106
WYLDER'S HAJVD.
"Yes, miss," answered Tamar, whose eyes were fixed,
with 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 nev-
er 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. lie 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 Dolling-
ton.
The sleepy clerk that night in the Dollington station
stamped two first-class tickets for London, one of which
was for a gentleman, the other for a cloaked lady, with a
very thick veil, who stood outside on the platform.