Irene Iddesleigh
ruined the very existence of him whom you now profess to have loved?
You, the wretch of wicked and wilful treachery, and formerly the wife of
him before whose very bones you falsely kneel! Are you the confirmed
traitoress of the trust reposed in you by my late lamented, dearest, and
most noble of fathers? Are you aware that the hypocrisy you manifested
once has been handed down to me as an heirloom of polluted possession,
and stored within this breast of mine, an indelible stain for life, or,
I might say, during your known and hated existence?
"False woman! Wicked wife! Detested mother! Bereft widow!
"How darest thou set foot on the premises your chastity should have
protected and secured! What wind of transparent touch must have blown
its blasts of boldest bravery around your poisoned person and guided you
within miles of the mansion I proudly own?
"What spirit but that of evil used its influence upon you to dare to
bend your footsteps of foreign tread towards the door through which they
once stole unknown? Ah, woman of sin and stray companion of tutorism,
arise, I demand you, and strike across that grassy centre as quickly as
you can, and never more make your hated face appear within these mighty
walls. I can never own you; I can never call you mother; I cannot extend
the assistance your poor, poverty-stricken attire of false don silently
requests; neither can I ever meet you on this side the grave, before
which you so pityingly kneel!"
Speechless and dogged did the dishonoured mother steal for ever from the
presence of her son, but not before bestowing one final look at the
brightened eye and angry countenance of him who loaded on her his lordly
abuse. The bowed form of former stateliness left for ever the grounds
she might have owned without even daring to offer one word of repentance
or explanation to her son.
Walking leisurely along the road that reached Dilworth Castle, how the
trying moments told upon her who shared in pangs of insult and
poverty!--how the thoughts of pleasant days piled themselves with
parched power upon the hilltop of remembrance and died away in the
distance! The whirling brain became more staid as she heard the approach
of horses' feet, and stopping to act the part of Lot's wife, gave such a
haggard stare at the driver of the vehicle as caused him to make a
sudden halt. Asking her to have a seat, the weary woman gladly mounted
upon its cushion with thankfulness, and alighted on reaching its
journey's end, about three miles from Audley Hall. The drive was a long
one, and helped to rest the tired body of temptation.
Returning thanks to the obliging driver, she marched wearily along until
she reached the home of her first refuge after flight.
Perceiving the yellow shutters firmly bolted against the light admitters
of Audley Hall, she feared disappointment was also awaiting her.
Knocking loudly twice before any attempt was made to open the door,
there came at last an aged man with halting step and shaking limb.
"Is Major Iddesleigh at home?" asked the saddened widow. "Oh, madam, he
has been dead almost twelve years, and since then no one has occupied
this Hall save myself, who am caretaker. The Marquis of Orland was
deceived by his nephew, who sold it in an underhand manner to the major,
and he resolved that never again would he allow it to be occupied since
the major's death by any outsider."
"You are rather lonely," said the widow. "Yes, yes," replied he; "but I
have always been accustomed living alone, being an old bachelor, and
wish to remain so. It is better to live a life of singleness than
torture both body and soul by marrying a woman who doesn't love you,
like the good Sir John Dunfern--a nobleman who lived only some miles
from this, and who died lately broken-hearted--who became so infatuated
with an upstart of unknown parentage, who lived in Dilworth Castle, with
one Lord Dilworth, the previous owner, that he married her offhand, and,
what was the result, my good woman?--why she eventually ran off with a
poor tutor! and brought the hairs of hoary whiteness of Sir John Dunfern
to the grave much sooner than in all probability they would have, had he
remained like me."
Facing fumes of insult again, thought the listener. And asking after
Major Iddesleigh's will, eagerly awaited his reply.
Placing one hand upon her shoulder, and pointing with the other,
"Behold," said he, "yonder church? that was his last will--Iddesleigh
Church. It was only when the jaws of death gaped for their prey that the
major was forced to alter his will, having had it previously prepared in
favour of his niece, whose whereabouts could never be traced until after
his death." "Enough--enough, I must go," said the painful listener, and
thanking the old man for his information, which, like her son's, had
screwed its bolts of deadly weight more deeply down on the lid of
abstract need, turned her back on Audley Hall for ever.
CHAPTER XIX.
Hope sinks a world of imagination. It in almost every instance never
fails to arm the opponents of justice with weapons of friendly defence,
and gains their final fight with peaceful submission. Life is too often
stripped of its pleasantness by the steps of false assumption, marring
the true path of life-long happiness which should be pebbled with
principle, piety, purity, and peace.
Next morning, after the trying adventure of the lonely outcast, was the
scene of wonder at Dilworth Castle. Henry Hawkes, the head gardener
under the Marquis of Orland, on approaching the little summer-house in
which Irene Iddesleigh so often sat in days of youth, was horrified to
find the dead body of a woman, apparently a widow, lying prostrate
inside its mossy walls. "Lord, protect me!" shouted poor Hawkes, half
distractedly, and hurried to Dilworth Castle to inform the inmates of
what he had just seen.
They all rushed towards the little rustic building to verify the
certainty of the gardener's remarks. There she lay, cold, stiff, and
lifeless as Nero, and must have been dead for hours. They advised the
authorities, who were soon on the spot.
What stinging looks of shame the Marquis cast upon her corpse on being
told that it was that of the once beautiful Lady Dunfern--mother of the
present heir to Dunfern estate!
Lying close at hand was an old and soiled card, with the words almost
beyond distinction, "Irene Iddesleigh." In an instant her whole history
flashed before the unforgiving mind of the Marquis, and being a sharer
in her devices, through his nephew Oscar Otwell, ordered her body to be
conveyed to the morgue, at the same time intimating to Sir Hugh Dunfern
her demise.
It transpired at the inquest, held next day, that she was admitted the
previous night to the grounds of Dilworth Castle by the porter at the
lodge, giving her name as "Irene Iddesleigh."
She must have taken refuge in the little construction planned under her
personal supervision whilst inhabiting Dilworth Castle during her
girlhood, and, haunted with the never-dying desire to visit once more
its lovely grounds, wandered there to die of starvation.
No notice whatever was taken of her death by her son, who obeyed to the
last letter his father's instructions, and carried them out with
tearless pride.
The little narrow bed at the lowest corner on the west side of Seaforde
graveyard was the spot chosen for her remains. Thus were laid to rest
the orphan of Colonel Iddesleigh, the adopted daughter and imagined
heiress of Lord and Lady Dilworth, what might have been the proud wife
of Sir John Dunfern, the unlawful wife of Oscar Otwell, the suicidal
outcast, and the despised and rejected mother.
She who might have swayed society's circle with the sceptre of
nobleness--she who might still have shared in the greatness of her
position and defied the crooked stream of poverty in which she so long
sailed--had she only been, first of all, true to self, then the
honourable name of Sir John Dunfern would have maintained its standard
of pure and noble distinction, without being spotted here and there with
heathenish remarks inflicted by a sarcastic public on the administerer
of proper punishment; then the dignified knight of proud and upright
ancestry would have been spared the pains of incessant insult, the
mockery of equals, the haunted diseases of mental trials, the erring eye
of harshness, and the throbbing twitch of constant criticism.
It was only the lapse of a few minutes after the widowed waif left
Dunfern Mansion until the arrival of her son from London, who, after
bidding his mother quit the grounds owned by him, blotted her name for
ever from his book of memory; and being strongly prejudiced by a father
of faultless bearing, resolved that the sharers of beauty, youth, and
false love should never have the slightest catch on his affections.
The End
* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *
_Errors and Inconsistencies_
The printed book was typeset and proofread more carefully than most
books of similar literary quality. Changes listed in the author's Errata
slip (inserted at the beginning of the book) have been made in the
e-text. Unusual spellings, and inconsistent use of "American" and
"British" forms, are unchanged. Some words occur both with and without
hyphen.
_Errors Noted by Author_
PAGE
82 Read--"was extended him."
154 "senk" should read "_seek_."
156 "took" is unnecessary.
179 Read "which _calls_ it forth."
184 "ofthand" should be "offhand."
_Additional Errors_
The present owner is only son
[_text unchanged: missing "the"?_]
whose pretentions were so cleverly carried out [_spelling unchanged_]
the partakers in drawing-room _tete-a-tetes_
[_text unchanged: expected form is "tete-a-tetes" (circumflex
accent on first "e", no acute on second)_]
the impostury of position is petty [imposury]
"Just seven days and I shall be fettered [_open quote missing_]
tempted with her enhancing beauty
[_text unchanged: error for "entrancing"?_]
If my manner have changed in any way
[_text unchanged: "have" may be correct_]
every care and watchfulness was extended him
[_corrected by author from "were extended him"; "were" is
technically correct_]
This Rachel punctually obeyed.
[_text reads "Rachael": name occurs more than 50 times with
consistent spelling_]
he drew from that drawer" here Sir John pointed to the wardrobe,
"a weapon of warlike design
[_missing punctuation before "here"?_]
[_misplaced open quote: printed as_ wardrobe," a weapon]
she swiftly turned to the door [swifty]
who not alone committed the ruffianous act [ruffainous]
It was only when staring her lover's scanty table fully
[_text unchanged: missing word?_]
the house of the Reverend Bertram Edgar, near by. [near by,]
should extend her the aid she now must seek.
[_corrected by author from "senk"_]
entered the room, and taking her accustomed seat to partake of it,
as best she could.
[_corrected by author from "partake of it, took as best she could":
Author may have intended "... taking her accustomed seat,
partook of it as best she could"._]
which she did in a rather trembling voice,
without betraying such signs of grief as anticipated.
[_text transposes . and , at the end of consecutive lines_]
Being beforehand acquaint with [_text unchanged_]
Which calls it forth, no more to die.
[_corrected by author from "call"_]
Is heard to echo, far and wide, [wide;]
that he married her offhand
[_corrected by author from "ofthand": may have intended "out of
hand"_]