Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydia's projected marriage, saw that
she must return to Wiltstoken, and forget her brief social splendor
as soon as possible. She therefore thanked Miss Carew for her
bounty, and begged to relinquish her post of companion. Lydia
assented, but managed to delay this sacrifice to a sense of duty and
necessity until a day early in winter, when Lucian gave way to a
hankering after domestic joys that possessed him, and allowed his
cousin to persuade him to offer his hand to Alice. She indignantly
refused--not that she had any reason to complain of him, but because
the prospect of returning to Wiltstoken made her feel ill used, and
she could not help revenging her soreness upon the first person whom
she could find a pretext for attacking. He, lukewarm before, now
became eager, and she was induced to relent without much difficulty.
Lucian was supposed to have made a brilliant match; and, as it
proved, he made a fortunate one. She kept his house, entertained his
guests, and took charge of his social connections so ably that in
course of time her invitations came to be coveted by people who were
desirous of moving in good society. She was even better looking as a
matron than she had been as a girl; and her authority in matters of
etiquette inspired nervous novices with all the terrors she had
herself felt when she first visited Wiltstoken Castle. She invited
her brother-in-law and his wife to dinner twice a year--at midsummer
and Easter; but she never admitted that either Wallace Parker or
Cashel Byron were gentlemen, although she invited the latter freely,
notwithstanding the frankness with which he spoke to strangers after
dinner of his former exploits, without deference to their
professions or prejudices. Her respect for Lydia remained so great
that she never complained to her of Cashel save on one occasion,
when he had shown a bishop, whose house had been recently broken
into and robbed, how to break a burglar's back in the act of
grappling with him.
The Skenes returned to Australia and went their way there, as Mrs.
Byron did in England, in the paths they had pursued for years
before. Cashel spoke always of Mrs. Skene as "mother," and of Mrs.
Byron as "mamma."
William Paradise, though admired by the fair sex for his strength,
courage, and fame, was not, like Cashel and Skene, wise or fortunate
enough to get a good wife. He drank so exceedingly that he had but
few sober intervals after his escape from the law. He claimed the
title of champion of England on Cashel's retirement from the ring,
and challenged the world. The world responded in the persons of
sundry young laboring men with a thirst for glory and a taste for
fighting. Paradise fought and prevailed twice. Then he drank while
in training, and was beaten. But by this time the ring had again
fallen into the disrepute from which Cashel's unusual combination of
pugilistic genius with honesty had temporarily raised it; and the
law, again seizing Paradise as he was borne vanquished from the
field, atoned for its former leniency by incarcerating him for six
months. The abstinence thus enforced restored him to health and
vigor; and he achieved another victory before he succeeded in
drinking himself into his former state. This was his last triumph.
With his natural ruffianism complicated by drunkenness, he went
rapidly down the hill into the valley of humiliation. After becoming
noted for his readiness to sell the victories he could no longer
win, he only appeared in the ring to test the capabilities of
untried youths, who beat him to their hearts' content. He became a
potman, and was immediately discharged as an inebriate. He had sunk
into beggary when, hearing in his misery that his former antagonist
was contesting a parliamentary election, he applied to him for alms.
Cashel at the time was in Dorsetshire; but Lydia relieved the
destitute wretch, whose condition was now far worse than it had been
at their last meeting. At his next application, which followed soon,
he was confronted by Cashel, who bullied him fiercely, threatened to
break every bone in his skin if he ever again dared to present
himself before Lydia, flung him five shillings, and bade him be
gone. For Cashel retained for Paradise that contemptuous and
ruthless hatred in which a duly qualified professor holds a quack.
Paradise bought a few pence-worth of food, which he could hardly
eat, and spent the rest in brandy, which he drank as fast as his
stomach would endure it. Shortly afterwards a few sporting papers
reported his death, which they attributed to "consumption, brought
on by the terrible injuries sustained by him in his celebrated fight
with Cashel Byron."