'Not poor William Wylder?'

'No, dear. I don't suppose he cares more for a clergyman than for any other man; none of his family ever did, when they came to lie on a bed of sickness, or of death either.'

'No, no,' said Rachel, wildly; 'I did not mean to pray. I was not thinking of that; but William Wylder was different; and he did not mention _me_ either?'

Dorcas shook her head.

'I knew it,' continued Rachel, with a kind of shudder. 'And tell me, Dorcas, does he know that he is in danger--such imminent danger?'

'That I cannot say, Rachel, dear. I don't believe doctors like to tell their patients so.'

There was a silence of some minutes, and Rachel, clasping her hands in an agony, said--

'Oh, yes--he's gone--he's certainly gone; and I remain alone under that dreadful burden.'

'Please, Miss Brandon, the doctor's down stairs with Captain Lake,' said the maid, opening the door.

'Is Lord Chelford with him?'

'Yes, Miss, please.'

'Then tell him I will be so obliged if he will come here for a moment, when the doctor is gone; and ask the doctor now, from me, how he thinks Captain Lake.'

In a little while the maid returned. Captain Lake was not so low, and rather better than this morning, the doctor said; and Rachel raised her eyes, and whispered an agitated thanksgiving. 'Was Lord Chelford coming?'

'His lordship had left the room when she returned, and Mr. Larcom said he was with Lawyer Larkin in the library.'

'Mr. Larkin can wait. Tell Lord Chelford I wish very much to see him here.'

So away went the maid again. A message in that great house was a journey; and there was a little s.p.a.ce before they heard a knock at the door of Dorcas's pretty room, and Lord Chelford, duly invited, came in.

Lord Chelford was surprised to see Rachel, and held her hand, while he congratulated her on the more favourable opinion of the physician this afternoon; and then he gave them, as fully and exactly as he could, all the lights emitted by Dr. Buddle, and endeavoured to give his narrative as cheerful and confident an air as he could. Then, at length, he recollected that Mr. Larkin was waiting in the study.

'I quite forgot Mr. Larkin,' said he; 'I left him in the library, and I am so very glad we have had a pleasanter report upon poor Lake this evening; and I am sure we shall all feel more comfortable on seeing Sir Francis Seddley. He _is_ such an admirable surgeon; and I feel sure he'll strike out something for our poor patient. I've known him hit upon such original expedients, and make such wonderful successes.'

So with a kind smile he left the room.

Then there was a long pause.

'Does he really think that Stanley will recover?' said Rachel.

'I don't know; I suppose he hopes it. I don't know, Rachel, what to think of anyone or anything. What wild beasts they are. How "swift to shed blood," as poor William Wylder said last Sunday. Have you any idea what they quarrelled about?'

'None in the world. It was that odious Sir Harry Bracton--was not it?'

'Why so odious, Rachel? How can you tell which was in the wrong? I only know he seems to be a better marksman than your poor brother.'

Rachel looked at her with something of haughty and surprised displeasure, but said nothing.

'You look at me, Radie, as if I were a monster--or _monstress_, I should say--whereas I am only a Brandon. Don't you remember how our great ancestor, who fought for the House of York, changed suddenly to Lancaster, and how Sir Richard left the King and took part with Cromwell, not for any particular advantage, I believe, or for any particular reason even, but for wickedness and wounded pride, perhaps.'

'I don't quite see your meaning, Dorcas. I can't understand how _your_ pride has been hurt; but if Stanley had any, I can well imagine what torture it must have endured; wretched, wicked, punished fool!'

'You suspect what they fought about, Radie!'

Rachel made no answer.

'You do, Radie, and why do you dissemble with me?'

'I don't dissemble; I don't care to speak; but if you will have me say so, I _do_ suspect--I think it must have originated in jealousy of you.'

'You look, Radie, as if you thought I had managed it--whereas I really did not care.'

'I do not understand you, Dorcas; but you appear to me very cruel, and you smile, as I say so.'

'I smile, because I sometimes think so myself.'

With a fixed and wrathful stare Rachel returned the enigmatical gaze of her beautiful cousin.

'If Stanley dies, Dorcas, Sir Harry Bracton shall hear of it. I'll lose my life, but he shall pay the forfeit of his crime.'

So saying, Rachel left the room, and gliding through pa.s.sages, and down stairs, she knocked at Stanley's door. The old woman opened it.

'Ah, Dorothy! I'm so glad to see _you_ here!' and she put a present in her hard, crumpled hand.

So, noiselessly, Rachel Lake, without more parley, stepped into the room, and closed the door. She was alone with Stanley With a beating heart, and a kind of chill stealing over her, by her brother's bed.

The room was not so dark that she could not see distinctly enough.

There lay her brother, such as he was--still her brother, on the bleak, neutral ground between life and death. His features, peaked and earthy, and that look, so new and peculiar, which does not savour of life upon them. He did not move, but his strange eyes gazed cold and earnest from their deep sockets upon her face in awful silence. Perhaps he thought he saw a phantom.

'Are you better, dear?' whispered Rachel.

His lips stirred and his throat, but he did not speak until a second effort brought utterance, and he murmured,

'Is that you, Radie?'

'Yes, dear. Are you better?'

'_No_. I'm shot. I shall die to-night. Is it night yet?'

'Don't despair, Stanley, dear. The great London doctor, Sir Francis Seddley, will be with you early in the morning, and Chelford has great confidence in him. I'm sure he will relieve you.'

'This is Brandon?' murmured Lake.

'Yes, dear.'

She thought he was going to say more, but he remained silent, and she recollected that he ought not to speak, and also that she had that to say which must be said.