Lady Ennismore continued three months with Mrs. Spottiswoode. Sir John Wetheral brought a bulletin daily of his ladies' health, and each wrote despondingly upon the subject to her sister. She regretted to say her poor Spottiswoode failed in all his patient exertions to win her mother's approbation. She was happy to think there was no cause of complaint against him of any serious nature. His crime consisted in having stepped in between her poor mother's ambition and a dukedom; and this would ever be unpardonable in her eyes. Her mother was relentless towards Spottiswoode. She would not pronounce his name, or receive a message from him. She only alluded to him as the "poor baronet," or "the man whom Sir John upheld." It was vain to hope against hope. Her mother's dislike grew more powerful as her strength declined, and it would end only in the grave. Her mother received no one; she appeared to have renounced society, and her movements were exclusively confined to her own range of apartments. Mrs. Daniel Higgins was admitted frequently, because she had been the depository of her lady's secrets in days of yore, and was now a patient listener to her regrets; but, beyond that, all was silent at Wetheral. Christobelle considered her father in much better spirits. He had become apparently reconciled to her cheerful, more called forth, she thought, than when her mother was the dominant spirit. It might be that his mind was at rest concerning his children; that he was no longer dreading plots and systems, and was gratified by the constant society of Spottiswoode, who was so attentive and companionable to him. She could not tell, but so it was. She was distressed to think they were so happy together, when her poor mother's situation was so cheerless, and her health so visibly declining!
Such was the tenor of Christobelle's communications to Lidham, and they renewed Lady Ennismore's anxiety to return to Wetheral. She longed to relieve Christobelle from some portion of her fatigues; and, above all, her spirit flew back to her father. She could never sufficiently value his parental anxieties, or the protection he was affording her sorrow. A father's presence was a shield from every worldly blast; and the perfect seclusion of Wetheral Castle suited best with her present state. Lidham was almost too gay, though she only met looks and words of kindness and approbation. It was time that Christobelle should also enjoy a period of happy communion with Sir John Spottiswoode; and that period could not arrive, unless some one assumed the reins in her place, and bore the disagreeables of the nursing department. Mrs. Spottiswoode's good sense acquiesced entirely in Lady Ennismore's reasonings.
"My dear friend, you are perfectly right, and I am only perfectly sorry to lose you. I anticipate much comfort in the present state of things, however dismally Christobelle represents them. You will all be happier at Wetheral, and I shall see your face beaming with smiles, in spite of Lady Wetheral's monastic retirement. Don't look distressed, Julia; I am going to explain myself."
"My mother has received an incurable wound, Penelope!"
"I know that. Lady Wetheral has received an incurable wound in her ambition, and that has closed her hopes and pleasures on this side the grave. She has no child to plan for—not one now to sacrifice. All is ended which employed her mind, and fed the craving passion of her soul. Her resources are cut off, and she will never more resume her position in society. Is it not wisely ordered? If Lady Wetheral recovered her health, would she not be scheming for her grandchildren, and pouring her besetting Julia, enough misery has been originated. Let it end here. Let us not wish it otherwise."
Lady Ennismore could not refute her friend's argument. Mrs. Spottiswoode continued.
"Wetheral Castle will never, perhaps, resume its festive scenes, for there has been too much of evil connected with their remembrance; but you will enjoy profound peace of heart, and receive your friends without alarm. If Lady Wetheral remains secluded in her apartments, there is no reason why the rest of the family should not enjoy themselves: forgive me if I say it will prove true enjoyment."
Mrs. Spottiswoode spoke truly. Wetheral Castle did become a home of domestic peace, because its restless mistress no longer wielded the sceptre of power, to transform the elements of good into the instruments of evil. Lady Wetheral sunk into ill health and apathy, irrecoverable. Her mind and body seemed stunned into torpor, by two events which she had not foreseen, and could not parry—the refusal of a dukedom by Christobelle, and the flight of Lady Ennismore from her home. These two events were ever upon her thoughts, and in her speech, because "she had particularly arranged each splendid match, and was doomed to be foiled by her own children in their accomplishment. She knew her energies were worn down, and her strength exhausted. She could not walk three steps from her sofa without fatigue, and the least noise produced severe nervous attacks. She was a pretty specimen of maternal cares! She advised all parents to allow their headstrong daughters to marry whoever would encumber themselves with them; for marry they would, and it was hopeless to endeavour to lead their tastes in a proper channel. She expected Mrs. Higgins would let her little girl grow up in insubordination, and the child would most likely marry a bricklayer, instead of looking up to a man in a well established grocery-business. She detested mean minds."
Lord Ennismore and his mother, the Dowager-countess, appeared again at Bedinfield. Her ladyship's point was gained. She had recovered entire control over the destinies of Bedinfield, freed from continual alarms, lest her son should escape her powerful influence, and become infatuated by the loveliness and yielding disposition of his gentle wife. But she did not long enjoy the fruits of her unnatural conduct. Ere a year had elapsed after the separation recorded, Lord Ennismore sank into the family vault at Bedinfield, unwept and unhonoured, save by the generous-hearted creature whom he had not the capacity to appreciate.
When Lady Ennismore received the information of her unfortunate lord's decease, she wept to think how desolate had been the existence of a human being, born to become the tool and victim of his mother's insatiable love of power; and she wept to remember he had died without the consolation of being watched over by a wife, who would have acted honourably and faithfully in her duties.