Irene Iddesleigh
morning soon after his recovery, he hinted to his housekeeper that he
"wished a private interview with her after his morning repast." This
Rachel punctually obeyed.
Seeing her master's trembling hand twitch the tips of his beard, she
feared something dreadful must surely be disturbing his peace of mind,
and commanding her to "lock the door" lest they should be interrupted,
he informed her of all that had happened.
Rachel, ever ready to sow doubt in the mind of her master regarding his
wife, manifested her want of surprise by relating some incidents which
occurred under her notice. Nothing, however monstrous, could astonish
Sir John at this time regarding his wife's movements, and informing
Rachel of his intention he ordered the key of one of the rooms that yet
had been shut against the entrance of Lady Dunfern.
Hastening to fulfil her master's order, Rachel returned with the mighty
key, and handed it to Sir John, who moved to the door, and thrusting the
rusty key into its aperture, succeeded with great difficulty in
effecting an entrance. Rachel followed, and both entered, locking the
heavy-panelled oak door from within. "This," said Sir John, "is the room
of correction, the room of death. It defies escape or secretion. It has
been so long as I remember held in abhorrence by my late lamented
parents, and, so far as I can understand, by many of my ancestors.
"First of all, the lady who shared its midst was a born imbecile, the
eldest daughter of my great great grandfather--Sir Sydney Dunfern. She
was nursed and tenderly cared for within these walls for a period of
thirty-six years, and through the instantaneous insanity of her ward,
was marked a victim for his murderous hand. Yes, it has been related
that during midnight, when she was fast asleep, he drew from that
drawer" here Sir John pointed to the wardrobe, "a weapon of warlike
design, and severed her head almost from her body, causing instant
death.
"It was not known until next day about noon that anything extraordinary
had happened. It was first detected by Sir Sydney himself, who became
alarmed at not having seen Wade--the ward's name was Hector Wade--as
usual at ten o'clock, and tapping at the door, was surprised to hear
some noise issue from within. Being of a hasty temper, he became
indignant at the ward's indifference, and calling loudly, finally gained
admittance.
"The murderer had her stretched on this floor, and every article capable
of being removed piled upon her corpse. Horrified at such a sight, Sir
Sydney became wild with grief, and at once handed the pitiful lunatic
over to those in authority.
"The next inhabitant doomed to share in its dull delight was Kathleen,
wife of my beloved grandfather, a beautiful woman, whose portrait you
now see. She, I am sorry to relate, proved more an accomplice than the
honoured wife of him who added so much to the welfare of those who now
benefit by his great economy. The hand of death visited her here
likewise with its separating touch.
"The last person inhabiting its cheerless enclosure was a distant
relative of my mother, a gentleman named Rodney Rupert, who fell from
the path of virtue and trod the field of vice, until confined within
this prison of pathetic account, and who, in a moment of passion, ended
his days with that pistol which hangs on yonder hook, and on that bed
all these lay, and which shall again be made use of by a traitoress of
no mean account either."
Sir John then proceeded to give orders to "have the room made as
comfortable as its scanty furniture permitted," which consisted only of
one small table, one chair, and an old-fashioned wardrobe, with several
small drawers attached, one dressing-table and wash-stand, all of which
were magnificently carved oak and richly panelled.
There was only one large window, made up of iron bars and a multitude of
small panes of glass not larger than three inches square, all of equal
dimensions, and inside this window were strong bars of iron looped on
every side and firmly fastened.
The cocoa matting which served as a carpet, parts of which were grim
with gore, was almost worn past recognition. These were all the articles
this badly-lighted room contained, save several oil-paintings of
enormous size. On the whole, it presented the appearance of a private
prison.
An icy atmosphere pervaded throughout the room, damped with an odour of
something inert, which Sir John believed would be rendered extinct in
the presence of a fire.
Rachel, after receiving orders in confidence from her master, set
matters to right by lighting a fire, dusting the old and much-worn
furniture, airing the bed-clothes, etc., being strictly charged to
admit, on no pretence whatever, now or at any time, any member of the
household or visitor to the mansion.
When everything was in perfect readiness for the reception of its guest,
Sir John directed Rachel to "bring her Ladyship into his presence." What
could have astonished Lady Dunfern more on being ushered into a room
which never before was open for her inspection? Nothing save the
information her husband eagerly awaited her to receive. On being
informed of her vast deception, which was proved beyond doubt, and to
which she felt wholly incompetent to reply, she was absolutely
dumb-stricken.
It required no further questioning now concerning her husband's recent
strangeness of manner and rigid coolness with which he was forced to
treat her whom he scorned to call wife.
"You, madam," said he, "have by your conduct, both before and after
marriage, forced me to keep you a prisoner within these walls so long as
you live or I exist.
"You have not failed to act the infamous by kissing me with the lips of
a Judas! You have at last plunged me into deepest disgrace, not alone
me, but him whom you should have been liberated to succour and chastise.
Mocking wretch! your foul deeds shall have plenty of scope here for
improvement, and a prisoner you shall be during the remainder of your
life."
Sir John, without another word, glided from before the presence of her
who once was treated as a goddess by him, and turning the great key that
locked her for ever from his view, handed it to Rachel, who was to have
sole admittance to, and full charge of, his wife.
When left to herself in the ghostly and spacious closet of crippled
right, which until now she never dare approach, Lady Dunfern, instead of
shewing signs of grief, which Sir John felt assured must burst from its
midst, gloried in being aloof from the occasional rebukes to which she
was subject whilst occupying the rooms free to her access. She would now
have full opportunity of guiding her thoughts to self-advantage or
disadvantage. She felt free to try and act as she in any case would have
done, regarding very little the shame brought on her husband by her
intrigue with the tutor, whom she simply idolized, never once casting a
thought on her infant, knowing well it would be passionately cared for.
Oceans of thought took hold on her as she vacantly viewed the damp and
darkened walls of her monstrous cell, now and then moving forward to
inspect the many paintings of great and historic worth which hung from
their lofty support, mostly all more or less resembling him who probably
should ere long add to their number.
Lady Dunfern allowed the weeks and months to pass unheeded until
afforded ample opportunity of resorting to some means that might not
alone free her from such death-like surroundings, but snap the chain of
obligation in two which presently connected her with a husband she cared
not for.
She longed for the hour of flight from the dismal shelter under which
she was doomed to dwell. She yearned for the days that had fled, and
more so for her who had shared in their pleasure. She pined for him whom
she so long lived to adore, and hesitated not to do so still.
Could she only acquaint him of her husband's cruelty, how he might
assist her in effecting her release. What could be done, she frequently
asked herself, to brighten her future only a little?
Could she possibly escape? She feared not.
Every two hours that villainous woman entered during the day since first
she was snared in the net of revenge and compelled to remain within its
enclosures of shivering fear. Still, she never lost hope of flight, and
cheered with the thought of future stratagem, she tried to remain
somewhat consoled.
CHAPTER XI.
The trickling tide of fortune sometimes ebbs slowly. It meets with
occasional barriers of boisterous worth, and reaches its haven of intent
too often with obstruction. Its waters drip on the proud and humble, the
mighty and pitiful, the meek and unholy, and refuse to overlook even the
weary and careworn confined in the cell. It ceases not to store within
its waters of wonder intricate windings of wealth and poverty, triumph
and torture, joy and misery, and does not hesitate at any time to safely
deposit its various burthens on the numerous beaches along which it must
pass.
When almost a year of Lady Dunfern's private imprisonment was about
drawing to a close, she was beginning to partly believe the truth of her
husband's dogmatic remarks. She had strongly been endeavouring during
this time to arrive at some possible means of communication with Marjory
Mason, her much-loved maid, whose services Sir John still retained; but
every endeavour she yet formed proved absolutely vain. She often thought
had she been attended by any of the household staff, only her on whom
she never could dream to rely, she might have made good her escape long
since; but being watched and visited so regularly by Rachel Hyde, she
felt her task much more difficult of performance than at first imagined.
Sometimes she would bring her table close to the window and mount on its
shaky leaf, then step into the great window-sill, pull out her
handkerchief and rub the puny panes to try and catch a glimpse of nature
and probably chance to see some of the servants pass.
This heavily-barred window stood considerably high, and if viewed from a
distance, or even from the ground adjacent, seemed small in consequence.
It was, therefore, very difficult for her to recognise one menial from
another, yet she often imagined she could not be mistaken in perceiving
a form in the garden, right opposite, that surely strongly resembled her
favourite maid.
What course was she, then, to adopt in order to discover the accuracy of
her thoughts? How could she manage to be positive regarding Marjory's
appearance? She felt it almost miraculous to identify her who trod so
far beneath her heightened gaze. Each day she resolved to mount the
window at the same hour, believing her constant watching might through
time convince her who the object of her anxiety might be.
But the distance between them still remained the same, and ended with
the same disappointing result. A thought at last crowned her precious
efforts. She fancied if she could succeed in breaking one of the small
window panes she could, with the aid of a telescope found in one of the
drawers, define exactly who the maid might chance to be.
The same hour each day found the eager mistress and anxious maid in
their respective places, the former mounted on the window-sill, the
latter gazing pitifully towards the window of her mistress's hateful
cell. But discernment was altogether impossible for Lady Dunfern, who
was resolved not to be baffled much longer in ascertaining who the
constant visitor was. Snapping from her finger an exquisite diamond
ring, and studying which pane of glass would be least noticed, she
arrived at the wise conclusion of extracting the lowest corner pane,
which she cleverly and effectually succeeded in doing. Wondering, first
of all, how she would hide the opening from the cute eye of her who