In which Lake Under the Trees of Brandon, and I in My Chamber, Smoke Our Nocturnal Cigars.

Miss Lake declined the carriage to-night. Her brother was to see her home, and there was a leave-taking, and the young ladies whispered a word or two, and kissed, after the manner of their kind. To Captain Lake, Miss Brandon’s adieux were as cold and haughty as her greeting.

‘Did you see that?’ said Wylder in my ear, with a chuckle; and, wagging his head, he added, rather loftily for him, ‘Miss Brandon, I reckon, has taken your measure, Master Stanley, as well as I. I wonder what the deuce the old dowager sees in him. Old women always like rascals.’

And he added something still less complimentary.

I suppose the balance of attraction and repulsion was overcome by Miss Lake, much as he disliked Stanley, for Wylder followed them out with Lord Chelford, to help the young lady into her cloak and goloshes, and I found myself near Miss Brandon for the first time that evening, and much to my surprise she was first to speak, and that rather strangely.

‘You seem to be very sensible, Mr. De Cresseron; pray tell me, frankly, what do you think of all this?’

‘I am not quite sure, Miss Brandon, that I understand your question,’ I replied, enquiringly.

‘I mean of the — the family arrangements, in which, as Mr. Wylder’s friend, you seem to take an interest?’ she said.

‘There can hardly be a second opinion, Miss Brandon; I think it a very wise measure,’ I replied, much surprised.

‘Very wise — exactly. But don’t these very wise things sometimes turn out very foolishly? Do you really think your friend, Mr. Wylder, cares about me?’

‘I take that for granted: in the nature of things it can hardly be otherwise,’ I replied, a good deal startled and perplexed by the curious audacity of her interrogatory.

‘It was very foolish of me to expect from Mr. Wylder’s friend any other answer; you are very loyal, Mr. De Cresseron.’

And without awaiting my reply she made some remark which I forget to Lady Chelford, who sat at a little distance; and, appearing quite absorbed in her new subject, she placed herself close beside the dowager, and continued to chat in a low tone.

I was vexed with myself for having managed with so little skill a conversation which, opened so oddly and frankly, might have placed me on relations so nearly confidential, with that singular and beautiful girl. I ought to have rejoiced — but we don’t always see what most concerns our peace. In the meantime I had formed a new idea of her. She was so unreserved, it seemed, and yet in this directness there was something almost contemptuous.

By this time Lord Chelford and Wylder returned; and, disgusted rather with myself, I ruminated on my want of general-ship.

In the meantime, Miss Lake, with her hand on her brother’s arm, was walking swiftly under the trees of the back avenue towards that footpath which, through wild copse and broken clumps near the park, emerges upon the still darker road which passes along the wooded glen by the mills, and skirts the little paling of the recluse lady’s garden.

They had not walked far, when Lake suddenly said —

‘What do you think of all this, Radie — this particular version, I mean, of marriage, à-la-mode, they are preparing up there?’ and he made a little dip of his cane towards Brandon Hall, over his shoulder. ‘I really don’t think Wylder cares twopence about her, or she about him,’ and Stanley Lake laughed gently and sleepily.

‘I don’t think they pretend to like one another. It is quite understood. It was all, you know, old Lady Chelford’s arrangement: and Dorcas is so supine, I believe she would allow herself to be given away by anyone, and to anyone, rather than be at the least trouble. She provokes me.’

‘But I thought she liked Sir Harry Bracton: he’s a good-looking fellow; and Queen’s Bracton is a very nice thing, you know.’

‘Yes, so they said; but that would, I think, have been worse. Something may be made of Mark Wylder. He has some sense and caution, has not he? — but Sir Harry is wickedness itself!’

‘Why — what has Sir Harry done? That is the way you women run away with things! If a fellow’s been a little bit wild, he’s Beelzebub at once. Bracton’s a very good fellow, I can assure you.’

The fact is, Captain Lake, an accomplished player, made a pretty little revenue of Sir Harry’s billiards, which were wild and noisy; and liking his money, thought he liked himself — a confusion not uncommon.

‘I don’t know, and can’t say, how you fine gentlemen define wickedness: only, as an obscure female, I speak according to my lights: and he is generally thought the wickedest man in this county.’

‘Well, you know, Radie, women like wicked fellows: it is contrast, I suppose, but they do; and I’m sure, from what Bracton has said to me — I know him intimately — that Dorcas likes him, and I can’t conceive why they are not married.’

‘It is very happy, for her at least, they are not,’ said Rachel, and a long silence ensued.

Their walk continued silent for the greater part, neither was quite satisfied with the other. But Rachel at last said —

‘Stanley, you meditate some injury to Mark Wylder.’

‘I, Radie?’ he answered quietly, ‘why on earth should you think so?’

‘I saw you twice watch him when you thought no one observed you — and I know your ............