Carmelita Fox
Prismatic Sparx
Gems: 12132
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#6 Posted: 19:57:49 19/08/2019
CHAPTER I.
Sympathise with me, indeed! Ah, no! Cast your sympathy on the chill
waves of troubled waters; fling it on the oases of futurity; dash it
against the rock of gossip; or, better still, allow it to remain within
the false and faithless bosom of buried scorn.
Such were a few remarks of Irene as she paced the beach of limited
freedom, alone and unprotected. Sympathy can wound the breast of trodden
patience,--it hath no rival to insure the feelings we possess, save that
of sorrow.
The gloomy mansion stands firmly within the ivy-covered, stoutly-built
walls of Dunfern, vast in proportion and magnificent in display. It has
been built over three hundred years, and its structure stands
respectably distant from modern advancement, and in some degrees it
could boast of architectural designs rarely, if ever, attempted since
its construction.
The entrance to this beautiful home of Sir Hugh Dunfern, the present
owner, is planned on most antique principles; nothing save an enormous
iron gate meets the gaze of the visitor, who at first is inclined to
think that all public rumours relative to its magnificence are only the
utterances of the boastful and idle; nor until within its winding paths
of finest pebble, studded here and there with huge stones of unpolished
granite, could the mind for a moment conceive or entertain the faintest
idea of itsquaint grandeur.
Beautiful, owever, as Dunfern mansion may seem to the anxious eye of
the beholder, yet it is not altogether free from mystery. Whilst many of
its rooms, with walls of crystal, are gorgeously and profusely
furnished, others are locked incessantly against the foot of the
cautious intruder, having in them only a few traditional relics of no
material consequence whatever, or even interest, to any outside the
ancestral line of its occupants.
It has often been the chief subject of comment amongst the few
distinguished visitors welcomed within its spacious apartments, why
seemingly the finest rooms the mansion owned were always shut against
their eager and scrutinizing gaze; or why, when referred to by any of
them, the matter was always treated with silence.
All that can now be done is merely to allow the thought to dwindle into
bleak oblivion, until aroused to that standard of disclosure which
defies hindrance.
Within the venerable walls surrounding this erection of amazement and
wonder may be seen species of trees rarely, if ever, met with; yea,
within the beaded borders of this grand old mansion the eye of the
privileged beholds the magnificent lake, studded on every side with
stone of costliest cut and finish; the richest vineries, the most
elegant ferns, the daintiest conservatories, the flowers and plants of
almost every clime in abundance, the most fashionable walks, the most
intricate windings that imagination could possibly conceive or genius
contrive. In fact, it has well been named "The Eden of Luxury."
Dunfern mansion was handed down as an heirloom since its purchase by
Walter, third Earl of Dunfern, in 1674; and since then has been tenderly
cared for internally, and carefully guarded externally, by the skilful
hands of noted artisans. The present owner is only son of Sir John
Dunfern, by Irene, adopted daughter of Lord and Lady Dilworth, of
Dilworth Castle, County Kent.
CHAPTER II.
The December sun had hidden its dull rays behind the huge rocks that
rose monstrously high west of Dunfern mansion, and ceased to gladden the
superb apartment Sir John occupied most part of the day. They had
withdrawn their faint reflection from within the mirrored walls of this
solitary chamber to brighten other homes with their never-dying sheen.
As the dull, grey evening advanced to such a degree as to render a look
of brightness imperative to the surroundings of its sole occupant, Sir
John requested that his favourite apartment should be made bright as
possible by adding more fuel to the smouldering ashes within the
glistening bars which guarded their remains. This being done, three huge
lamps were lighted, and placed at respectable distances from each other,
when Sir John, with his accustomed grace, began to peruse some of his
evening papers.
Though a man of forty summers, he never yet had entertained the thought
of yielding up his bacheloric ideas to supplace them with others which
eventually should coincide with those of a different sex; in fact,
he never had bestowed a thought on changing his habits and manner of
living, nor until fully realising his position of birthright, that had
been treasured by his ancestors for such a lengthened period, and which,
sooner or later, must pass into strangers' hands, did the thought ever
occur to him of entering into the league of the blessed.
The clock hd just chimed nine when a maid entered with a note, neatly
laid on a trim little tray, which she placed on the table close beside
her master, and then retired. It was rather unusual for him to receive
letters so late in the evening, nor until he was in full possession of
its contents he could not form the faintest imagination of its worth.
Not far from Dunfern Mansion may be seen situated on a rising hill the
beautiful Castle of Lord and Lady Dilworth, a prominent building
commanding the finest view in the county. It had been remodelled by the
present owner, after inheriting it from his late maternal uncle--Lord
Leyburn; and, although equipped with all modern improvements and
inventions necessary, yet there dwelt a lack of design and beauty about
it possessed by Dunfern Mansion.
The bountiful owner of Dilworth Castle differed much in many respects
from Sir John Dunfern. He was a nobleman of rare tact and capacities;
a keen sportsman; a Turf frequenter; an ardent politician; and, in fact,
a lover of everything which served to promote the interests of his
extended and varied social circle in particular, and entire community in
general.
Lady Dilworth, it may here be mentioned, was never of a very robust
nature, and often had she felt the great strain of society press rather
heavily on her weak frame, so much so, as to render the adoption of the
subject of this book indispensable. Drawing his chair closer to the
table, on which one of the great lamps stood, Sir John proceeded to
peruse the contents of the note. It was an invitation from Lord and Lady
Dilworth to attend a ball at Dilworth Castle on 22nd prox., given by
them in honour of the marriage of Henry, fifth Marquis of Hill-Hall,
with Ethel, Countess of Maidstone.
Lord Dilworth and the Marquis were personal friends of Sir John, and to
accept this kind and courteous invitation would mean a step towards the
summit of the matrimonial ladder, by meeting the majority of the
fully-fledged belles in and around Canterbury, and especially Irene
Iddesleigh, Lord Dilworth's adopted daughter, more generally known as
"The Southern Beauty." He slept over the matter that night, with the
result that next morning he wrote accepting the kind invitation, more
through curiosity than desire.
Although he led a quiet and retired life, generally speaking, still he
did not absent himself totally from a few social meetings occasionally,
and if imagination painted his future in the manner so artfully designed
by Lady Dilworth, no doubt this visit to Dilworth Castle might convert
it into reality.
Arriving at the elegant castle, with its tower of modern fame, and
spires of Gothic structure, Sir John was met in its great hall by the
genial hostess, who conducted him to the brilliant reception-room,
superbly laid out for the comfort of its guests; and being the first to
arrive, was thus afforded a good opportunity of inspecting the many
valuable relics and works of art that adorned its huge and velvety
walls.
On the centre wall right opposite wh
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