'And listen,' she continued, 'you must go into my room, and bring the message back, as if from me, with my love to Miss Brandon; and if she or Mrs. William Wylder, the vicar's wife, should call to see me, always say I'm asleep and a little better. You see exactly what I mean?'
'Yes, Miss,' answered Tamar, whose eyes were fixed in a sort of fascination, full on those of her mistress.
'If Master Stanley should call, he is to do just as he pleases. You used to be accurate, Tamar; may I depend upon you?'
'Yes, Ma'am, certainly.'
'If I thought you'd fail me now, Tamar, I should never come back.
Good-night, Tamar. There—don't bless me. Good-night.'
When the light wheels of the dog-cart gritted on the mill-road before the little garden gate of Redman's Farm, the tall slender figure of Rachel Lake was dimly visible, standing cloaked and waiting by it. Silently she handed her little black leather bag to her brother, and then there was a pause. He stretched his hand to help her up.
In a tone that was icy and bitter, she said—
'To save myself I would not do it. You deserve no love from me—you've showed me none—never, Stanley; and yet I'm going to give the most desperate proof of love that ever sister gave—all for your sake; and it's guilt, guilt, but my fate, and I'll go, and you'll never thank me; that's all.'
In a moment more she sat beside him; and silent as the dead in Charon's boat, away they glided toward the 'White House which lay upon the high road to Dollington.
The sleepy clerk that night in the Dollington station stamped two first-class tickets for London, one of which was for a gentleman, and the other for a cloaked lady, with a very thick veil, who stood outside on the platform; and almost immediately after the scream of the engine was heard piercing the deep tatting, the Cyclopean red lamps glared nearer and nearer, and the palpitating monster, so stupendous and so docile, came smoothly to a stand-still before the trelliswork and hollyhocks of that pretty station.