Wylder's Hand Part 25

'It was cheerful always till this frightful week changed everything. Oh!

why, why, why did you ever come?' She threw back her pale face, biting her lip, and even in that deepening gloom her small pearly teeth glimmered white; and then she burst into sobs and an agony of tears.

Captain Lake knew something of feminine paroxysms. Rachel was not given to hysterics. He knew this burst of anguish was unaffected. He was rather glad of it. When it was over he expected clearer weather and a calm. So he waited, saying now and then a soothing word or two.

'There--there--there, Radie--there's a good girl. Never mind--there--there.' And between whiles his mind, which, in truth, had a good deal upon it, would wander and pursue its dismal and perplexed explorations, to the unheard accompaniment of her sobs.

He went to the door, but it was not to call for water, or for old Tamar.

On the contrary, it was to observe whether she or the girl was listening.

But the house, though small, was built with thick part.i.tion walls, and sounds were well enclosed in the rooms to which they belonged.

With Rachel this weakness did not last long. It was a gust--violent--soon over; and the 'o'er-charged' heart and brain were relieved. And she pushed open the window, and stood for a moment in the chill air, and sighed, and whispered a word or two over the closing flowers of her little garden toward the darkening glen, and with another great sigh closed the window, and returned.

'Can I do anything, Radie? You're better now. I knew you would be. Shall I get some water from your room?'

'No, Stanley; no, thank you. I'm very well now,' she said, gently.

'Yes, I think so. I knew you'd be better.' And he patted her shoulder with his soft hand; and then followed a short silence.

'I wish you were more pleasantly lodged, Radie; but we can speak of that another time.'

'Yes--you're right. This place is dreadful, and its darkness dreadful; but light is still more dreadful now, and I think I'll change; but, as you say, there is time enough to think of all that.'

'Quite so--time enough. By-the-bye, Radie, you mentioned our old servant, whom my father thought so highly of--Jim Dutton--the other evening. I've been thinking of him, do you know, and I should like to find him out. He was a very honest fellow, and attached, and a clever fellow, too, my father thought; and _he_ was a good judge. Hadn't you a letter from his mother lately? You told me so, I think; and if it is not too much trouble, dear Radie, would you allow me to see it?'

Rachel opened her desk, and silently selected one of those clumsy and original missives, directed in a staggering, round hand, on paper oddly shaped and thick, such as mixes not naturally with the aristocratic fabric, on which crests and ciphers are impressed, and placed it in her brother's hand.

'But you can't read it without light,' said Rachel.

'No; but there's no hurry. Does she say where she is staying, or her son?'

'Both, I think,' answered Rachel, languidly; 'but he'll never make a servant for you--he's a rough creature, she says, and was a groom. You can't remember him, nor I either.'

'Perhaps--very likely;' and he put the letter in his pocket.

'I was thinking, Rachel, you could advise me, if you would, you are so clever, you know.'

'Advise!' said Rachel, softly; but with a wild and bitter rage ringing under it. 'I did advise when it was yet time to profit by advice. I bound you even by a promise to take it, but you know how it ended. You don't want my advice.'

'But really I do, Radie. I quite allow I was wrong--worse than wrong--but where is the use of attacking me now, when I'm in this dreadful fix? I took a wrong step; and what I now have to do is to guard myself, if possible, from what I'm threatened with.'

She fancied she saw his pale face grow more bloodless, even in the shadow where he sat.

'I know you too well, Stanley. You want _no_ advice. You never took advice--you never will. Your desperate and ingrained perversity has ruined us both.'

'I wish you'd let me know my own mind. I say I do--(and he uttered an unpleasant exclamation). Do you think I'll leave matters to take their course, and sit down here to be destroyed? I'm no such idiot. I tell you I'll leave no stone unturned to save myself; and, in some measure, _you_ too, Radie. You don't seem to comprehend the tremendous misfortune that menaces me--_us_--_you_ and me.'

And he cursed Mark Wylder with a gasp of hatred not easily expressed.

She winced at the name, and brushed her hand to her ear.

'Don't--don't--_don't_,' she said, vehemently.

'Well, what the devil do you mean by refusing to help me, even with a hint? I say--I _know_--all the odds are against us. It is sometimes a long game; but unless I'm sharp, I can't escape what's coming. I _can't_--you can't--sooner or later. It is in motion already--d-- him--it's coming, and you expect me to do everything alone.'

'I repeat it, Stanley,' said Rachel, with a fierce cynicism in her low tones, 'you don't want advice; you have formed your plan, whatever it is, and that plan you will follow, and no other, though men and angels were united to dissuade you.'

There was a pause here, and a silence for a good many seconds.

'Well, perhaps, I _have_ formed an outline of a plan, and it strikes me as very well I have--for I don't think you are likely to take that trouble. I only want to explain it, and get your advice, and any little a.s.sistance you can give me; and surely that is not unreasonable?'

'I have learned one secret, and am exposed to one danger. I have taken--to save you--it may be only a _respite_--one step, the remembrance of which is insupportable. But I was pa.s.sive. I am fallen from light into darkness. There ends my share in your confidence and your fortunes. I will know no more secrets--no more disgrace; do what you will, you shall never use me again.'

'Suppose these heroics of yours, Miss Radie, should contribute to bring about--to bring about the worst,' said Stanley, with a sneer, through which his voice trembled.

'Let it come--my resolution is taken.'

Stanley walked to the window, and in his easy way, as he would across a drawing-room to stand by a piano, and he looked out upon the trees, whose tops stood motionless against the darkened sky, like ma.s.ses of ruins.

Then he came back as gently as he had gone, and stood beside his sister; she could not see his yellow eyes now as he stood with his back to the window.

'Well, Radie, dear--you have put your hand to the plough, and you sha'n't turn back now.'

'What?'

'No--you sha'n't turn back now.'

'You seem, Sir, to fancy that I have no right to choose for myself,' said Miss Rachel, spiritedly.

'Now, Radie, you must be reasonable--who have I to advise with?'

'Not me, Stanley--keep your plots and your secrets to yourself. In the guilty path you have opened for me one step more I will never tread.'

'Excuse me, Radie, but you're talking like a fool.'

'I am not sorry you think so--you can't understand motives higher than your own.'

'You'll see that you must, though. You'll see it in a little while.

Self-preservation, dear Radie, is the first law of nature.'

'For yourself, Stanley; and for _me_, self-sacrifice,' she retorted, bitterly.

'Well, Radie, I may as well tell you one thing that I'm resolved to carry out,' said Lake, with a dreamy serenity, looking on the dark carpet.

'I'll hear no secret, Stanley.'

'It can't be long a secret, at least from you--you can't help knowing it,' he drawled gently. 'Do you recollect, Radie, what I said that morning when I first called here, and saw you?'

'Perhaps I do, but I don't know what you mean,' answered she.