The thickest stroke of sadness can be effaced in an instant, and
substituted with deeper traces of joy. The heart of honest ages, though
blackened at times with domestic troubles, rejoices when those troubles
are surmounted with blessings which proclaim future happiness.
On the tenth day of June, following Lady Dunfern's interview with her
husband, she gave birth to a son and heir. This great event brought with
it entire forgiveness on the part of Sir John of his wife's recent
conduct. It served for a short time only, a trivial portion too, to
stifle the alienation which existed between them, and to heal the sore
of evident separation that marred their happiness for months before.
The glad and happy father was only too eager now to snatch a smile from
his wife's face, and anxious was he to bury any little obstacle that may
have existed in the past, and expel it for ever from its lurking corner
of tempting repose. He saw that Lady Dunfern's life was hanging by a
flimsy hair, and who could, for an instant, depict the great despair of
her husband when told that all hope must be abandoned!
The frantic father wrung his hands in a frenzy of momentary madness, and
in spite of authoritative advice he timidly moved in the direction of
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."