CHAPTER XXVI.
CAPTAIN LAKE FOLLOWS TO LONDON.
Wylder's levanting in this way was singularly discon-
certing. The time was growing short. He wrote with a
stupid good-humor, and an insolent brevity which took no
account of Miss Brandon's position, or of her noble rela-
tives. Lord Chelford plainly thought more than he cared
to say; and his mother, who never minced matters, said
perhaps more than she quite thought.
"Lake has gone up to town this morning — some busi-
ness with his banker about his commission — and he says
he will make Wylder out on his arrival, and write to me,"
said Lord Chelford.
Old Lady Chelford glanced across her shoulder at Dor-
cas, who leaned back in a great chair by the window,
listlessly turning over a book.
"She's a strange girl, she does not seem to feel her
situation — a most painful and critical one. That low,
coarse creature must be looked up somehow."
So, in a quiet key, Miss Dorcas being at a distance,
though in the same room, the dowager and her son discuss-
ed this unpleasant and very nervous topic.
That evening Captain Lake was in London, comfortably
quartered in a private hotel, in one of the streets off Pic-
cadilly. He went to his club and dined better than he had
done for many days. He really enjoyed his three little
courses — his pint of claret, his cup of cafe noir and his
chasse; the great Babylon was his Jerusalem, and his
spirit found rest there.