WYLDER'S HJIJVD.
233
»" None in the world. It was that odious Sir Harry
Bracton — was not it?"
"Why so odious, Rachel? How can you tell which
was in the wrong? I only know he seems to be a better
marksman than your poor brother."
Rachel looked at her with something of haughty and
surprised displeasure, but said nothing.
"You look at me, Radie, as if I were a monster — or
monstress, I should say — whereas I am only a Brandon.
Don't you remember how our great ancestor, who fought
for the House of York, changed suddenly to Lancaster,
and how Sir Richard left the King and took part with
Cromwell, not for any particular advantage, I believe, or
for any particular reason even, but for wickedness and
wounded pride, perhaps."
"I don't quite see your meaning, Dorcas. I can't un-
derstand how your pride has been hurt; but if Stanley
had any, I can well imagine what torture it must have en-
dured; wretched, wicked, punished fool!"
"You suspect what they fought about, Radie?"
Rachel made no answer.
"You do, Radie, and why do you dissemble with me?"
"I don't dissemble; I don't care to speak; but if you
will have me say so, I do suspect — I think it must have
originated in jealousy of you."
"You look, Radie, as if you thought I had managed it
— whereas I really did not care."
"I do not understand you, Dorcas: but you appear to
me very cruel, and you smile, as I say so."
"I smile, because I sometimes think so myself."
With a fixed and wrathful stare Rachel returned the
enigmatical gaze of her beautiful cousin.
"If Stanley dies, Dorcas, Sir Harry Bracton shall
hear of it. I'll lose my life, but he shall pay the forfeit
of his crime."