IN THE DUTCH ROOM.
His heart misgave him. He felt that a crisis was coming; and he read—
'I cannot tell you, my poor brother, how miserable I am. I have just
learned that a very dangerous person has discovered more about that
dreadful evening than we believed known to anybody in Gylingden. I am
subjected to the most agonising suspicions and insults. Would to Heaven
I were dead! But living, I cannot endure my present state of mind longer. To-morrow morning I will see Dorcas—poor Dorcas!—and tell her all. I am weary of urging you, in vain, to do so. It would have been much better. But although, after that interview, I shall, perhaps, never see her more, I shall yet be happier, and, I think, relieved from suspense, and the torments of mystery. So will she. At all events, it is her right to know all—and she shall.
'YOUR OUTCAST AND MISERABLE SISTER.'
On Stanley's lips his serene, unpleasant smile was gleaming, as he closed
the note carelessly. He intended to speak, but his voice caught. He
cleared it, and sipped a little claret.
'For a clever girl she certainly does write the most wonderful rubbish. Such an effusion! And she sends it tossing about, from hand to hand, among the servants. I've anticipated her, however, Dorkie.' And he took her hand and kissed it. 'She does not know I've told you all myself.'
Stanley went to the library, and Dorcas to the conservatory, neither very
happy, each haunted by an evil augury, and a sense of coming danger. The
deepening shadow warned Dorcas that it was time to repair to the Dutch
room, where she found lights and tea prepared.
In a few minutes more the library door opened and Stanley Lake peeped in.
'Radie not come yet?' said he entering. 'We certainly are much pleasanter
in this room, Dorkie, more, in proportion, than we two should have been
in the drawing-room.'
He seated himself beside her, drawing his chair very close to hers, and
taking her hand in his. He was more affectionate this evening than usual. What did it portend? she thought. She had already begun to acquiesce in Rachel's estimate of Stanley, and to fancy that whatever he did it was with an unacknowledged purpose.
'Does little Dorkie love me?' said Lake, in a sweet undertone.
There was reproach, but love too, in the deep soft glance she threw upon
him.
'You must promise me not to be frightened at what I am going to tell
you,' said Lake.
She heard him with sudden panic, and a sense of cold stole over her. He
looked like a ghost—quite white—smiling. She knew something was
coming—the secret she had invoked so long—and she was appalled.
'Don't be frightened, darling. It is necessary to tell you; but it is
really not much when you hear me out. You'll say so when you have quite
heard me. So you won't be frightened?'
She was gazing straight into his wild yellow eyes, fascinated, with a
look of expecting terror.
'You are nervous, darling,' he continued, laying his hand on hers. 'Shall
we put it off for a little? You are frightened.'
'Not much frightened, Stanley,' she whispered.
'Well, we had better wait. I see, Dorcas, you are frightened and
nervous. Don't keep looking at me; look at something else, can't you? You
make yourself nervous that way. I promise, upon my honour, I'll not say a
word about it till you bid me.'
'I know, Stanley—I know.'
'Then, why won't you look down, or look up, or look any way you please, only don't stare at me so.'
'Yes—oh, yes,' and she shut her eyes.
'I'm sorry I began,' he said, pettishly. 'You'll make a fuss. You've made
yourself quite nervous; and I'll wait a little.'
'Oh! no, Stanley, now—for Heaven's sake, now. I was only a little
startled; but I am quite well again. Is it anything about marriage? Oh, Stanley, in mercy, tell me was there any other engagement?'
'Nothing, darling—nothing on earth of the sort;' and he spoke with an
icy little laugh. 'Your poor soldier is altogether yours, Dorkie,' and he
kissed her cheek.
'Thank God for that!' said Dorcas, hardly above her breath.