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

proved her only visitor, she placed her fleecy wrap carelessly against

it, and resuming her seat, was persuaded fully to believe she had

successfully accomplished the first step to her freedom.

Rachel, arriving now with luncheon, failed to notice, or if noticed, to

mention the article in the window. Next day, with great confidence, Lady

Dunfern was found in her usual recess, and drawing forth the telescope,

viewed keenly the object of her constant search, and to her wild delight

she at once beheld Marjory Mason with grave face staring, she fancied,

at her. At last, her Ladyship had achieved a mighty work, indeed, which

she hoped would yet prove of more practical importance.

It may be mentioned that Marjory Mason visited the same plot of ground

at the same hour every available morning since she was robbed of the

pleasure of waiting on her mistress, merely to get a glimpse of the

window she knew must belong to her Ladyship's haunt of hardship; and

could honest Marjory have only seen the handkerchief that every day was

pointed to its little transparent enclosures, how she would so gladly

have waved hers in return. But other means had to be resorted to,

through Lady Dunfern's great perspicacity, to try and establish a line

of communication with one she could trust. This being now arrived at

cast a world of grief from the mind of her who, under such a roof of

suspense as that beneath which she existed, felt if aid were not

forthcoming, she would shortly have to yield to the imperative command

of the King of Conquering Divines.

Who could now recognise the "Southern Beauty" of Dilworth Castle?

Who could visit the once beautiful bride of Dunfern Mansion without

naturally betraying signs of heartfelt sorrow? She who so often graced

the assemblies of the proud and famous; she who adorned society with her

majestic presence; she who, by her charming manner and elegant bearing,

failed not to steal the affection of him who treated her so, was an

object of abject commiseration where her conduct wasn't questioned. She

was no longer the cheerful associate, the bright converser, the lively,

robust Irene Iddesleigh. She, the pride of her guardians, the once

adored of her husband, the envied object of socialism, must bear to

exist, though by any means within her power, not where she existed

presently. The next part to be enacted was to attract Marjory's

attention. This could easily be tried, and tying her cambric square

firmly round the top of a small poker, she timidly sent it through the

cavity, at the same time viewing Marjory by means of her telescope.

At first Marjory was seen to shade her eyes with her hand, and move a

little forward, then suddenly stop. She would again move slightly nearer

to the wafting emblem of despair, and quickly advancing, until she

neared the spot where best the snowy sign could be seen, instantly

concluded that she must be observed by her ladyship.

When Lady Dunfern perceived that Marjory could by no means be closer to

her, she pulled the flag of victory back, leaving her maid in breathless

confusion, never for an instant flinching until she might again have an

opportunity of rendering her assistance whom she worshipped.

In less than five minutes another signal appeared through the open space

in the form of a small piece of paper, the meaning of which Marjory knew

well. It appeared to be making its way with wonderful alacrity towards

her, who now was in nervous despair lest she should be detected by her

master, or some of the other members of his staff. At last the missive

reached its destination, and, wildly grasping it, Marjory loosed the

cord, that was swiftly drawn back, and plainly written by her mistress's

hand were the words, "To Marjory, my trusted maid." Shrieking with

delight, she pushed the note into her pocket, and, speedily hastening to

the mansion, entered her own room. Securing the door from within, she

instantly tore asunder the cover, and read with tearful eyes as

follows:--

"Room No. 10.

"Dearest Marjory and Friend,

"You at last have proof of the confidence reposed in you by me.

How I have thought of you since I was severed from you no one

knows. That you have been aware of my imprisonment I can no longer

doubt. However, I shall not presently give you any particulars,

but beg to say that if you could by any means you thought safe let

me hear if you have ever received any letters for me from Oscar,

I should ever feel grateful and reward you accordingly. My reason

for such inquiry I shall explain further on. Dear Marjory, keep

this dark. Might I suggest that you slip a note under my door this

evening at five o'clock precisely. This you can do I believe at

this hour with safety. Trusting you are keeping strong, and hoping

soon to thank you personally for such secret kindness,

"Believe me,

"Sincerely yours,

"IRENE.

"To Marjory."

This note was ample explanation of the confidence Lady Dunfern had in

her maid. She well knew from previous experience how she could trust

her, and felt assured she was not a victim to misplaced confidence.

Marjory would sooner have suffered death than betray her whom she had

served so long at Dilworth Castle, and so short a time at Dunfern

Mansion, and, carefully folding the note she held in her hand, proceeded

to reply.

Lady Dunfern, at the hour appointed, stood in agony behind the massive

door, underneath which she soon felt sure of receiving news that would

either increase or diminish her varied stock of fears. Nor was she

disappointed. At the very hour referred to, the note appeared. Who could

picture the ecstatic relief of Lady Dunfern as she paced her prison

floor, whilst carefully scanning the contents of Marjory's note. In it

she stated that her husband received all letters direct, not alone for

himself, but for all his servants, and delivered them personally to

each, this only happening since she was subject to his cruel treatment.

Lady Dunfern was a little surprised at not receiving through Marjory

some news of Oscar. But when informed of her husband being the recipient

of all letters, she felt confident his were amongst the many for his

inspection, and would not therefore aid his aspect of matters much.

Safely depositing the prayed-for epistle of Marjory in her drawer, she

seemed to suddenly grow quite cheerful and animated, so much so that

Rachel, on entering some short time afterwards, was so struck with the

change as to acknowledge that her ladyship must surely appreciate the

book she held in her hand to an extraordinary extent, since it had

altered her demeanour so.

Could this attendant only have known the true nature of Lady Dunfern's

much-changed manner, how, with a conquering air, she would so soon have

conveyed the tidings to Sir John. This, however, was not to be. Lady

Dunfern believed that such a line of intercourse as that which she had

so artfully managed with one on whom she could ever place implicit

confidence, must surely yet be the means of freeing her from the fetters

of a fierce and prejudiced race.

Every morning, at the same hour, mistress and maid were at their

respective posts, the former, with brightened eye, mounted on her

favourite pedestal of triumphant account and gazing intently on the

object of rescue; the latter, casting that grave and careworn look in

the direction of the niched signboard of distress, stood firmly and

faithfully until she received the watchword of action and warning.