Captain Lake Takes an Evening Stroll About Gylingden.

Again I had serious thoughts of removing my person and effects to the Brandon Arms. I could not quite believe I had seen a ghost; but neither was I quite satisfied that the thing was altogether canny. The apparition, whatever it was, seemed to persecute me with a mysterious obstinacy; at all events, I was falling into a habit of seeing it; and I felt a natural desire to escape from the house which was plagued with its presence.

At the same time I had an odd sort of reluctance to mention the subject to my entertainers. The thing itself was a ghostly slur upon the house, and, to run away, a reproach to my manhood; and besides, writing now at a distance, and in the spirit of history, I suspect the interest which beauty always excites had a great deal to do with my resolve to hold my ground; and, I dare say, notwithstanding my other reasons, had the ladies at the Hall been all either old or ugly, I would have made good my retreat to the village hotel.

As it was, however, I was resolved to maintain my position. But that evening was streaked with a tinge of horror, and I more silent and distrait than usual.

The absence of an accustomed face, even though the owner be nothing very remarkable, is always felt; and Wylder was missed, though, sooth to say, not very much regretted. For the first time we were really a small party. Miss Lake was not there. The gallant captain, her brother, was also absent. The vicar, and his good little wife, were at Naunton that evening to hear a missionary recount his adventures and experiences in Japan, and none of the neighbours had been called in to fill the empty chairs.

Dorcas Brandon did not contribute much to the talk; neither, in truth, did I. Old Lady Chelford occasionally dozed and nodded sternly after tea, waking up and eyeing people grimly, as though enquiring whether anyone presumed to suspect her ladyship of having had a nap.

Chelford, I recollect, took a book, and read to us now and then, a snatch of poetry — I forget what. My book — except when I was thinking of the tarn and that old man I so hated — was Miss Brandon’s exquisite and mysterious face.

That young lady was leaning back in her great oak chair, in which she looked like the heroine of some sad and gorgeous romance of the old civil wars of England, and directing a gaze of contemplative and haughty curiosity upon the old lady, who was unconscious of the daring profanation.

All on a sudden Dorcas Brandon said —

‘And pray what do you think of marriage, Lady Chelford?’

‘What do I think of marriage?’ repeated the dowager, throwing back her head and eyeing the beautiful heiress through her gold spectacles, with a stony surprise, for she was not accustomed to be catechised by young people. ‘Marriage? — why ’tis a divine institution. What can the child mean?’

‘Do you think, Lady Chelford, it may be safely contracted, solely to join two estates?’ pursued the young lady.

‘Do I think it may safely be contracted, solely to join two estates?’ repeated the old lady, with a look and carriage that plainly showed how entirely she appreciated the amazing presumption of her interrogatrix.

There was a little pause.

‘Certainly,’ replied Lady Chelford; ‘that is, of course, under proper conditions, and with a due sense of its sacred character and a — a — obligations.’

‘The first of which is love,’ continued Miss Brandon; ‘the second honour — both involuntary; and the third obedience, which springs from them.’

Old Lady Chelford coughed, and then rallying, said —

‘Very good, Miss!’

‘And pray, Lady Chelford, what do you think of Mr. Mark Wylder?’ pursued Miss Dorcas.

‘I don’t see, Miss Brandon, that my thoughts upon that subject can concern anyone but myself,’ retorted the old lady, severely, and from an awful altitude. ‘And I may say, considering who I am — and my years — and the manner in which I am usually treated, I am a little surprised at the tone in which you are pleased to question me.’

These last terrible remarks totally failed to overawe the serene temerity of the grave beauty.

‘I assumed, Lady Chelford, as you had interested yourself in me so far as to originate the idea of my engagement to Mr. Wylder, that you had considered these to me very important questions a little, and could give me satisfactory answers upon points on which my mind has been employed for some days; and, indeed, I think I’ve a right to ask that assistance of you.’

‘You seem to forget, young lady, that there are times and places for such discussions; and that to Mr. — a — a — your visitor (a glance at me), it can’t be very interesting to listen to this kind of — of — conversation, which is neither very entertaining, nor very wise.’

‘I am answerable only for my part of it; and I think my questions very much to the purpose,’ said the young lady, in her low, silvery tones.

‘I don’t question your good opinion, Miss Brandon, of your own discretion; but I can’t see any profit in now discussing an engagement of more than two months’ standing, or a marriage, which is fixed to take place only ten days hence. And I think, Sir (glancing again at me), it must strike you a little oddly, that I should be invited, in your presence, to discuss family matters with Miss Dorcas Brandon?’

Now, was it fair to call a peaceable inhabitant like me into the thick of a fray like this? I paused long enough to allow Miss Brandon to speak, but she did not choose to do so, thinking, I suppose, it was my business.

‘I believe I ought to have withdrawn a little,’ I said, very humbly; and old Lady Chelford at the word shot a gleam of contemptuous triumph at Miss Dorcas; but I would not acquiesce in the dowager’s abusing my concession to the prejudice of that beautiful and daring young lady —‘I mean, Lady Chelford, in deference to you, who are not aware, as Miss Brandon is, that I am one of Mr. Wylder’s oldest and most intimate friends; and at his request, and with Lord Chelford’s approval, have been advised with, in detail, upon all the arrangements connected with the approaching marriage.’

‘I am not going, at present, to say any more upon these subjects, because Lady Chelford prefers deferring our conversation,’ said this very odd young lady; ‘but there is nothing which either she or I may say, which I wish to conceal from any friend of Mr. Wylder’s.’

The idea of Miss Brandon’s seriously thinking of withdrawing from her engagement with Mark Wylder, I confess never entered my mind. Lady Chelford, perhaps, knew more of the capricious and daring character of the ladies of the Brandon line than I, and may have discovered some signs of a coming storm in the oracular questions which had fallen so harmoniously from those beautiful lips. As for me, I was puzzled. The old viscountess was flushed (she did not rouge), and very angry, and, I think, uncomfortable, though she affected her usual supremacy. But the young lady showed no sign of excitement, and lay back in her chair in her usual deep, cold calm.

Lake’s late smoking with Wylder must have disagreed with him very much indeed, for he seemed more out of sorts as night approached. He stole away from Mr. Larkin’s trellised porch, in the dusk. He marched into the town rather quickly, like a man who has business on his hands; but he had none — for he walked by the ‘Brandon Arms,’ and halted, and stared at the post-office, as if he fancied he had something to say there. But no — there was no need to tap at the wooden window............