton. I think it's only to spoil your game, you see,' answered
Wealdon.
'Abundance of malice; but I don't think he's countenanced?'
'He'll try to get the start of you; and if he does, one or other must go
to the wall; for Lord George is too strong to be shook out. Do _you_ get
forward at once; that's your plan, captain.'
Then the captain recurred to his letters, which were a larger pack than
usual this morning, chatting all the time with Wealdon and me on the
tremendous topic, and tossing aside every letter that did not bear on the
coming struggle.
'Who can this be?' said Lake, looking at the address of one of these.
'Very like my hand,' and he examined the seal. It was only a large
wafer-stamp, so he broke it open, and drew out a shabby, very ill-written
scroll. He turned suddenly away, talking the while, but with his eyes
upon the note, and then he folded, or rather crumpled it up, and stuffed
it into his pocket, and continued his talk; but it was now plain to me
there was something more on his mind, and he was thinking of the shabby
letter he had just received.
But, no matter; the election was the pressing topic, and Lake was soon
engaged in it again.
There was now a grand _coup_ under discussion--the forestalling of all
the horses and vehicles along the line of railway, and in all the
principal posting establishments throughout the county.
'They'll want to keep it open for a bid from the other side. It is a
heavy item any way; and if you want to engage them now, you'll have to
give double what they got last time.'
But Lake was not to be daunted. He wanted the seat, and would stick at
nothing to secure it; and so, Wealdon got instructions, in his own
phrase, to go the whole animal.
As I could be of no possible use in local details, I left the council of
war sitting, intending a stroll in the grounds.
In the hall, I met the mistress of the house, looking very handsome, but
with a certain witch-like beauty, very pale, something a little haggard
in her great, dark eyes, and a strange, listening look. Was it
watchfulness? was it suspicion? She was dressed gravely but richly, and
received me kindly--and, strange to say, with a smile that, yet, was not
joyful.
'I hope she is happy. Lake is such a beast; I hope he does not bully
her.'
In truth, there were in her exquisite features the traces of that
mysterious misery and fear which seemed to fall wherever Stanley Lake's
ill-omened confidences were given.
I walked down one of the long alleys, with tall, close hedges of beech,
as impenetrable as cloister walls to sight, and watched the tench basking
and flickering in the clear pond, and the dazzling swans sailing
majestically along.
What a strange passion is ambition, I thought. Is it really the passion
of great minds, or of little. Here is Lake, with a noble old place,
inexhaustible in variety; with a beautiful, and I was by this time
satisfied, a very singular and interesting woman for his wife, who must
have married him for love, pure and simple; a handsome fortune; the power
to bring his friends--those whom he liked, or who amused him--about him,
and to indulge luxuriously every reasonable fancy, willing to forsake
all, and follow the beck of that phantom. Had he knowledge, public
talents, training? Nothing of the sort. Had he patriotism, any one noble
motive or fine instinct to prompt him to public life? The mere suggestion
was a sneer. It seemed to me, simply, that Stanley Lake was a lively,
amusing, and even intelligent man, without any internal resource; vacant,
peevish, with an unmeaning passion for corruption and intrigue, and the
sort of egotism which craves distinction. So I supposed.
Yet, with all its weakness, there was a dangerous force in the character
which, on the whole, inspired an odd mixture of fear and contempt. I was
bitten, however, already, by the interest of the coming contest. It is
very hard to escape that subtle and intoxicating poison. I wondered what
figure Stanley would make as a hustings orator, and what impression in
his canvass. The latter, I was pretty confident about. Altogether,
curiosity, if no deeper sentiment, was highly piqued; and I was glad I
happened to drop in at the moment of action, and wished to see the play
out.
At the door of her boudoir, Rachel Lake met Dorcas.
'I am so glad, Radie, dear, you are come. You must take off your things,
and stay. You must not leave me to-night. We'll send home for whatever
you want; and you won't leave me, Radie, I'm certain.'
'I'll stay, dear, as you wish it,' said Rachel, kissing her.
'Did you see Stanley? I have not seen him to-day,' said Dorcas.
'No, dear; I peeped into the library, but he was not there; and there are
two men writing in the Dutch room, very busily,'
'It must be about the election.'
'What election, dear?' asked Rachel.
'There is going to be an election for the county, and--only think--he
intends coming forward. I sometimes think he is mad, Radie.'
'I could not have supposed such a thing. If I were he, I think I should
fly to the antipodes. I should change my name, sear my features with
vitriol, and learn another language. I should obliterate my past self
altogether; but men are so different, so audacious--some men, at
least--and Stanley, ever since his ill-omened arrival at Redman's Farm,
last autumn, has amazed and terrified me.'
'I think, Radie, we have both courage--_you_ have certainly; you have
shown it, darling, and you must cease to blame yourself; I think you a
_heroine_, Radie; but you know _I_ see with the wild eyes of the
Brandons.'
'I am grateful, Dorcas, that you don't hate me. Most women I am sure
would abhor me--yes, Dorcas--_abhor_ me.'
'You and I against the world, Radie!' said Dorcas, with a wild smile and
a dark admiration in her look, and kissing Rachel again. 'I used to think
myself brave; it belongs to women of our blood; but this is no common
strain upon courage, Radie. I've grown to fear Stanley somehow like a
ghost; I fear it is even worse than he says,' and she looked with a
horrible enquiry into Rachel's eyes.
'So do _I_, Dorcas,' said Rachel, in a firm low whisper, returning her
look as darkly.
'What's done cannot be undone,' said Rachel, sadly, after a little pause,
unconsciously quoting from a terrible soliloquy of Shakespeare.
'I know what you mean, Radie; and you warned me, with a strange
second-sight, before the evil was known to either of us. It was an
irrevocable step, and I took it, not seeing all that has happened, it is
true; but forewarned. And this I will say, Radie, if I _had_ known the
worst, I think even that would not have deterred me. It was madness--it
_is_ madness, for I love him still. Rachel, though I know him and his
wickedness, and am filled with horror--I love him desperately.'
'I am very glad,' said Rachel, 'that you do know everything. It is so
great a relief to have companionship. I often thought I must go mad in my
solitude.'
'Poor Rachel! I think you wonderful--I think you a heroine--I do, Radie;
you and I are made for one another--the same blood--something of the same
wild nature; I can admire you, and understand you, and will always love
you.'
'I've been with William Wylder and Dolly. That wicked attorney, Mr.
Larkin, is resolved on robbing them. I wish they had anyone able to
advise them. Stanley I am sure could save them; but he does not choose to
do it. He was always so angry when I urged him to help them, that I knew
it would be useless asking him; I don't think he knows what Mr. Larkin
has been doing; but, Dorcas, I am afraid the very same thought has been
in his mind.'
'I hope not, Radie,' and Dorcas sighed deeply. 'Everything is so
wonderful and awful in the light that has come.'
That morning, poor William Wylder had received a letter from Jos. Larkin,
Esq., mentioning that he had found Messrs. Burlington and Smith anything
but satisfied with him--the vicar. What exactly he had done to disoblige
them he could not bring to mind. But Jos. Larkin told him that he had
done all in his power 'to satisfy them of the _bonâ fide_ character' of
his reverend client's dealings from the first. But 'they still express
themselves dissatisfied upon the point, and appear to suspect a
disposition to shilly-shally.' I have said 'all I could to disabuse them
of the unpleasant prejudice; but I think I should hardly be doing my duty
if I were not to warn you that you will do wisely to exhibit no
hesitation in the arrangements by which your agreement is to be carried
out, and that in the event of your showing the slightest disposition to
qualify the spirit of your strong note to them, or in anywise
disappointing their client, you must be prepared, from what I know of the
firm, for very sharp practice indeed.'
What could they do to him, or why should they hurt him, or what had he
done to excite either the suspicion or the temper of the firm? They
expected their client, the purchaser, in a day or two. He was already
grumbling at the price, and certainly would stand no trifling. Neither
would Messrs. Burlington and Smith, who, he must admit, had gone to very
great expense in investigating title, preparing deeds, &c., and who were
noted as a very expensive house. He was aware that they were in a
position to issue an execution on the guarantee for the entire amount of
their costs; but he thought so extreme a measure would hardly be
contemplated, notwithstanding their threats, unless the purchaser were to
withdraw or the vendor to exhibit symptoms of--he would not repeat their
phrase--irresolution in his dealing. He had, however, placed the vicar's
letter in their hands, and had accompanied it with his own testimony to
the honour and character of the Rev. William Wylder, which he was happy
to say seemed to have considerable weight with Messrs. Burlington and
Smith. There was also this passage, 'Feeling acutely the anxiety into
which the withdrawal of the purchaser must throw you--though I trust
nothing of that sort may occur--I told them that rather than have you
thrown upon your beam-ends by such an occurrence, I would myself step in
and purchase on the terms agreed on. This will, I trust, quiet them on
the subject of their costs, and also prevent any low _dodging_ on the
part of the purchaser.'
This letter would almost seem to have been written with a supernatural
knowledge of what was passing in Gylingden, and was certainly well
contrived to prevent the vicar from wavering.
But all this time the ladies are conversing in Dorcas's boudoir.
'This election frightens me, Radie--everything frightens me now--but this
is _so_ audacious. If there be powers either in heaven or hell, it seems
like a defiance and an invocation. I am glad you are here, Radie--I have
grown so nervous--so superstitious, I believe; watching always for signs
and omens. Oh, darling, the world's ghastly for me now.'
'I wish, Dorcas, we were away--as you used to say--in some wild and
solitary retreat, living together--two recluses--but all that is
visionary--quite visionary now.'
Dorcas sighed.
'You know, Rachel, the world must not see this--we will carry our heads
high. Wicked men, and brave and suffering women--that is the history of
our family--and men and women always quite unlike the rest of the
world--unlike the human race; and somehow they interest me unspeakably. I
wish I knew more about those proud, forlorn beauties, whose portraits are
fading on the walls. Their spirit, I am sure, is in us, Rachel; and their
pictures and traditions have always supported me. When I was a little
thing, I used to look at them with a feeling of melancholy and mystery.
They were in my eyes, reserved prophetesses, who could speak, if they
would, of my own future.'
'A poor support, Dorcas--a broken reed. I wish we could find another--the
true one, in the present, and in the coming time.'
Dorcas smiled faintly, and I think there was a little gleam of a ghastly
satire in it. I am afraid that part of her education which deals with
futurity had been neglected.
'I am more likely to turn into a Lady Macbeth than a _dévote_,' said she,
coldly, with the same painful smile. 'I found myself last night sitting
up in my bed, talking in the dark about it.'
There was a silence for a time, and Rachel said,--
'It is growing late, Dorcas.'
'But you must not go, Rachel--you _must_ stay and keep me company--you
must, _indeed_, Radie,' said Dorcas.
'So I will,' she answered; 'but I must send a line to old Tamar; and I
promised Dolly to go down to her to-night, if that darling little boy
should be worse--I am very unhappy about him.'
'And is he in danger, the handsome little fellow?' said Dorcas.
'Very great danger, I fear,' said Rachel. 'Doctor Buddle has been very
kind--but he is, I am afraid, more desponding than poor William or Dolly
imagines--Heaven help them!'
'But children recover wonderfully. What is his ailment?'
'Gastric fever, the doctor says. I had a foreboding of evil the moment I
saw him--before the poor little man was put to his bed.'
Dorcas rang the bell.
'Now, Radie, if you wish to write, sit down here--or if you prefer a
message, Thomas can take one very accurately; and he shall call at the
vicar's, and see Dolly, and bring us word how the dear little boy is. And
don't fancy, darling, I have forgotten what you said to me about
duty--though I would call it differently--only I feel so wild, I can
think of nothing clearly yet. But I am making up my mind to a great and
bold step, and when I am better able, I will talk it over with you--my
only friend, Rachel.'
And she kissed her.