Notwithstanding all which he was somehow unlovely
in my eyes, and in an indistinct way, formidable.
It was not a pleasant misgiving about a gentleman
of Larkin’s species, the family lawyer, who become
viscera magnorum domuum.
My duties were lighter, as adviser, than I at first
apprehended. Wylder’s crotchets were chiefly
‘mare’s nests.’ We had read
the draft of the settlement, preparatory to its being
sent to senior counsel to be approved. Wylder’s
attorney had done his devoir, and Mr. Larkin avowed
a sort of parental interest in both parties to the
indentures, and made, at closing, a little speech,
very high in morality, and flavoured in a manly way
with religion, and congratulated Mark on his honour
and plain dealing, which he gave us to understand
were the secrets of all success in life, as they had
been, in an humble way of his own.
IN WHICH DORCAS BRANDON SPEAKS.
In answer to ‘the roaring shiver of the gong’
we all trooped away together to luncheon. Lady
Chelford and Dorcas and Chelford had nearly ended
that irregular repast when we entered. My chair
was beside Miss Brandon; she had breakfasted with
old Lady Chelford that morning, and this was my first
meeting that day. It was not very encouraging.
People complained that acquaintance made little way
with her. That you were, perhaps, well satisfied
with your first day’s progress, but the next
made no head-way; you found yourself this morning exactly
at the point from which you commenced yesterday, and
to-morrow would recommence where you started the day
before. This is very disappointing, but may sometimes
be accounted for by there being nothing really to discover.
It seemed to me, however, that the distance had positively
increased since yesterday, and that the oftener she
met me the more strange she became. As we went
out, Wylder enquired, with his usual good taste:
’Well, what do you think of her?’ Then
he looked slily at me, laughing, with his hands in
his pockets. ‘A little bit slow, eh?’
he whispered, and laughed again, and lounged into
the hall. If Dorcas Brandon had been a plain
woman, I think she would have been voted an impertinent
bore; but she was so beautiful that she became an
enigma. I looked at her as she stood gravely
gazing from the window. Is it Lady Macbeth?
No; she never would have had energy to plan her husband’s
career and manage that affair of Duncan. A sultana
rather—sublimely egotistical, without reverence—a
voluptuous and haughty embodiment of indifference.
I paused, looking at a picture, but thinking of her,
and was surprised by her voice very near me.
’Will you give me just a minute, Mr. De Cresseron,
in the drawing-room, while I show you a miniature?
I want your opinion.’
So she floated on and I accompanied her.
‘I think,’ she said, ’you mentioned
yesterday, that you remembered me when an infant.
You remember my poor mamma, don’t you, very well?’
