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She has one of her miserable headaches, poor thing; but she'll be better, she says, in the afternoon, and hopes to come up here to see you, and Miss Brandon, this evening. Lord Chelford and I had a pleasant walk that day to the ruins of Willerton Castle. I find in my diary a note 'Chelford tells me it is written in old surveys, Wylderton, and was one of the houses of the Wylders.
There was Sir Jonathan Brandon, for instance, who ran his own nephew through the lungs in a duel fought in a paroxysm of Cencian jealousy; and afterwards shot his coachman dead upon the box through his coach-window, and finally died in Vienna, whither he had absconded, of a pike-thrust received from a sentry in a brawl. The Wylders had not much to boast of, even in contrast with that wicked line.
So there were Wylders of Brandon, and Brandons of Brandon. In one generation, a Wylder ill-using his wife and hating his children, would cut them all off, and send the estate bounding back again to the Brandons.
"But this morning my stepmother began feeling my mouth: she would have me promise not to call on the Wylders. They had been rude to her, she said." "Come into the drawing-room. A friend of mine is there who will be glad to see you." The drawing-room of the parsonage was low and dark, with its two windows close together on the same side.
The estates have been back and forward so often between the Brandons and Wylders, I always fancy there may be a screw loose, or a frangible link somewhere, and he's deeply interested for Mark Wylder. 'You are better, darling; I think you are better, he said, looking in her face, after a little pause. 'Yes, dear Stanley, much better; but why should you suppose any plot against our title?
They had produced their madmen and villains, too; and there had been frequent intermarriages not very often happy. There had been many lawsuits, frequent disinheritings, and even worse doings. The Wylders of Brandon appear very early in history; and the Wylder arms, with their legend, 'resurgam, stands in bold relief over the great door of Brandon Hall.
That little helpless, groping, wailing creature was now the Dorcas Brandon, the mistress of the grand old mansion and all its surroundings, who was the heroine of the splendid matrimonial compromise which was about to reconcile a feud, and avert a possible lawsuit, and, for one generation, at least, to tranquillise the troubled annals of the Brandons and Wylders.
'I lighted on him in the village; and I knew Miss Brandon would not forgive me if I allowed him to go away without coming here. I'm bad at genealogies. My mother could tell us all about it we, Brandons, Lakes; Wylders, and Chelfords. At this moment Miss Brandon entered, with her brilliant Cousin Rachel. The blonde and the dark, it was a dazzling contrast.
"Am I to understand you intend calling on the Wylders?" she said. "I have imperative reasons for calling upon them this very morning," answered Richard. "I am sorry you should so immediately show your antagonism!" said lady Ann. "My obligations to Miss Wylder are such that I must see her the first possible moment." "Have you asked your father's permission?"
'Yes, Radie; ha, ha! of course I promise. 'Upon your honour? 'Upon my honour there. 'I believe, you gentlemen dragoons observe that oath I hope so. If you choose to break it you may give me some trouble, but you sha'n't compromise me. And now, Stanley, one word more. I fancy Mr. Wylder is a resolute man none of the Wylders wanted courage.
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