'Oh? Stanley, you must speak truth; I am your wife. Do they know anything very bad—are you in their power?'
'Why, my dearest, what on earth could put such a wild fancy in your head?' said Lake, with a strange laugh, and, as she fancied, growing still paler. 'Do you suppose I am a highwayman in disguise, or a murderer, like—what's his name—Eugene Aram? I must have expressed myself very ill, if I suggested anything so tragical. I protest before Heaven, my darling, there is not one word or act of mine I need fear to submit to any court of justice or of honour on earth.'
He took her hand, and kissed it affectionately, and still fondling it gently between his, he resumed—
'I don't mean to say, of course, that I have always been better than other young fellows; I've been foolish, and wild, and—and—I've done wrong things, occasionally—as all young men will; but for high crimes and misdemeanors, or for melodramatic situations, I never had the slightest taste. There's no man on earth who can tell anything of me, or put me under any sort of pressure, thank Heaven; and simply because I have never in the course of my life done a single act unworthy of a gentleman, or in the most trifling way compromised myself. I swear it, my darling, upon my honour and soul, and I will swear it in any terms—the most awful that can be prescribed—in order totally and for ever to remove from your mind so amazing a fancy.'
And with a little laugh, and still holding her hand, he passed his arm round her waist, and kissed her affectionately.
'But you are perfectly right, Dorkie, in supposing that I am under very considerable apprehension from their machinations. Though they cannot slur our fair fame, it is quite possible they may very seriously affect our property. Mr. Larkin is in possession of all the family papers. I don't like it, but it is too late now. The estates have been back and forward so often between the Brandons and Wylders, I always fancy there may be a screw loose, or a frangible link somewhere, and he's deeply interested for Mark Wylder.'
'You are better, darling; I think you are better,' he said, looking in her face, after a little pause.
'Yes, dear Stanley, much better; but why should you suppose any plot against our title?'
'Mark Wylder is in constant correspondence with that fellow Larkin. I wish we were quietly rid of him, he is such an unscrupulous dog. I assure you, I doubt very much if the deeds are safe in his possession; at all events, he ought to choose between us and Mark Wylder. It is monstrous his being solicitor for both. The Wylders and Brandons have always been contesting the right to these estates, and the same thing may arise again any day.'
'But tell me, Stanley, how do you want to apply money? What particular good can it do us in this unpleasant uncertainty?'