Chapter XVIII. Lady Dedlock

by Charles Dickens

　　It was not so easy as it had appeared at first to arrange forRichard's making a trial of Mr. Kenge's office. Richard himselfwas the chief impediment. As soon as he had it in his power toleave Mr. Badger at any moment, he began to doubt whether he wantedto leave him at all. He didn't know, he said, really. It wasn't abad profession; he couldn't assert that he disliked it; perhaps heliked it as well as he liked any other--suppose he gave it one morechance! Upon that, he shut himself up for a few weeks with somebooks and some bones and seemed to acquire a considerable fund ofinformation with great rapidity. His fervour, after lasting abouta month, began to cool, and when it was quite cooled, began to growwarm again. His vacillations between law and medicine lasted solong that midsummer arrived before he finally separated from Mr.Badger and entered on an experimental course of Messrs. Kenge andCarboy. For all his waywardness, he took great credit to himselfas being determined to be in earnest "this time." And he was sogood-natured throughout, and in such high spirits, and so fond ofAda, that it was very difficult indeed to be otherwise than pleasedwith him."As to Mr. Jarndyce," who, I may mention, found the wind muchgiven, during this period, to stick in the east; "As to Mr.Jarndyce," Richard would say to me, "he is the finest fellow in theworld, Esther! I must be particularly careful, if it were only forhis satisfaction, to take myself well to task and have a regularwind-up of this business now."The idea of his taking himself well to task, with that laughingface and heedless manner and with a fancy that everything couldcatch and nothing could hold, was ludicrously anomalous. However,he told us between-whiles that he was doing it to such an extentthat he wondered his hair didn't turn grey. His regular wind-up ofthe business was (as I have said) that he went to Mr. Kenge's aboutmidsummer to try how he liked it.All this time he was, in money affairs, what I have described himin a former illustration--generous, profuse, wildly careless, butfully persuaded that he was rather calculating and prudent. Ihappened to say to Ada, in his presence, half jestingly, halfseriously, about the time of his going to Mr. Kenge's, that heneeded to have Fortunatus' purse, he made so light of money, whichhe answered in this way, "My jewel of a dear cousin, you hear thisold woman! Why does she say that? Because I gave eight pounds odd(or whatever it was) for a certain neat waistcoat and buttons a fewdays ago. Now, if I had stayed at Badger's I should have beenobliged to spend twelve pounds at a blow for some heart-breakinglecture-fees. So I make four pounds--in a lump--by thetransaction!"It was a question much discussed between him and my guardian whatarrangements should be made for his living in London while heexperimented on the law, for we had long since gone back to BleakHouse, and it was too far off to admit of his coming there oftenerthan once a week. My guardian told me that if Richard were tosettle down at Mr. Kenge's he would take some apartments orchambers where we too could occasionally stay for a few days at atime; "but, little woman," he added, rubbing his head verysignificantly, "he hasn't settled down there yet!" The discussionsended in our hiring for him, by the month, a neat little furnishedlodging in a quiet old house near Queen Square. He immediatelybegan to spend all the money he had in buying the oddest littleornaments and luxuries for this lodging; and so often as Ada and Idissuaded him from making any purchase that he had in contemplationwhich was particularly unnecessary and expensive, he took creditfor what it would have cost and made out that to spend anythingless on something else was to save the difference.While these affairs were in abeyance, our visit to Mr. Boythorn'swas postponed. At length, Richard having taken possession of hislodging, there was nothing to prevent our departure. He could havegone with us at that time of the year very well, but he was in thefull novelty of his new position and was making most energeticattempts to unravel the mysteries of the fatal suit. Consequentlywe went without him, and my darling was delighted to praise him forbeing so busy.We made a pleasant journey down into Lincolnshire by the coach andhad an entertaining companion in Mr. Skimpole. His furniture hadbeen all cleared off, it appeared, by the person who tookpossession of it on his blue-eyed daughter's birthday, but heseemed quite relieved to think that it was gone. Chairs and table,he said, were wearisome objects; they were monotonous ideas, theyhad no variety of expression, they looked you out of countenance,and you looked them out of countenance. How pleasant, then, to bebound to no particular chairs and tables, but to sport like abutterfly among all the furniture on hire, and to flit fromrosewood to mahogany, and from mahogany to walnut, and from thisshape to that, as the humour took one!"The oddity of the thing is," said Mr. Skimpole with a quickenedsense of the ludicrous, "that my chairs and tables were not paidfor, and yet my landlord walks off with them as composedly aspossible. Now, that seems droll! There is something grotesque init. The chair and table merchant never engaged to pay my landlordmy rent. Why should my landlord quarrel with him? If I have apimple on my nose which is disagreeable to my landlord's peculiarideas of beauty, my landlord has no business to scratch my chairand table merchant's nose, which has no pimple on it. Hisreasoning seems defective!""Well," said my guardian good-humouredly, "it's pretty clear thatwhoever became security for those chairs and tables will have topay for them.""Exactly!" returned Mr. Skimpole. "That's the crowning point ofunreason in the business! I said to my landlord, 'My good man, youare not aware that my excellent friend Jarndyce will have to payfor those things that you are sweeping off in that indelicatemanner. Have you no consideration for his property?' He hadn't theleast.""And refused all proposals," said my guardian."Refused all proposals," returned Mr. Skimpole. "I made himbusiness proposals. I had him into my room. I said, 'You are aman of business, I believe?' He replied, 'I am,' 'Very well,'said I, 'now let us be business-like. Here is an inkstand, hereare pens and paper, here are wafers. What do you want? I haveoccupied your house for a considerable period, I believe to ourmutual satisfaction until this unpleasant misunderstanding arose;let us be at once friendly and business-like. What do you want?'In reply to this, he made use of the figurative expression--whichhas something Eastern about it--that he had never seen the colourof my money. 'My amiable friend,' said I, 'I never have any money.I never know anything about money.' 'Well, sir,' said he, 'what doyou offer if I give you time?' 'My good fellow,' said I, 'I haveno idea of time; but you say you are a man of business, andwhatever you can suggest to be done in a business-like way withpen, and ink, and paper--and wafers--I am ready to do. Don't payyourself at another man's expense (which is foolish), but bebusiness-like!' However, he wouldn't be, and there was an end ofit."If these were some of the inconveniences of Mr. Skimpole'schildhood, it assuredly possessed its advantages too. On thejourney he had a very good appetite for such refreshment as came inour way (including a basket of choice hothouse peaches), but neverthought of paying for anything. So when the coachman came roundfor his fee, he pleasantly asked him what he considered a very goodfee indeed, now--a liberal one--and on his replying half a crownfor a single passenger, said it was little enough too, all thingsconsidered, and left Mr. Jarndyce to give it him.It was delightful weather. The green corn waved so beautifully,the larks sang so joyfully, the hedges were so full of wildflowers, the trees were so thickly out in leaf, the bean-fields,with a light wind blowing over them, filled the air with such adelicious fragrance! Late in the afternoon we came to the market-town where we were to alight from the coach--a dull little townwith a church-spire, and a marketplace, and a market-cross, and oneintensely sunny street, and a pond with an old horse cooling hislegs in it, and a very few men sleepily lying and standing about innarrow little bits of shade. After the rustling of the leaves andthe waving of the corn all along the road, it looked as still, ashot, as motionless a little town as England could produce.At the inn we found Mr. Boythorn on horseback, waiting with an opencarriage to take us to his house, which was a few miles off. Hewas over-joyed to see us and dismounted with great alacrity."By heaven!" said he after giving us a courteous greeting. This amost infamous coach. It is the most flagrant example of anabominable public vehicle that ever encumbered the face of theearth. It is twenty-five minutes after its time this afternoon.The coachman ought to be put to death!""Is he after his time?" said Mr. Skimpole, to whom he happened toaddress himself. "You know my infirmity.""Twenty-five minutes! Twenty-six minutes!" replied Mr. Boythorn,referring to his watch. "With two ladies in the coach, thisscoundrel has deliberately delayed his arrival six and twentyminutes. Deliberately! It is impossible that it can beaccidental! But his father--and his uncle--were the mostprofligate coachmen that ever sat upon a box."While he said this in tones of the greatest indignation, he handedus into the little phaeton with the utmost gentleness and was allsmiles and pleasure."I am sorry, ladies," he said, standing bare-headed at thecarriage-door when all was ready, "that I am obliged to conduct younearly two miles out of the way. But our direct road lies throughSir Leicester Dedlock's park, and in that fellow's property I havesworn never to set foot of mine, or horse's foot of mine, pendingthe present relations between us, while I breathe the breath oflife!" And here, catching my guardian's eye, he broke into one ofhis tremendous laughs, which seemed to shake even the motionlesslittle market-town."Are the Dedlocks down here, Lawrence?" said my guardian as wedrove along and Mr. Boythorn trotted on the green turf by theroadside."Sir Arrogant Numskull is here," replied Mr. Boythorn. "Ha ha ha!Sir Arrogant is here, and I am glad to say, has been laid by theheels here. My Lady," in naming whom he always made a courtlygesture as if particularly to exclude her from any part in thequarrel, "is expected, I believe, daily. I am not in the leastsurprised that she postpones her appearance as long as possible.Whatever can have induced that transcendent woman to marry thateffigy and figure-head of a baronet is one of the most impenetrablemysteries that ever baffled human inquiry. Ha ha ha ha!""I suppose, said my guardian, laughing, "we may set foot in thepark while we are here? The prohibition does not extend to us,does it?""I can lay no prohibition on my guests," he said, bending his headto Ada and me with the smiling politeness which sat so gracefullyupon him, "except in the matter of their departure. I am onlysorry that I cannot have the happiness of being their escort aboutChesney Wold, which is a very fine place! But by the light of thissummer day, Jarndyce, if you call upon the owner while you staywith me, you are likely to have but a cool reception. He carrieshimself like an eight-day clock at all times, like one of a race ofeight-day clocks in gorgeous cases that never go and never went--Haha ha!--but he will have some extra stiffness, I can promise you,for the friends of his friend and neighbour Boythorn!""I shall not put him to the proof," said my guardian. "He is asindifferent to the honour of knowing me, I dare say, as I am to thehonour of knowing him. The air of the grounds and perhaps such aview of the house as any other sightseer might get are quite enoughfor me.""Well!" said Mr. Boythorn. "I am glad of it on the whole. It's inbetter keeping. I am looked upon about here as a second Ajaxdefying the lightning. Ha ha ha ha! When I go into our littlechurch on a Sunday, a considerable part of the inconsiderablecongregation expect to see me drop, scorched and withered, on thepavement under the Dedlock displeasure. Ha ha ha ha! I have nodoubt he is surprised that I don't. For he is, by heaven, the mostself-satisfied, and the shallowest, and the most coxcombical andutterly brainless ass!"Our coming to the ridge of a hill we had been ascending enabled ourfriend to point out Chesney Wold itself to us and diverted hisattention from its master.It was a picturesque old house in a fine park richly wooded. Amongthe trees and not far from the residence he pointed out the spireof the little church of which he had spoken. Oh, the solemn woodsover which the light and shadow travelled swiftly, as if heavenlywings were sweeping on benignant errands through the summer air;the smooth green slopes, the glittering water, the garden where theflowers were so symmetrically arranged in clusters of the richestcolours, how beautiful they looked! The house, with gable andchimney, and tower, and turret, and dark doorway, and broadterrace-walk, twining among the balustrades of which, and lyingheaped upon the vases, there was one great flush of roses, seemedscarcely real in its light solidity and in the serene and peacefulhush that rested on all around it. To Ada and to me, that aboveall appeared the pervading influence. On everything, house,garden, terrace, green slopes, water, old oaks, fern, moss, woodsagain, and far away across the openings in the prospect to thedistance lying wide before us with a purple bloom upon it, thereseemed to be such undisturbed repose.When we came into the little village and passed a small inn withthe sign of the Dedlock Arms swinging over the road in front, Mr.Boythorn interchanged greetings with a young gentleman sitting on abench outside the inn-door who had some fishing-tackle lying besidehim."That's the housekeeper's grandson, Mr. Rouncewell by name," said,he, "and he is in love with a pretty girl up at the house. LadyDedlock has taken a fancy to the pretty girl and is going to keepher about her own fair person--an honour which my young friendhimself does not at all appreciate. However, he can't marry justyet, even if his Rosebud were willing; so he is fain to make thebest of it. In the meanwhile, he comes here pretty often for a dayor two at a time to--fish. Ha ha ha ha!""Are he and the pretty girl engaged, Mr. Boythorn?" asked Ada."Why, my dear Miss Clare," he returned, "I think they may perhapsunderstand each other; but you will see them soon, I dare say, andI must learn from you on such a point--not you from me."Ada blushed, and Mr. Boythorn, trotting forward on his comely greyhorse, dismounted at his own door and stood ready with extended armand uncovered head to welcome us when we arrived.He lived in a pretty house, formerly the parsonage house, with alawn in front, a bright flower-garden at the side, and a well-stocked orchard and kitchen-garden in the rear, enclosed with avenerable wall that had of itself a ripened ruddy look. But,indeed, everything about the place wore an aspect of maturity andabundance. The old lime-tree walk was like green cloisters, thevery shadows of the cherry-trees and apple-trees were heavy withfruit, the gooseberry-bushes were so laden that their branchesarched and rested on the earth, the strawberries and raspberriesgrew in like profusion, and the peaches basked by the hundred onthe wall. Tumbled about among the spread nets and the glass framessparkling and winking in the sun there were such heaps of droopingpods, and marrows, and cucumbers, that every foot of groundappeared a vegetable treasury, while the smell of sweet herbs andall kinds of wholesome growth (to say nothing of the neighbouringmeadows where the hay was carrying) made the whole air a greatnosegay. Such stillness and composure reigned within the orderlyprecincts of the old red wall that even the feathers hung ingarlands to scare the birds hardly stirred; and the wall had such aripening influence that where, here and there high up, a disusednail and scrap of list still clung to it, it was easy to fancy thatthey had mellowed with the changing seasons and that they hadrusted and decayed according to the common fate.The house, though a little disorderly in comparison with thegarden, was a real old house with settles in the chimney of thebrick-floored kitchen and great beams across the ceilings. On oneside of it was the terrible piece of ground in dispute, where Mr.Boythorn maintained a sentry in a smock-frock day and night, whoseduty was supposed to be, in cases of aggression, immediately toring a large bell hung up there for the purpose, to unchain a greatbull-dog established in a kennel as his ally, and generally to dealdestruction on the enemy. Not content with these precautions, Mr.Boythorn had himself composed and posted there, on painted boardsto which his name was attached in large letters, the followingsolemn warnings: "Beware of the bull-dog. He is most ferocious.Lawrence Boythorn." "The blunderbus is loaded with slugs.Lawrence Boythorn." "Man-traps and spring-guns are set here at alltimes of the day and night. Lawrence Boythorn." "Take notice.That any person or persons audaciously presuming to trespass onthis property will be punished with the utmost severity of privatechastisement and prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law.Lawrence Boythorn." These he showed us from the drawing-roomwindow, while his bird was hopping about his head, and he laughed,"Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha!" to that extent as he pointed them outthat I really thought he would have hurt himself."But this is taking a good deal of trouble," said Mr. Skimpole inhis light way, "when you are not in earnest after all.""Not in earnest!" returned Mr. Boythorn with unspeakable warmth."Not in earnest! If I could have hoped to train him, I would havebought a lion instead of that dog and would have turned him looseupon the first intolerable robber who should dare to make anencroachment on my rights. Let Sir Leicester Dedlock consent tocome out and decide this question by single combat, and I will meethim with any weapon known to mankind in any age or country. I amthat much in earnest. Not more!"We arrived at his house on a Saturday. On the Sunday morning weall set forth to walk to the little church in the park. Enteringthe park, almost immediately by the disputed ground, we pursued apleasant footpath winding among the verdant turf and the beautifultrees until it brought us to the church-porch.The congregation was extremely small and quite a rustic one withthe exception of a large muster of servants from the house, some ofwhom were already in their seats, while others were yet droppingin. There were some stately footmen, and there was a perfectpicture of an old coachman, who looked as if he were the officialrepresentative of all the pomps and vanities that had ever been putinto his coach. There was a very pretty show of young women, andabove them, the handsome old face and fine responsible portlyfigure of the housekeeper towered pre-eminent. The pretty girl ofwhom Mr. Boythorn had told us was close by her. She was so verypretty that I might have known her by her beauty even if I had notseen how blushingly conscious she was of the eyes of the youngfisherman, whom I discovered not far off. One face, and not anagreeable one, though it was handsome, seemed maliciously watchfulof this pretty girl, and indeed of every one and everything there.It was a Frenchwoman's.As the bell was yet ringing and the great people were not yet come,I had leisure to glance over the church, which smelt as earthy as agrave, and to think what a shady, ancient, solemn little church itwas. The windows, heavily shaded by trees, admitted a subduedlight that made the faces around me pale, and darkened the oldbrasses in the pavement and the time and damp-worn monuments, andrendered the sunshine in the little porch, where a monotonousringer was working at the bell, inestimably bright. But a stir inthat direction, a gathering of reverential awe in the rustic faces,and a blandly ferocious assumption on the part of Mr. Boythorn ofbeing resolutely unconscious of somebody's existence forewarned methat the great people were come and that the service was going tobegin."'Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O Lord, for in thysight--'"Shall I ever forget the rapid beating at my heart, occasioned bythe look I met as I stood up! Shall I ever forget the manner inwhich those handsome proud eyes seemed to spring out of theirlanguor and to hold mine! It was only a moment before I cast minedown--released again, if I may say so--on my book; but I knew thebeautiful face quite well in that short space of time.And, very strangely, there was something quickened within me,associated with the lonely days at my godmother's; yes, away evento the days when I had stood on tiptoe to dress myself at my littleglass after dressing my doll. And this, although I had never seenthis lady's face before in all my life--I was quite sure of it--absolutely certain.It was easy to know that the ceremonious, gouty, grey-hairedgentleman, the only other occupant of the great pew, was SirLeicester Dedlock, and that the lady was Lady Dedlock. But why herface should be, in a confused way, like a broken glass to me, inwhich I saw scraps of old remembrances, and why I should be sofluttered and troubled (for I was still) by having casually met hereyes, I could not think.I felt it to be an unmeaning weakness in me and tried to overcomeit by attending to the words I heard. Then, very strangely, Iseemed to hear them, not in the reader's voice, but in the well-remembered voice of my godmother. This made me think, did LadyDedlock's face accidentally resemble my godmother's? It might bethat it did, a little; but the expression was so different, and thestern decision which had worn into my godmother's face, likeweather into rocks, was so completely wanting in the face before methat it could not be that resemblance which had struck me. Neitherdid I know the loftiness and haughtiness of Lady Dedlock's face, atall, in any one. And yet I--I, little Esther Summerson, the childwho lived a life apart and on whose birthday there was norejoicing--seemed to arise before my own eyes, evoked out of thepast by some power in this fashionable lady, whom I not onlyentertained no fancy that I had ever seen, but whom I perfectlywell knew I had never seen until that hour.It made me tremble so to be thrown into this unaccountableagitation that I was conscious of being distressed even by theobservation of the French maid, though I knew she had been lookingwatchfully here, and there, and everywhere, from the moment of hercoming into the church. By degrees, though very slowly, I at lastovercame my strange emotion. After a long time, I looked towardsLady Dedlock again. It was while they were preparing to sing,before the sermon. She took no heed of me, and the beating at myheart was gone. Neither did it revive for more than a few momentswhen she once or twice afterwards glanced at Ada or at me throughher glass.The service being concluded, Sir Leicester gave his arm with muchtaste and gallantry to Lady Dedlock--though he was obliged to walkby the help of a thick stick--and escorted her out of church to thepony carriage in which they had come. The servants then dispersed,and so did the congregation, whom Sir Leicester had contemplatedall along (Mr. Skimpole said to Mr. Boythorn's infinite delight) asif he were a considerable landed proprietor in heaven."He believes he is!" said Mr. Boythorn. "He firmly believes it.So did his father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather!""Do you know," pursued Mr. Skimpole very unexpectedly to Mr.Boythorn, "it's agreeable to me to see a man of that sort.""Is it!" said Mr. Boytborn."Say that he wants to patronize me," pursued Mr. Skimpole. "Verywell! I don't object.""I do," said Mr. Boythorn with great vigour."Do you really?" returned Mr. Skimpole in his easy light vein."But that's taking trouble, surely. And why should you taketrouble? Here am I, content to receive things childishly as theyfall out, and I never take trouble! I come down here, forinstance, and I find a mighty potentate exacting homage. Verywell! I say 'Mighty potentate, here is my homage! It's easier togive it than to withhold it. Here it is. If you have anything ofan agreeable nature to show me, I shall be happy to see it; if youhave anything of an agreeable nature to give me, I shall be happyto accept it.' Mighty potentate replies in effect, 'This is asensible fellow. I find him accord with my digestion and mybilious system. He doesn't impose upon me the necessity of rollingmyself up like a hedgehog with my points outward. I expand, Iopen, I turn my silver lining outward like Milton's cloud, and it'smore agreeable to both of us.' That's my view of such things,speaking as a child!""But suppose you went down somewhere else to-morrow," said Mr.Boythorn, "where there was the opposite of that fellow--or of thisfellow. How then?""How then?" said Mr. Skimpole with an appearance of the utmostsimplicity and candour. "Just the same then! I should say, 'Myesteemed Boythorn'--to make you the personification of ourimaginary friend--'my esteemed Boythorn, you object to the mightypotentate? Very good. So do I. I take it that my business in thesocial system is to be agreeable; I take it that everybody'sbusiness in the social system is to be agreeable. It's a system ofharmony, in short. Therefore if you object, I object. Now,excellent Boythorn, let us go to dinner!'""But excellent Boythorn might say," returned our host, swelling andgrowing very red, "I'll be--""I understand," said Mr. Skimpole. "Very likely he would.""--if I will go to dinner!" cried Mr. Boythorn in a violent burstand stopping to strike his stick upon the ground. "And he wouldprobably add, 'Is there such a thing as principle, Mr. HaroldSkimpole?'""To which Harold Skimpole would reply, you know," he returned inhis gayest manner and with his most ingenuous smile, "'Upon my lifeI have not the least idea! I don't know what it is you call bythat name, or where it is, or who possesses it. If you possess itand find it comfortable, I am quite delighted and congratulate youheartily. But I know nothing about it, I assure you; for I am amere child, and I lay no claim to it, and I don't want it!' So,you see, excellent Boythorn and I would go to dinner after all!"This was one of many little dialogues between them which I alwaysexpected to end, and which I dare say would have ended under othercircumstances, in some violent explosion on the part of our host.But he had so high a sense of his hospitable and responsibleposition as our entertainer, and my guardian laughed so sincerelyat and with Mr. Skimpole, as a child who blew bubbles and brokethem all day long, that matters never went beyond this point. Mr.Skimpole, who always seemed quite unconscious of having been ondelicate ground, then betook himself to beginning some sketch inthe park which be never finished, or to playing fragments of airson the piano, or to singing scraps of songs, or to lying down onhis back under a tree and looking at the sky--which he couldn'thelp thinking, he said, was what he was meant for; it suited him soexactly."Enterprise and effort," he would say to us (on his back), aredelightful to me. I believe I am truly cosmopolitan. I have thedeepest sympathy with them. I lie in a shady place like this andthink of adventurous spirits going to the North Pole or penetratingto the heart of the Torrid Zone with admiration. Mercenarycreatures ask, 'What is the use of a man's going to the North Pole?What good does it do?' I can't say; but, for anything I can say,he may go for the purpose--though he don't know it--of employing mythoughts as I lie here. Take an extreme case. Take the case ofthe slaves on American plantations. I dare say they are workedhard, I dare say they don't altogether like it. I dare say theirsis an unpleasant experience on the whole; but they people thelandscape for me, they give it a poetry for me, and perhaps that isone of the pleasanter objects of their existence. I am verysensible of it, if it be, and I shouldn't wonder if it were!"I always wondered on these occasions whether he ever thought ofMrs. Skimpole and the children, and in what point of view theypresented themselves to his cosmopolitan mind. So far as I couldunderstand, they rarely presented themselves at all.The week had gone round to the Saturday following that beating ofmy heart in the church; and every day had been so bright and bluethat to ramble in the woods, and to see the light striking downamong the transparent leaves and sparkling in the beautifulinterlacings of the shadows of the trees, while the birds pouredout their songs and the air was drowsy with the hum of insects, hadbeen most delightful. We had one favourite spot, deep in moss andlast year's leaves, where there were some felled trees from whichthe bark was all stripped off. Seated among these, we lookedthrough a green vista supported by thousands of natural columns,the whitened stems of trees, upon a distant prospect made soradiant by its contrast with the shade in which we sat and made soprecious by the arched perspective through which we saw it that itwas like a glimpse of the better land. Upon the Saturday we sathere, Mr. Jarndyce, Ada, and I, until we heard thunder muttering inthe distance and felt the large raindrops rattle through theleaves.The weather had been all the week extremely sultry, but the stormbroke so suddenly--upon us, at least, in that sheltered spot--thatbefore we reached the outskirts of the wood the thunder andlightning were frequent and the rain came plunging through theleaves as if every drop were a great leaden bead. As it was not atime for standing among trees, we ran out of the wood, and up anddown the moss-grown steps which crossed the plantation-fence liketwo broad-staved ladders placed back to back, and made for akeeper's lodge which was close at hand. We had often noticed thedark beauty of this lodge standing in a deep twilight of trees, andhow the ivy clustered over it, and how there was a steep hollownear, where we had once seen the keeper's dog dive down into thefern as if it were water.The lodge was so dark within, now the sky was overcast, that weonly clearly saw the man who came to the door when we took shelterthere and put two chairs for Ada and me. The lattice-windows wereall thrown open, and we sat just within the doorway watching thestorm. It was grand to see how the wind awoke, and bent the trees,and drove the rain before it like a cloud of smoke; and to hear thesolemn thunder and to see the lightning; and while thinking withawe of the tremendous powers by which our little lives areencompassed, to consider how beneficent they are and how upon thesmallest flower and leaf there was already a freshness poured fromall this seeming rage which seemed to make creation new again."Is it not dangerous to sit in so exposed a place?""Oh, no, Esther dear!" said Ada quietly.Ada said it to me, but I had not spoken.The beating of my heart came back again. I had never heard thevoice, as I had never seen the face, but it affected me in the samestrange way. Again, in a moment, there arose before my mindinnumerable pictures of myself.Lady Dedlock had taken shelter in the lodge before our arrivalthere and had come out of the gloom within. She stood behind mychair with her hand upon it. I saw her with her hand close to myshoulder when I turned my head."I have frightened you?" she said.No. It was not fright. Why should I be frightened!"I believe," said Lady Dedlock to my guardian, "I have the pleasureof speaking to Mr. Jarndyce.""Your remembrance does me more honour than I had supposed it would,Lady Dedlock," he returned."I recognized you in church on Sunday. I am sorry that any localdisputes of Sir Leicester's--they are not of his seeking, however,I believe--should render it a matter of some absurd difficulty toshow you any attention here.""I am aware of the circumstances," returned my guardian with asmile, "and am sufficiently obliged."She had given him her hand in an indifferent way that seemedhabitual to her and spoke in a correspondingly indifferent manner,though in a very pleasant voice. She was as graceful as she wasbeautiful, perfectly self-possessed, and had the air, I thought, ofbeing able to attract and interest any one if she had thought itworth her while. The keeper had brought her a chair on which shesat in the middle of the porch between us."Is the young gentleman disposed of whom you wrote to Sir Leicesterabout and whose wishes Sir Leicester was sorry not to have it inhis power to advance in any way?" she said over her shoulder to myguardian."I hope so," said he.She seemed to respect him and even to wish to conciliate him.There was something very winning in her haughty manner, and itbecame more familiar--I was going to say more easy, but that couldhardly be--as she spoke to him over her shoulder."I presume this is your other ward, Miss Clare?"He presented Ada, in form."You will lose the disinterested part of your Don Quixotecharacter," said Lady Dedlock to Mr. Jarndyce over her shoulderagain, "if you only redress the wrongs of beauty like this. Butpresent me," and she turned full upon me, "to this young lady too!""Miss Summerson really is my ward," said Mr. Jarndyce. "I amresponsible to no Lord Chancellor in her case.""Has Miss Summerson lost both her parents?" said my Lady."Yes.""She is very fortunate in her guardian."Lady Dedlock looked at me, and I looked at her and said I wasindeed. All at once she turned from me with a hasty air, almostexpressive of displeasure or dislike, and spoke to him over hershoulder again."Ages have passed since we were in the habit of meeting, Mr.Jarndyce.""A long time. At least I thought it was a long time, until I sawyou last Sunday," he returned."What! Even you are a courtier, or think it necessary to becomeone to me!" she said with some disdain. "I have achieved thatreputation, I suppose.""You have achieved so much, Lady Dedlock," said my guardian, "thatyou pay some little penalty, I dare say. But none to me.""So much!" she repeated, slightly laughing. "Yes!"With her air of superiority, and power, and fascination, and I knownot what, she seemed to regard Ada and me as little more thanchildren. So, as she slightly laughed and afterwards sat lookingat the rain, she was as self-possessed and as free to occupyherself with her own thoughts as if she had been alone."I think you knew my sister when we were abroad together betterthan you know me?" she said, looking at him again."Yes, we happened to meet oftener," he returned."We went our several ways," said Lady Dedlock, "and had little incommon even before we agreed to differ. It is to be regretted, Isuppose, but it could not be helped."Lady Dedlock again sat looking at the rain. The storm soon beganto pass upon its way. The shower greatly abated, the lightningceased, the thunder rolled among the distant hills, and the sunbegan to glisten on the wet leaves and the falling rain. As we satthere, silently, we saw a little pony phaeton coming towards us ata merry pace."The messenger is coming back, my Lady," said the keeper, "with thecarriage."As it drove up, we saw that there were two people inside. Therealighted from it, with some cloaks and wrappers, first theFrenchwoman whom I had seen in church, and secondly the prettygirl, the Frenchwoman with a defiant confidence, the pretty girlconfused and hesitating."What now?" said Lady Dedlock. "Two!""I am your maid, my Lady, at the present," said the Frenchwoman."The message was for the attendant.""I was afraid you might mean me, my Lady," said the pretty girl."I did mean you, child," replied her mistress calmly. "Put thatshawl on me."She slightly stooped her shoulders to receive it, and the prettygirl lightly dropped it in its place. The Frenchwoman stoodunnoticed, looking on with her lips very tightly set."I am sorry," said Lady Dedlock to Mr. Jarndyce, "that we are notlikely to renew our former acquaintance. You will allow me to sendthe carriage back for your two wards. It shall be here directly."But as he would on no account accept this offer, she took agraceful leave of Ada--none of me--and put her hand upon hisproffered arm, and got into the carriage, which was a little, low,park carriage with a hood."Come in, child," she said to the pretty girl; "I shall want you.Go on!"The carriage rolled away, and the Frenchwoman, with the wrappersshe had brought hanging over her arm, remained standing where shehad alighted.I suppose there is nothing pride can so little bear with as prideitself, and that she was punished for her imperious manner. Herretaliation was the most singular I could have imagined. Sheremained perfectly still until the carriage had turned into thedrive, and then, without the least discomposure of countenance,slipped off her shoes, left them on the ground, and walkeddeliberately in the same direction through the wettest of the wetgrass."Is that young woman mad?" said my guardian."Oh, no, sir!" said the keeper, who, with his wife, was lookingafter her. "Hortense is not one of that sort. She has as good ahead-piece as the best. But she's mortal high and passionate--powerful high and passionate; and what with having notice to leave,and having others put above her, she don't take kindly to it.""But why should she walk shoeless through all that water?" said myguardian."Why, indeed, sir, unless it is to cool her down!" said the man."Or unless she fancies it's blood," said the woman. "She'd as soonwalk through that as anything else, I think, when her own's up!"We passed not far from the house a few minutes afterwards.Peaceful as it had looked when we first saw it, it looked even moreso now, with a diamond spray glittering all about it, a light windblowing, the birds no longer hushed but singing strongly,everything refreshed by the late rain, and the little carriageshining at the doorway like a fairy carriage made of silver.Still, very steadfastly and quietly walking towards it, a peacefulfigure too in the landscape, went Mademoiselle Hortense, shoeless,through the wet grass.