Irene Iddesleigh
As the evening rolled into the small hours of the morning, the numerous
guests began to repair to their respective homes, none of the weaker sex
having had the slightest advancement in the direction of their coveted
intentions, save Irene, who was fortunate in securing the attention of
Sir John Dunfern during the happy hours that fled so quickly.
Immediately before taking his departure he pressed firmly her snowy
hand, and left the pretty-gilded area which surrounded his first hopes
of matrimony to enter what he was beginning to believe the weary
apartments of Dunfern Mansion, that previously had held him bound to
them in hermit-like fashion.
CHAPTER III.
Arouse the seeming deadly creature to that standard of joy and gladness
which should mark his noble path! Endow him with the dewdrops of
affection; cast from him the pangs of the dull past, and stamp them for
ever beneath the waves of troubled waters; brighten his life as thou
wouldst that of a faded flower; and when the hottest ray of that
heavenly orb shall shoot its cheerful charge against the window panes of
Dunfern Mansion, the worthy owner can receive it with true and profound
thankfulness. Three weeks had scarcely passed ere Sir John was made the
recipient of another invitation to Dilworth Castle. This second effusion
of cordiality required neither anxious thought nor prolonged decision
how to act, knowing as he did that it would again serve to bring his
present thoughts into practice by affording him another opportunity of
sharing in the loving looks of one for whom he feared there dwelt a
strong inclination on his part to advance his affection.
Irene stood looking out on the lake beyond the richly draped window,
ruminating on the days of her childhood, which lent a look of dullness
to the beautiful face that beamed with delight as Sir John Dunfern
entered. The evening was very pleasantly and quietly spent, Irene
commanding the greater part of his time and attention, on account of
Lady Dilworth being slightly ailing, whose health, generally speaking,
at this period was not so robust as formerly, and consequently failed to
warrant too many callers. As the clock struck eleven Sir John began to
think of returning home, feeling quite happy, fancying his great
affection was returned in full by Irene.
Being very domesticated, and having the stiff ideas of a bachelor of
long standing so firmly imprinted in his nature, he felt very diffident
in asking the object of his visit when next they should meet. But Lady
Dilworth entering before taking his departure, saved him putting the shy
question by placing herself in his position and demanding the required
reply. Sir John promised without further ceremony to visit them more
frequently in future, and left their midst with hasty step, lingering in
the hall to cast another look at the lovely form which stood not far
distant. Leisurely leaning back in his carriage, and burying himself in
his great and costly cloak demanded by the night's icy aspect, he rolled
along towards his home drowned in sweet thought of the beautiful girl
whom he only recently knew, but whose regard for her raged with such
rambling anxiety as to convince him of the propriety of making her aware
how he meant to play the part of lover.
Until now he was inclined to be prejudiced against the snares and
allurements of women, but he strongly resolved to try gradually and
abandon every unkind thought harboured in his mind against them, fearing
lest all his conjured imaginations were both unjust and selfish; and
determined to drown them for ever in the clashing gulf of fate, felt a
prouder and happier mortal than before.
But time would solve the problem and heal the wound which penetrated so
deeply his bosom. Yea, a short time he hoped would bring his creeping
fever of endearment under the binding stay of appointed authority, and
heal its weakening effects with the sacred salve of truth.
Not until the horses dashed up the winding avenue with increased
alacrity was he shaken from his meditating attitude, to be ushered once
more into his home of boundless wealth. The lonely stare of grave
bewilderment took the place of happiness that formerly seemed built in
abundance for him within its walls, as he entered the palatial and
gorgeously equipped abode he principally inhabited, feeling the tinge of
the dull past filling him with entire despair, whilst meditating on the
happy future which presented itself to him. How in a trivial period this
lonely spot, he thought, should prove the beacon of never-dying bliss,
when once furnished with the most precious treasure on earth--a virtuous
woman! Ah! the very thought of his embosomed and anticipated alliance
made him nervously happy; and believing a bright and noble future lay in
store for the lonely owner of Dunfern Estate, he resolved to indulge
nature in a few hours of calm repose.
The days moved along more quickly Sir John believed than formerly; and
possibly he may have imagined this was so, as he felt no longer fettered
with fear of fighting with his inward friend--obstinacy, whose hand of
drowsy bachelorism seemed for ever closed to his changing charity; he
had at last thrown aside the garb of female dislike, and patronised that
of a warm-hearted lover.
Irene did not lead Lady Dilworth to believe that she really cared for
Sir John, and, when his name cropped up occasionally, she allowed
herself always to keep the coast of conversation clear that would likely
convict her views most, and managed cleverly thereby to deceive the
friend who came not a day too soon to her rescue. Perhaps had Lady
Dilworth proved less concerned about the orphan charge she freed from a
life of toil, apparently, and instructed her more on the branches of
integrity, then the lovely youthful Irene could have decided more
honorably in all cases of questioning, and would have done justice, not
alone to herself, but to all concerned; but, like many others similarly
surrounded with lovers, battling in the war of extremes, and encompassed
on all sides with apparent luxuries, she was confident she would some
day come off victorious by acting the clever Corinthian.
CHAPTER IV.
When on the eve of glory, whilst brooding over the prospects of a bright
and happy future, whilst meditating upon the risky right of justice,
there we remain, wanderers on the cloudy surface of mental woe,
disappointment and danger, inhabitants of the grim sphere of anticipated
imagery, partakers of the poisonous dregs of concocted injustice. Yet
such is life.
Sir John's visits began now to be numerous at Dilworth Castle, each
visit serving further to strengthen the link of relationship, and bury,
in the heaving breast of seeking solace, the dull delight of the weary
past. As the weeks wore on, he reckoned them only as days, when
comparing their loving length with those of the bleak years he tried to
enjoy alone, before taking such steps--yes, serious steps--as those
fancied by the would-be bachelor.
At first he was careless and indifferent to the flowery harangues of
mothers who paid him periodical visits, with their daughters, of
apology, and firmly retained the obstinate qualities of an autocratic
ruler, until softened in the presence of one he found he was learning to
steadily love. He believed now that the chief stripes,
viz.--observation, inclination, advancement and accomplishment, in the
well-spun web of matrimony, must harmonise with the groundwork of
happiness, without which our lives are not worth an unstamped coin.
Love's path, on which Sir John was known now to tread with the step of
intensity, seemed smooth as the ice of Inglewood. There were no
obstacles in his way of which he was yet aware, save imagination; this,
also, was chased from his mind by the evident and ample return of
Irene's polished affection, the foul gloss of which he failed to notice,
and whose pretentions were so cleverly carried out as to defy detection.
Irene was an accomplished and clever girl, and well able to sustain her
hidden regard throughout for one who for years previous had been
endeavouring to remove the great barrier of position which blocked his
path of approach towards her affection. As yet her parentage was totally
unknown to Sir John; still, he felt it must not have belonged to the
rude and ridiculous, since she possessed all the qualities, outwardly,
and features, of a highly refined race. And when only a girl of eleven
summers, when the worthy hand of benevolence, friendship, and love
clutched the tiny fingers of absolute want, there visibly seemed nothing
lacking in appearance, manner, or education to solicit the pity or
suspicion of her charitable guardian and protector.
Sir John Dunfern's many visits of late to Dilworth Castle had been
creating quite a sensation throughout the quiet corners of costly
curiosity, until an announcement appeared in _Mack's Society Journal_ to
the following effect:--
"A marriage is arranged to take place in August between Sir John
Dunfern, of Dunfern Mansion, County Kent, and Irene Iddesleigh, adopted
daughter of Lord and Lady Dilworth, of Dilworth Castle, in same county."
This notice, no doubt, caused the partakers in drawing-room
_tete-a-tetes_ to share in the pangs of jealousy, with silent
resentment. Perplexity, a little, would find refuge within the homes of
many who led Society by the string of superficial show and pompous
importance; and during the interval that elapsed between such an
announcement and its important celebration, many and infamous were the
charges poured forth against Irene Iddesleigh.
The month preceding Irene's wedding was one of merriment at Dilworth
Castle, Lord and Lady Dilworth extending the social hand of fashionable
folly on four different occasions. They seemed drunk with delight that
Irene, whom they looked upon as their own daughter, should carry off the
palm of purity, whilst affluence, position, and title were for years
waiting with restless pride to triumph at its grasp.
It was at the second of these social gatherings that the first seed of
jealousy was sown within the breast of Sir John Dunfern, and which had a
tendency to remain until it gradually grew to such a rapid state of
maturity as to be rooted, if possible, for ever from its dusty bed of
ambush.
Yes, when the merriment was at its height, and the heat too oppressive
to allow much comfort to the corpulent, the espoused of Irene dropped
unexpectedly out of the midst of the aristocratic throng, and being
passionately an ardent admirer of the fairy-like fruits of the efforts
of the horticulturist, directed his footsteps towards the well-filled
conservatory at the south wing of the building.
The different-shaded lights which dangled from its roof bestowed a look
of Indian exquisiteness on the many quaint and delicate productions of
nature that rested daintily in their beds of terra-cotta tint.
But before leaving the room he vaguely scanned the throng to catch a
glimpse of Irene, and failed to notice her amongst the many who danced
so gaily to the well-timed tunes of the celebrated pianist, Charles
Wohden, whose musical touch was always capable of melting the most
hardened sinner into moods of mellow softness, or cheering the most
downcast and raising their drooping look of sadness to that of
high-strung hilarity.
Sir John wandered in and out through the numerous windings of sweetest
fragrance, until arriving at the farthest corner, of rather darkened
shade, and on a wire couch beheld the object of his pursuit, in closest
conversation with her tutor, whose name he had altogether failed to
remember, only having had the pleasure of his acquaintance a few hours
before.
"Can it be possible?" exclaimed Sir John, in profound astonishment.