She assured me that the journey would not hurt her, that no evil
consequences would ensue; and, as I longed intensely for my father to
see her, it was arranged that we should go together. A few hours of the
journey passed happily enough, and then my poor wife was taken ill.
Heaven pardon me because of my youth, my ignorance, my inexperience! I
think sometimes that I might have saved her--but it is impossible to
tell. We stopped at a little town called Castledene, and I drove to the
hotel. There were races, or something of the kind, going on in the
neighborhood, and the proprietors could not accommodate us. I drove to
the doctor, who was a good Samaritan; he took us into his house--my
child was born, and my wife died there. It was not a son and heir, as we
had hoped it might be, but a little daughter, as fair as her mother. Ah,
Lord Arleigh, you have had your troubles, I have had mine. My wife was
buried at Castledene--my beautiful young wife, whom I loved so dearly. I
left my child, under the doctor's care, with a nurse, having arranged to
pay so much per annum for her, and intending when I returned to England
to take her home to Wood Lynton as my heiress.
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