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CHAPTER LII
AN OLD FRIEND LOOKS
INTO THE GARDEN
AT REDMAN’S FARM
Lady Chelford, with one of those sudden changes of front which
occur in female strategy, on hearing that Stanley Lake was actually accepted by Dorcas, had assailed both him and his sister, whom
heretofore she had a good deal petted and distinguished, with a fury
that was startling. As respects Rachel, we know how unjust was the
attack.
And when the dowager opened her fi re on Rachel, the young
lady replied with a spirit and dignity to which she was not at all accustomed.
So soon as Dorcas obtained a hearing, which was not for sometime – for she, ‘as a miserable and ridiculous victim and idiot,’
was nearly as deep in disgrace as those ‘shameless harpies the
Lakes’ – she told the whole truth as respected all parties with her
superb and tranquil frankness.
Lady Chelford ordered her horses, and was about to leave Brandon next morning. But rheumatism arrested her indignant fl ight;
and during her week’s confi nement to her room, her son contrived
so that she consented to stay for ‘the odious ceremony,’ and was even
sourly civil to Miss Lake, who received her advances quite as coldly
as they were made.
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JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
To Miss Lake, Lord Chelford, though not in set terms, yet in
many pleasant ways, apologised for his mother’s impertinence. Dorcas had told him also the story of Rachel’s decided opposition to the
marriage.
He was so particularly respectful to her – he showed her by the
very form into which he shaped his good wishes that he knew how
frankly she had opposed the marriage – how true she had been to
her friend Dorcas – and she understood him and was grateful.
In fact, Lord Chelford, whatever might be his opinion of the
motives of Captain Lake and the prudence of Dorcas, was clearly
disposed to make the best of the inevitable, and to stamp the new
Brandon alliance with what ever respectability his frank recognition could give it.
Old Lady Chelford’s bitter and ominous acquiescence also
came, and the presence of mother and son at the solemnity averted
the family scandal which the old lady’s fi rst access of frenzy threatened.
This duty discharged, she insisted, in the interest of her rheumatism, upon change of air; and on arriving at Duxley, was quite
surprised to fi nd Lady Dulhampton and her daughters there upon
a similar quest.
About the matrimonial likelihoods of gentlemen with titles and
estates Fame, that most tuft-hunting of divinities, is always distending her cheeks, and blowing the very fi nest fl ourishes her old trumpet affords.
Lord Chelford was not long away when the story of Lady Constance was again alive and vocal. It reached old Jackson through his
sister, who was married to the brother of the Marquis of Dulhampton’s solicitor. It reached Lake from Tom Twitters, of his club, who
kept the Brandon Captain au courant of the town-talk; and it came
to Dorcas in a more authentic fashion, though mysteriously, and
382
WYLDER’S HAND
rather in the guise of a conundrum than of a distinct bit of family intelligence, from no less a person than the old Dowager Lady
Chelford herself.
Stanley Lake, who had begun to entertain hopes for Rachel in
that direction, went down to Redman’s Farm, and, after his bleak
and bitter fashion, rated the young lady for having perversely neglected her opportunities and repulsed that most desirable parti.
In this he was intensely in earnest, for the connection would have
done wonders for Captain Lake in the county.
Rachel met this coarse attack with quiet contempt; told him that
Lord Chelford had, she supposed, no idea of marrying out of his own
rank; and further, that he, Captain Lake, must perfectly comprehend, if he could not appreciate, the reasons which would for ever
bar any such relation.
But Rachel, though she treated the subject serenely in this interview, was sadder and more forlorn than ever, and lay awake at night,
and, perhaps, if we knew all, shed some secret tears; and then with
time came healing of these sorrows.
It was a fallacy, a mere chimera, that was gone; an impracticability too. She had smiled at it as such when Dorcas used to hint at it;
but are there no castles in the clouds which we like to inhabit, although we know them altogether air-built, and whose evaporation
desolates us?
Rachel’s talks with the vicar were frequent; and poor little Mrs.
William Wylder, who knew not the reason of his visits, fell slowly,
and to the good man’s entire bewilderment, into a chronic jealousy. It expressed itself enigmatically; it was circumlocutory, sad, and
mysterious.
‘Little Fairy was so pleased with his visit to Redman’s Farm today. He told me all about it; did not you, little man? But still you
love poor old mamma best of all; you would not like to have a new
383
JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
mamma. Ah, no; you’d rather have your poor old, ugly Mussie. I wish
I was handsome, my little man, and clever; but wishing is vain.’
‘Ah! Willie, there was a time when you could not see how ugly
and dull your poor foolish little wife was; but it could not last for
ever. How did it happen – oh, how? – you such a scholar, so clever,
so handsome, my beautiful Willie – how did you ever look down on
poor wretched me?’
‘I think it will be fi ne, Willie, and Miss Lake will expect you at
Redman’s Farm; and little Fairy will go too; yes, you’d like to go, and
mamma will stay at home, and try to be useful in her poor miserable
way,’ and so on.
The vicar, thinking of other things, never seeing the reproachful
irony in all this, would take it quite literally, assent sadly, and with
little Fairy by the hand, set forth for Redman’s Farm; and the good
little body, to the amazement of her two maids, would be heard passionately weeping in the parlour in her forsaken state.
At last there came a great upbraiding, a great éclaircissement,
and laughter, and crying, and hugging; and the poor little woman,
quite relieved, went off immediately, in her gratitude, to Rachel, and
paid her quite an affectionate little visit.
Jealousy is very unreasonable. But have we no compensation in
this, that the love which begets it is often as unreasonable? Look in
the glass, and then into your own heart, and ask your conscience,
next, ‘Am I really quite a hero, or altogether so lovely, as I am beloved?’ Keep the answer to yourself, but be tender with the vehement follies of your jealous wife. Poor mortals! It is but a short time
we have to love, and be jealous, and love again.
One night, after a long talk in the morning with good William
Wylder, and great dejection following, all on a sudden, Rachel sat
up in her bed, and in a pleasant voice, and looking more like herself
than she had for many months, she said –
384
WYLDER’S HAND
‘I think I have found the true way out of my troubles, Tamar. At
every sacrifi ce to be quite honest; and to that, Tamar, I have made
up my mind at last, thank God. Come, Tamar, and kiss me, for I am
free once more.’
So that night passed peacefully.
Rachel – a changed Rachel still – though more like her early
self, was now in the tiny garden of Redman’s Farm. The early spring
was already showing its bright green through the brown of winter, and sun and shower alternating, and the gay gossiping of sweet
birds among the branches, were calling the young creation from its
slumbers. The air was so sharp, so clear, so sunny, the mysterious
sense of coming life so invigorating, and the sounds and aspect of
nature so rejoicing, that Rachel with her gauntlets on, her white
basket of fl ower seeds, her trowel, and all her garden implements
beside her, felt her own spring of life return, and rejoiced in the glad
hour that shone round her.
Lifting up her eyes, she saw Lord Chelford looking over the little
gate.
‘What a charming day,’ said he, with his pleasant smile, raising
his hat, ‘and how very pleasant to see you at your pretty industry
again.’
As Rachel came forward in her faded gardening costume, an
old silk shawl about her shoulders, and hoodwise over her head,
somehow very becoming, there was a blush – he could not help
seeing it – on her young face, and for a moment her fi ne eyes
dropped, and she looked up, smiling a more thoughtful and a sadder smile than in old days. The picture of that smile so gay and
fearless, and yet so feminine, rose up beside the sadder smile that
greeted him now, and he thought of Ondine without and Ondine
with a soul.
385
JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘I am afraid I am a very impertinent – at least a very inquisitive – wayfarer; but I could not pass by without a word, even at the
risk of interrupting you. And the truth is, I believe, if it had not been
for that chance of seeing and interrupting you, I should not have
passed through Redman’s Dell to-day.’
He laughed a little as he said this; and held her hands some seconds longer than is strictly usual in such a greeting.
‘You are staying at Brandon?’ said Rachel, not knowing exactly
what to say.
‘Yes; Dorcas, who is always very good to me, made me promise to
come whenever I was at Drackley. I arrived yesterday, and they tell
me you stay so much at home, that possibly you might not appear in
the upper world for two or three days; so I had not patience, you see.’
It was now Rachel’s turn to laugh a musical little roulade; but
somehow her talk was neither so gay, nor so voluble, as it used to be.
She liked to listen; she would not for the world their little conversation ended before its time; but there was an unwonted diffi culty in
fi nding anything to say.
‘It is quite true; I am more a stay-at-home than I used to be. I believe we learn to prize home more the longer we live.’
‘What a wise old lady! I did not think of that; I have only learned
that whatever is most prized is hardest to fi nd.’
‘And spring is come again,’ continued Rachel, passing by this
little speech, ‘and my labours recommence. And though the day is
longer, there is more to do in it, you see.’
‘I don’t wonder at your being a stay-at-home, for, to my eyes, it
is the prettiest spot of earth in all the world; and if you fi nd it half
as hard to leave it as I do, your staying here is quite accounted for.’
This little speech, also, Rachel understood quite well, though
she went on as if she did not.
386
WYLDER’S HAND
‘And this little garden costs, I assure you, a great deal of wise
thought. In sowing my annuals I have so much to forecast and arrange; suitability of climate, for we have sun and shade here, succession of bloom and contrast of colour, and ever so many other
important things.’
‘I can quite imagine it, though it did not strike me before,’ he
said, looking on her with a smile of pleasant and peculiar interest, which somehow gave a reality to this playful talk. ‘It is quite
true; and I should not have thought of it – it is very pretty,’ and he
laughed a gentle little laugh, glancing over the tiny garden.
‘But, after all, there is no picture of fl owers, or still life, or even
of landscape, that will interest long. You must be very solitary here
at times – that is, you must have a great deal more resource than
I, or, indeed, almost anyone I know, or this solitude must at times
be oppressive. I hope so, at least, for that would force you to appear
among us sometimes.’
‘No, I am not lonely – that is, not lonelier than is good for me.
I have such a treasure of an old nurse – poor old Tamar – who tells
me stories, and reads to me, and listens to my follies and temper, and
sometimes says very wise things, too; and the good vicar comes often – this is one of his days – with his beautiful little boy, and talks
so well, and answers my follies and explains all my perplexities, and
is really a great help and comfort.’
‘Yes,’ said Lord Chelford, with the same pleasant smile, ‘he told
me so; and seems so pleased to have met with so clever a pupil. Are
you coming to Brandon this evening? Lake asked William Wylder,
perhaps he will be with us. I do hope you will come. Dorcas says
there is no use in writing; but that you know you are always welcome. May I say you’ll come?’
Rachel smiled sadly on the snow-drops at her feet, and shook
her head a little.
387
JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘No, I must stay at home this evening – I mean I have not spirits
to go to Brandon. Thank Dorcas very much from me – that is, if you
really mean that she asked me.’
‘I am so sorry – I am so disappointed,’ said Lord Chelford, looking gravely and enquiringly at her. He began, I think, to fancy some
estrangement there. ‘But perhaps to-morrow – perhaps even today – you may relent, you know. Don’t say it is impossible.’
Rachel smiled on the ground, as before; and then, with a little
sigh and a shake of her head, said –
‘No.’
‘Well, I must tell Dorcas she was right – you are very inexorable
and cruel.’
‘I am very cruel to keep you here so long – and I, too, am forgetting the vicar, who will be here immediately, and I must meet him
in a costume less like the Woman of Endor.’
Lord Chelford, leaning on the little wicket, put his arm over, and
she gave him her hand again.
‘Good-bye,’ said Rachel.
‘Well, I suppose I, too, must say good-bye; and I’ll say a great deal
more,’ said he, in a peculiar, odd tone, that was very fi rm, and yet
indescribably tender. And he held her slender hand, from which
she had drawn the gauntlet, in his. ‘Yes, Rachel, I will – I’ll say everything. We are old friends now – you’ll forgive me calling you
Rachel – it may be perhaps the last time.’
Rachel was standing there with such a beautiful blush, and
downcast eyes, and her hand in his.
‘I liked you always, Rachel, from the fi rst moment I saw
you – I liked you better and better – indescribably – indeed, I do;
and I’ve grown to like you so, that if I lose you, I think I shall never
be the same again.’
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WYLDER’S HAND
There was a very little pause, the blush was deeper, her eyes
lower still.
‘I admire you, Rachel – I like your character – I have grown to
love you with all my heart and mind – quite desperately, I think.
I know there are things against me – there are better-looking fellows than I – and – and a great many things – and I know very well
that you will judge for yourself – quite differently from other girls;
and I can’t say with what fear and hope I await what you may say;
but this you may be sure of, you will never fi nd anyone to love you
better, Rachel – I think so well – and – and now – that is all. Do
you think you could ever like me?’
But Rachel’s hand, on a sudden, with a slight quiver, was drawn
from his.
‘Lord Chelford, I can’t describe how grateful I am, and how astonished, but it could never be – no – never.’
‘Rachel, perhaps you mean my mother – I have told her everything – she will receive you with all the respect you so well deserve;
and with all her faults, she loves me, and will love you still more.’
‘No, Lord Chelford, no.’ She was pale now, and looking very
sadly in his eyes. ‘It is not that, but only that you must never, never
speak of it again.’
‘Oh! Rachel, darling, you must not say that – I love you
so – so desperately, you don’t know.’
‘I can say nothing else, Lord Chelford. My mind is quite made
up – I am inexpressibly grateful – you will never know how
grateful – but except as a friend – and won’t you still be my
friend? – I never can regard you.’
Rachel was so pale that her very lips were white as she spoke this
in a melancholy but very fi rm way.
‘Oh, Rachel, it is a great blow – maybe if you thought it over! – I’ll
wait any time.’
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JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘No, Lord Chelford, I’m quite unworthy of your preference; but
time cannot change me – and I am speaking, not from impulse, but
conviction. This is our secret – yours and mine – and we’ll forget
it; and I could not bear to lose your friendship – you’ll be my friend
still – won’t you? Good-bye.’
‘God bless you, Rachel!’ And he hurriedly kissed the hand she
had placed in his, and without a word more, or looking back, he
walked swiftly down the wooded road towards Gylingden.
So, then, it had come and gone – gone for ever.
‘Margery, bring the basket in; I think a shower is coming.’
And she picked up her trowel and other implements, and placed
them in the porch, and glanced up towards the clouds, as if she
saw them, and had nothing to think of but her gardening and the
weather, and as if her heart was not breaking.
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