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Irene Iddesleigh

<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> 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. 80 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:— <div class = "verse"> “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.” </div> 81 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! 82 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 <ins class = "authcorr" title = "corrected by author from ‘were’">was</ins> 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 83 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 84 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 morning soon after his recovery, he hinted to his housekeeper that he “wished a private interview with her after his morning repast.” This <ins class = "mycorr" title = "text reads ‘Rachael’ (name occurs more than 50 times with consistent spelling)">Rachel</ins> 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. 85 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 mycorr, 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 <ins class = "mycorr" title = "text unchanged: missing punctuation?">drawer” here </ins>Sir John pointed to the <ins class = "mycorr" title = "text has misplaced open quote: wardrobe,’ a">wardrobe, “a</ins> 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 86 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 87 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, 88 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. 89 “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 90 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 91 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. <ANTIMG src = "images/pg91.png" width = "165" height = "52" alt = "decoration"> 92   <ANTIMG src = "images/pg138.png" width = "428" height = "54" alt = "decoration"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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