WYLDER'S HAJVD.
99
"Yes, Stanley, I knew you were a coward," she re-
plied, fiercely and wildly.
"You're always calling names, d—you; do as you
like. I care less than you think how it goes."
"No, Stanley; you know me too well. Ah! No, you
shan't be lost if I can help it." Rachel shook her head
as she spoke, with a bitter smile and a dreadful sigh.
Then they whispered together for three or four minutes,
and Rachel clasped her jewelled fingers tight across her
forehead, quite wildly, for a minute.
"You'll come then?" said Stanley.
She made no answer, and he repeated the question.
By this time she was standing; and without answering,
she began mechanically to get on her cloak and hat.
"You must drink some wine first; he may frighten you,
perhaps. You must take it, Rachel, or I'll not go."
Rachel seemed to have made up her mind to submit
passively to whatever he required. Perhaps, indeed, she
thought there was wisdom in his advice. At all events she
drank some wine.
Rachel Lake was one of those women who never lose
their presence of mind, even under violent agitation, for
long, and who generally, even when highly excited, see,
and do instinctively, and with decision, what is best to be
done; and now, with dilated eyes and white face, she
walked noiselessly into the kitchen, listened there for a
moment, then stole lightly to the servants' sleeping-room,
and listened there at the door, and lastly looked in, and
satisfied herself that both were still sleeping. Then as
cautiously and swiftly she returned to her drawing-room,
and closed the window-shutters and drew the curtain, and
signalling to her brother they went stealthily forth into
the night air, closing the hall-door, and through the little
garden, at the outer gate of which they paused.