Irene Iddesleigh
the bed on which his beloved lay, and knelt beside it to fervently offer
up a prayer "for the speedy recovery of her who was the chief object of
his existence." Raising himself up and clasping his darling in his arms,
he whispered in her ear a word of encouragement, and gently laying her
highly-heated head on the silken pillow he again prayed, in deepest and
gravest earnestness, "that she might be spared only a little longer."
No doubt his prayer was no sooner offered than answered, as she at this
stage slightly rallied, and appeared somewhat strengthened. Day by day
the still fond and loving husband sat by the bedside of the invalid
until strong enough to battle fully against the weakening hand of her
malady; and at the very time Sir John sat beside the bed of sickness,
inwardly "showering blame upon himself for hindering his wife's social
enjoyment, and for which he believed he acted wrongly;" she, on the
contrary, was outwardly pouring rebuke on her own head "for ever
entering into a league of life-long punishment by marrying a man she
simply abhorred, and leaving her noble and well-learned tutor, Oscar
Otwell, whom she yet loved, to wander in a world of blighted bliss!"
Ah! to be sure! It was during these days of unremitting attention that
he was afforded an opportunity of storing up a multitude of touchy
remarks uttered by his wife when the relapse of raging fever reached its
defiant height! She never ceased to talk in a most gentle manner of
"Oscar Otwell," "her darling and much-loved tutor." She even expressed
sorrow, in the course of her broken remarks, "at the false step she had
taken to satisfy, not herself by any means, but Lady Dilworth!" She
strongly protested her "hatred for him" who sat listening, with grave
intensity, to every word that escaped her lips! She even spoke of
"a cavity in her jewel-case in which was safely deposited a ring, given
her by Oscar during her happy period of instruction under his guidance,"
adding, in her painful discourse, that "she loved it as well as
himself," etc., etc.
These rambling statements when ended, in an instant caused Sir John's
resolutions, made by him so recently, to become worthless remarks; and
if partly charged with jealousy before, he was doubly so now.
No onlooker could fail in the least to pity the sneered husband, whose
livid countenance during the course of her remarks, rambling though they
were, was a sight never to be forgotten. How he gazed with astonished
indifference at the invalid so charged with deceit! She who acted the
emblem of innocence at all times, and attempted to attach entire blame
to her husband! She who partly promised peace in future to him who never
again could enjoy it!
How his manner became so abrupt and his speech so scanty within such a
short period was verily a proof of the belief he fostered relative to
his wife's statements, which were yet to her unknown.
The doctors in attendance endeavoured strongly to imprint upon Sir John
the fact that "such remarks as those uttered by his wife should be
treated with silence and downright indifference," adding that "patients
smitten with fever, of what kind soever, were no more responsible for
their sayings than the most outrageous victim to insanity."
Sir John listened attentively to their statements, but failed to be
altogether convinced as to their truth. Wondering what sin could be
attached to an act he felt was his duty to perform, he moved softly to
the bedside of his wife, and being in a sleepy mood, he resolved to sift
some of her remarks to the very bottom.
Entering the room she so often occupied, and taking from a chink in her
dressing-table a key of admittance to the jewel-case she spoke of, he
lost no time in viewing its valuable contents; and, in the very spot in
which she vowed dwelt her tutor's gift, there it lay! A golden band with
pearl centre, and immediately underneath it there rested a note. At
first he felt rather diffident about perusing its contents, but instinct
so prompted his curiosity that he yielded to its tempting touch. It ran
thus:--
"Hedley,
Berks,
July 3rd.
"Ever beloved Irene,
"I am after reading your gentle yet sorrowful epistle. You cannot
possibly retract the step you so publicly have taken without
incurring the malice of Lord and Lady Dilworth, who have sheltered
you from every sorrow and care with which you otherwise were bound
to come in contact.
"They received you into their elegant home, and shielded you,
by so doing, from the tyrannical rule of Miss Lamont of 'The
Orphanage,' in which you were placed for a period of eight years.
They failed not to give you a thorough and practical education,
which in itself would enable you to achieve independence, if
necessary, or so desired.
"This you received under one whose heart now beats with raging
jealousy and vehement hatred towards the object of Lady Dilworth's
choice, being well convinced, through your numerous letters to me
lately, it never was yours.
"Dearest Irene, the thought of parting from you for ever is partly
sustained with the hope of yet calling you mine! Through time you
suggest an elopement, which as yet can only be viewed in the hazy
distance; but it seems quite clear to me, dearest, and surely
evident, that you abhor the very name of him who a month hence
shall place you in a position considerably more elevated and
lucrative than that which I now could bestow. But Irene, my
beloved, my all! reluctantly I yield my precious treasure to him
who, it may be this moment, is rejoicing at his capture.
"I shall ever remain forlorn, dejected, and ruined until such time
as we suitably can accomplish the clearance of the cloud of
dissatisfaction under which you are about to live. Please write by
return.
"Ever your own
"OSCAR.
"Miss Iddesleigh,
Dilworth Castle."
CHAPTER X.
When dreading the light of day contentment hath fled; imagination
oftentimes proves a forerunner to reality; corners of horror shelter
themselves within the castles of the queenly, the palaces of the
powerful, the monuments of the mighty, and the cottages of the
caretaker; but sunshine brings universal joy wherever its beams are wont
to dazzle, and often allays the anxiety which precedes its appearance.
"Great heaven!" murmured Sir John, as the tutor's note fell from his
nervous grasp, "Am I blind to touch or truth? Am I at last to labour
under the fact that my wife loves another! she who only some months
since protested her innocence in such strains as to cause the most
doubtful to stay alarm. Here is the ring, and there lies the note--the
note of him who claims to be not only her tutor but suitor. Why did she
accept the former or cause the latter to be written?"
"Then, the date! Just one month exactly before our marriage; and how I
pined for it to elapse whilst another would eagerly have prolonged it.
Oh, Irene!--false and low woman! Think you that any longer I can own you
as wife or treat you with the respect a wife deserves!" Sir John, ever
open to forgiveness, tried hard to master the dreadful spirit of
jealousy which arrived at last at its highest point, if he could feel
convinced that his wife's correspondence with her tutor ceased after her
marriage, believing if still it continued that other proofs of their
dastardly plots would be forthcoming. Thrusting his hand again into the
aperture from which he took the two tributes of his wife's tutor, there
appeared nothing to arouse further suspicion, save a Christmas card,
written with the same bold hand. The lines were these:--
"Accept my warmest greeting, friendship, love,
Thou art my charming Irene, pet and dove;
Although another claims thee for a time,
I trust to call you some day ever mine.
Oh! pray for parting soon with fettered chains,
To live and move regardless of those reins
That bind your Christmas sprigs of worldly woe
To him, whom you have hated long ago."
This was a second effusion of Otwell's, and must have been received by
Lady Dunfern since her marriage; and, thought he who held it clutched in
his trembling hand, Why did she deposit this card amongst her
valuables--had she not held it as a treasure of priceless worth?
Nothing more was wanting now to convince the distracted husband of his
wife's infidelity. Depositing the note, card, and ring in the drawer
whence he had taken them, Sir John at once proceeded to Lady Dunfern's
bedroom, and found her awake. Being a nobleman of sterling worth, and
one on whose word the greatest dependence was always manifested, he
could scarcely fail to inform her of the great and trying scene he had
just come through. Struggling, however, manfully from mentioning
anything that would serve to retard her recovery, he moved towards the
bed on which she lay, and before a word was uttered by him he suddenly
staggered and fell.
Who could then perceive the wan and haggard appearance of him who
apparently lay lifeless without being totally terror-stricken--could
she, whom he bathed in golden comfort, behold this outstretched form
with calm silence? Surely not!
Instantly ordering a maid to send for Doctor Doherty, the false invalid
lay back on her pillow, appearing not much concerned. On the doctor's
arrival he applied restoratives, but without the desired effect. Then he
ordered his instant removal to his bed-chamber, where every care and
watchfulness was extended him by Rachel Hyde.
It was nearly two hours ere he manifested the remotest symptoms of
animation, and on inquiry the doctor pronounced the sudden shock he had
nervously sustained to be grave indeed. Sir John lay in an unconscious
condition until next morning, when his first inquiry was relative to his
son.
Gradually regaining strength, and venturing in the doctor's absence out
of bed, he walked slowly into his wife's room to make personal his
recovery. He looked pale, and much annoyed, and could only with
difficulty refrain from acquainting her of what he had in store to
communicate. Each day found both invalids, just and unjust, rapidly
recovering, and a few weeks found both completely restored to health and
strength.
Lady Dunfern could not help noticing the strange and frozen manner of
her husband since the eve of his illness. At first she was inclined to
fear his approach, but gradually she felt convinced he was slightly
affected with a mild form of insanity; and making minute inquiries from
the oldest inhabitants in the neighbourhood and adjoining village as to
the accuracy of her fears, she was informed that "such never existed
amongst his ancestors, so far as they knew or heard."
Was it strange that Sir John felt a changed man towards her who was so
fully charged with deceit? Would it have been acting in accordance with
his conscience to overlook her wily artifice? Could the once fond and
loving husband, the brave and gallant knight, still trust in her whom he
felt convinced would bring a world of disgrace, not alone upon himself,
but upon one who in after years, he trusted, would proudly sustain the
honourable reputation of his race?
Ah! no matter in what light he viewed her conduct now he was brought to
loathe her very look, and was fully determined to shut her in from the
gaze of an outside world, or the cunning tricks of a trifling tutor. He
was resolved, so far as lay in his power, to treat her with the conduct
she merited, and never again allow himself to be persuaded to postpone
the visitation of his anger by her villainous pitiful appeals.
After serious thought, Sir John began to act; he was inclined to think
delay would be dangerous, and on approaching his breakfast table one