Irene Iddesleigh
purchased Ayrtown Estate, whilst the lot of Howden fell upon Sir Rowland
Joyce, the famous historian and national bard.
Thus were wrested from Lord and Lady Dilworth their luxurious living.
They were driven from their nursery of rich and complicated comforts,
their castle of indolence and ease. They were now thrown upon the
shivering waters of want, without a word of sympathy in the dreadful
hour of their great affliction, without home or friend to extend shelter
or sustenance, and cast afloat upon the ocean of oscillating chance to
speed across it as best they could.
Was Lord Dilworth therefore to be pitied? Were the torrents of gold
which were bound to trickle from these enormous lands and dwellings,
manufactories and villages, too trifling for his use? Not a morsel of
pity was offered either him or Lady Dilworth as their circumstances
became known in the homes of their associates, who so often fed on the
fat of their folly and graced their well-lined tables always covered
with dainties of deserving censure.
Could human mind contemplate that she who reigned supreme amongst
society, she who gave the ball in honor of Irene Iddesleigh's marriage,
should ere four days be a penniless pauper? Yet such was fact, not
fiction.
The seventh day of August saw Lord and Lady Dilworth titled beggars,
steering their course along the blue and slippery waves of the Atlantic,
to be participators in the loathing poverty which always exists in homes
sought after destruction, degradation, and reckless extravagance.
So soon may the house of gladness and mirth be turned into deepest
grief! How the wealthiest, through sheer folly, are made to drink the
very essence of poverty and affliction in its purest form! How the
golden dust of luxury can be blown about with the wind of events, and is
afterwards found buried in the fields of industry and thrift! Their
names, which were as a household word, would now be heard no more, and
should sink into abject silence and drowned renown, leaving them to
battle against the raging war of ruin and hunger, and retire into
secluded remorse.
On the return of Sir John and Lady Dunfern from their honeymoon, after
four weeks sojourn, what was her ladyship's consternation on perceiving
Dilworth Castle in darkness as she and Sir John swept past its avenue on
their way to their own brilliantly-lighted mansion? She was rather more
taciturn on the night of her return than even during her stay in
Florence, and it was only on her approaching her former place of
temporary retreat and touchy remembrances that words began to fall from
her ruby lips in torrents.
"Tell me, I implore of you, Sir John and husband, why the once blithe
and cheerful spot of peace is now apparently a dismal dungeon on the
night of our home-coming, when all should have been a mass of dazzling
glow and splendour?
"Can it be that she who proffered such ecstacy for months before, on the
eve of our return, is now no more? or can it be possible that we have
crossed each other on the wide waters of tossing triumph or wanton woe?
"Speak at once, for pity's sake! and do not hide from me the answer of
truth and honest knowledge? Oh, merciful heavens!"
Here Lady Dunfern drooped her head before Sir John got time to even
answer a word, and drawing from his pocket a silver flask, proceeded to
open its contents, when the horses suddenly stopped, and a gentle hand
politely opened the carriage door to eagerly await the exit of his
master and future mistress from its cushioned corners of costly comfort
and ease.
"Tom," cried Sir John, in great and rending agony, "kindly wait for a
few minutes, as her ladyship has been frightfully overcome only a short
time ago by the blank appearance in and around Dilworth Castle. She
fears something dreadful must surely have happened Lady Dilworth in her
absence, since she has failed to make the occasion of our home-coming a
merry torchlight of rejoicing." Tom, who had been in Sir John's service
for the past twenty years, was about to testify to the truth of his
remarks, when he was joined by other members of the household, who
rushed to welcome their beloved master home once more, accompanied by
his beautiful bride, of whom they all had heard so much.
Sir John saw that delay was dangerous, and helping to remove his darling
Irene from the seat on which she unconsciously reclined, succeeded in
placing her on a low couch in the very room he so often silently prayed
for her presence. Bathing her highly-heated temples with a sprinkling of
cooling liquid concealed in his flask, Sir John lost no time in
summoning the village doctor, who, on arrival, pronounced Lady Dunfern
to have slightly recovered, and giving the necessary orders left the
room.
It was fully two hours ere she partly recovered from her ghastly swoon,
to find herself the object of numerous onlookers of the household of
which she was now future mistress.
Pale and death-like did she appear in the eyes of her husband, who was
utterly overcome with grief at the sudden collapse of his wife under
such a stroke of anticipated sorrow; and more grieved was he still when
he found on inquiry that the removal of Lord and Lady Dilworth from
their heightened haunt of highborn socialism must sooner or later be
revealed to her, who, as yet, had only tasted partly of the bitter cup
of divided intercourse and separated companionship.
Many, many were the questions asked by Lady Dunfern relative to Lady
Dilworth when Dr. Corbett arrived next morning to pronounce her almost
recovered, and, strange, yet true, that no one could possibly have
humoured her in such a manner to warrant recovery as the village doctor,
until she felt really strong enough to battle against the sorrowful tale
of woe with which Sir John should shortly make her cognisant.
On learning from his lips, so soon as her ability occasioned, the real
state of affairs concerning the emigrants who were now compelled to
wander on the track of trouble, she received the truth with awe and
smothered distress. The new sphere in which Lady Dunfern was about to
move seemed to her strange; the binding duty which tied her firmly to
honour and obedience was kept prominently in vague view; the staff of
menials would probably find the rules of her husband more in accordance
with their wishes than those which she was beginning to already arrange.
She commenced her married life with falsehood, and she was fully
determined to prove this feature more and more as the weeks and months
rolled along. She was not now afraid of the censure of one whose face
she may never more behold, and who was the sole instigation of plunging
her into a union she inwardly abhorred. Perhaps, had she never been
trained under the loving guidance of Oscar Otwell, her revered tutor,
she would only have been too eager to proclaim her ecstacy at her
present position more vigorously. But all fetters of power were visibly
broken which she wished should remain united, leaving her mother of her
future premeditated movements.
As time moved on, Sir John and Lady Dunfern seemed to differ daily in
many respects, which occasioned dislike in the breasts of both, and
caused the once handsome, cheerful face of the much-respected owner of
Dunfern to assume a look of seriousness.
These differences arose chiefly through his great disinclination to
attend the numerous social gatherings which awaited them after their
marriage. Sir John, finding it almost impossible to stare socialism in
the face, seemed inclined rather to stick to the old rule of domestic
enjoyment, never forgetting to share fully his cheerful conversation
with his wife, when so desired, which, sorrowful to relate, was too
seldom.
Now that Lady Dunfern was an acknowledged branch of society, her elegant
presence would have been courted by all those who so often favoured Lady
Dilworth with their distinguished patronage, but her social hopes being
nipped in the bud by her retiring husband, she dare not resent, and
determined, in consequence, to make herself an object of dislike in her
home, and cherish her imprisoned thoughts until released, for good or
evil.
CHAPTER VIII.
A word of warning tends to great advantage when issued reverently from
the lips of the estimable. It serves to allay the danger pending on
reticence, and substantiates in a measure the confidence which has
hitherto existed between the parties concerned. Again, a judicious
advice, extended to the stubborn and self-willed, proves futile, and
incurs the further malice and fiery indignation of the regardless, the
reckless, and the uncharitable.
Lady Dunfern began now to grow both cross and careless, and seemed not
to interest herself so much (since her propositions were so emphatically
denounced by her husband) concerning the management of the household
staff. She grew daily more retired, and often has her conduct been so
preposterously strange as to cause alarm both to Sir John and all over
whom he had immediate control.
Indeed, three months of married life scarcely elapsed until she cast a
glow of despair within the breast which too often heaved for her with
true piety and love. And what was meant by such strange conduct on her
part, her husband often wondered. Only the mighty cessation of
friendship caused by the flight of her beloved guardians, never
attributing such silence and stubbornness to any fault he justly
committed.
Yes, the duped husband, when being fished for with the rod of seeming
simplicity and concealed character, and quickly caught on the hook of
ingenuity, with deception for a bait, was altogether unable to fathom
its shallowest meaning. Was he not, therefore, to be sympathised with,
who so charitably extended the hand of honour and adoration to the
offspring of unknown parents, and placed her in position equal to any
lady of title and boasted parentage within the boundary of County Kent?
Should Sir John Dunfern not have been almost worshipped by a wife whose
binding duty it was to reverence her husband in all things pertaining to
good? No doubt this would have been so had he gained the affections he
imagined he possessed, but later on he would inevitably be made aware of
matters which as yet only bordered on supposition.
Day after day Lady Dunfern pined like a prisoner in her boudoir, and
scarcely ever shared a word with the great and good Sir John, who many
times wished in former days that she had occupied his home and all its
joys. She formed an inward resolution that if prohibited from enjoying
life, to which she was accustomed at Dilworth Castle, she would make her
husband, whom she knew too well made her his idol, feel the smart, by
keeping herself aloof from his caresses as much as possible.
Often would he be found half asleep in deep thought, not having any
friend of immediate intimacy in whom he could confide or trust, or to
whom he could unbosom the conduct of his wife, whose actions now he was
beginning to detest.
The thoughts of disappointment and shame were building for themselves a
home of shelter within him--disappointment on account of cherished hopes
which unmistakably were crushed to atoms beneath the feet of her who was
the sole instigation of their origin; shame, in all probability, lest
the love he sought and bought with the price of self might not be his
after all! and may still be reserved against his right and kept for
another much less worthy! The little jealous spark again revived and
prompted him to renew its lustre, which had been hidden for a length of
time behind the cloud of dread so silently awaiting the liberty of
covering the hill of happiness.
Quietly ruminating over his wife's manner before marriage, about which
he was compelled, through observation, to demand an explanation, and