Blind Love

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VI, Issue 23, 7 June 1890, Page 4

Blind Love

By

WILKIE COLLINS.

[The Right of Tf.axslatiox is Reserved.) Synopsis or Chapters 1. 11. 11l- IV. and V. Sir Giles llovntjot. of Arden, knight and banker, sends for hi. head clerk. Dennis Howmore. early in The morn ng. He brings, be Sir Giles' instructions, a broken tea-cup from behind a milestone.then. again following his employer's orders, consults the third volume of Gibbon's History in the reading room. Here he discovers a piece of jerforated paper. Being suspicious, as he lives in Ireland, he consults a friend of his. who enlightens him as to the nature of this mysterious paper. <jr Giles takes Dennis into his confidence the next day. Together thev come to the conclusion that this is a warning about some member of his family, possibly about his nephew Arthur ♦ Sir Giles is a bachelor*, who I>ennis says is boycotted. Miss Iri. Henley, sir Giles' giai-daughter. calls. rhe has ouarre’.led with her father in London, and refused to marry her cousin Hugh, because she loves a certain Lord Harry, who has joined a Secret Society—the Invincibles. . ~ . , Iris -ends a letter to warn Arthur Mountjoy of hn* supposed danger. -Sir Giles smu receives another letter, appointing a meeting with him privately. Sir Giles promptly sends for the police. He arranged that the Sergeant, dressed in private clothes, should go to the rendezvous for him. It is quite dark, but Iris, fearing that the man who is threatening her god-father is none other than her lover—Lord Harry—leaves the house, and makes her way to the milestone—the place appointed in the note.

THE PROLOGUE.- Continued.

VI.

than half of the distance between the town and the milestone before the sky darkened again. objects by the wayside grew shadowy’and dim. A few drops of rain began to fall- The milestone, as she knew —thanks to the discovery of it made bv daylight—was on the right hand side of the road. But the dull grey colour of the stone was not easy to see in the dark. A doubt troubled her whether she might not liave jasse-l the milestone. She stopped and looked at the sky. The threatening of rain had passed away : signs showed themselves which seemed to promise another break in the clouds. She waited. Low and faint, the sinking moonlight looked its last at the dull earth. In front of her. there was nothing to be seen but the road. She looked back—and discovered the milestone. A rough stone w all protected the land on either side of the road. Nearly behind the milestone there was a gap in this fence, partially closed by a hurdle. A half-ruined culvert, arching a ditch that had run dry. formed a bridge leading from the road to the field. Hail the held l*een already chosen as a place of concealment bv the police t Nothing was to be seen but a footpath, and the dusky line of a plantation bev**nd it. As she made these discoveries, the rain began to fall again: the elouds gathered once more: the moonlight vanished. At the same moment an obstacle presented itself to her mind, which Iris thus far failed to foresee. Lord Harry might approach the milestone by three different ways : tfiat is to say —by the road from the town, or by the road from the open country, or by way of the field and the culvert. How could she so place herself as to be sure of warning him. before he fell into the hands of the [-dice ! To watch the three means of approach in the obscurity of the night, and at *‘ne and the same time, w as impossible. A man in this position, guided by reason, would in all probability have wasted precious time in trying to arrive at the right decision. A woman. aided by love, conquered the difficulty that confronted her in a moment. Iris decided on returning to the milestone, andon waiting there to lie discovered and taken prisoner by the police. Supposing laird Harry to lie punctual to his appointment, he would hear voices and movements, as a nece—ary consequence of the arrest, in time to make his escape. Supposing him on the other hand to l*e late, the police would lie on the way back to the town with their prisoner : he would find no one at the milestone, and would leave it again in safety. She was on the point of turning, to get back to the road, when something on the dark surface of the field, which looked like a darker shadow, became dimly visible. In another moment, it seemed to be a shadow that moved. She ran

towards it. It looked like a man as she drew nearer. The man stopped. • The password.’ he said, in tones cautiously lowered. • Fidelity.’ she answered in a whisper. It was too dark for a recognition of his features ; bur Iris knew him by his tall stature—knew him by theaccent in which he hail asked for the password. Erroneously judging of her, •>n his side, a- a man. Redrew back again. Sir Giles. Mount joy wasabovethe middleheight : the stranger, inacloak. who hail whispered to him, was below it. ’\ ou are not the person I expected to meet,’ he said. * Mbo are you *’ Her faithful heart was longing to tell him the truth. The temptation to reveal herself, and to make the sweet confession of her happiness at having saved him, would have encouraged her discretion, but for a sound that was audible on the road behind them. In the deep silence of time and place, mistake was impossible. It was the sound of footsteps, .-.-..1 There was just time to whisper to him : * Sir Giles has betrayed you. Save yourself. ’ ■ Thank you. whoever you are With that replv. he suddenly and swiftly disappeared. Iris remembered the culvert, and turned towards it. There was a hiding-place under the arch, if she could only get down into the dry ditch in time. She was feeling her way to the slope of it"with her feet, when a heavy hand seized her bv the arm ; and a resolute voice said : ‘loo are my prisoner. ’ She was led back into the road. The man who had got her blew- a whistle. Two other men joined him. ■ Show’ a light.’ he said : ’ and let’s see who the fellow is. The shade was slipped aside from a lantern ; the light fell full on the prisoner's face. Amazement petrified the two attendant The pious Catholic Sergeant burst into speech : ‘ Holy Mary I it’s a woman I’ Did the secret societies of Ireland enrol .women' Mas this a modern Judith, expressing -herself by anonymous letters, and bent on assassinating a financial Holofernes who kept a bank ? M'hat account had she to give of herself t How came she to lie alone in a desolate field on a rainy night 1 Instead of answering these questions, the inscrutable stranger preferred a bold and brief request. * Take me to Sir Giles ’ —was all she said to the police. The Sergeant had the handcuffs ready. After looking at the prisoner's delicate wrists by the lantern-light, he put his fetters back in his pocket. *A lady—and no doubt about it.’ he said to one of his assistants. The two men waited, with a mischievous interest in seeing what he would do next. The list of their pions officer s virtues ineluded a constitutional partiality for women, which exhibited the merciful side of justice when a criminal wore a petticoat- * M’e will take you to Sir Giles, Miss, Jie said —and offered his arm. instead of offering his handcuffs. Iris understood him and took his arm. She was silent —unaccountably silent as the men thought —on the way to the tow n. They heard her sigh : and. once, the sigh sounded more like a sob : little did they suspect what was in that silent woman’s mind at the rime. The one object which had absorbed the attention of Iri*. had been the saving of Lord Harry. This accomplished, the free exercise of her memory had now reminded her of Arthur Mountjoy. It was impossible to doubt that the object of the proposed meeting at the milestone had been to take measures for the preservation of the young man's life. A cowaid is always more or less cruel. 'The proceedings equally treacherous and merciless by which Sir Giles had provided for his own safety, had delaved —perhaps actually prevented—the execution of Lord Harry’s humane design. It was possible, horribly possible, that a prompt employment of time might have been necessary to the rescue of Arthur from impending death by murder.' In the agitation that overpowered her. Iris actually hurried the police on their return to the town. Sir Giles' had arranged to wait for news in his private room at the office—and there he was. with Dennis Howniore in attendance to receive visitors. The Semeant went into the banker’s room alone, to make his report. He left the door ajar: Iris could hear what passed. • Have you got your prisoner f Sir Giles began. • Yes, your honour.’ ■ Is the wretch securely handcuffed ' • I beg your pardon, sir. it isn't a man. ■ Nonsense. Sergeant: it can’t be a hoy. The Sergeant confessed that it was not a boy. Its a woman.' he said. ■ M'hat : - •A woman r' the patient officer repeated—’and a young one. She asked for You. ■ Bring her in." Iris was not the sort of person who waits to lie brought in. She walked in. of her own accord. MI. ‘ Good Heavens :’ cried Sir Giles. "Iris: M'ith my cloak on : M'ith my hat in her hand : ! Sergeant, there has been some dreadful mistake. This is my goddaughter— Miss Henley.' • M'e found her at the milestone,your honour. The young lady, and nobody else.' Sir Giles appealed helplessly to his goddaughter. • M'hat does this mean f Instead of answering, she looked at the Sergeant. The Sergeant, conscious of responsibility, stooc his ground and looked at Sir Giles. His face confessed that the Irish sense of humour was tickled : but he showed no intention of leaving the room. Sir Giles -aw that Iris would enter into no explanation in the man's presence. • You needn't " ait any longer. ’ he said. • M'hat am I to do. if you please, with the prisoner 1’ the Sergeant inquired. Sir Giles- waived that unneee-sary question away with his hand. He was trebly responsible—a* knight, banker, and magistrate into the bargain. ’ I will be-answerable,'he replied. "for producing Miss Henley, if called upon. Goodnight. ’ f’be Sergeant - sense of duty was satisfied. He made the military salute. His gallantry added homage to the voung lady under the form of a bow. Then, and then only, he walked with dignity out of the room. • Now,’ Sir Giles resumed. • I presume I may expect to receive an explanation. M'hat does this impropriety mean I M'hat were you doing at the milestone I

• I was saving the person who made the apjointment with you.’ Iris said ; • the poor fellow who had no ill-will towards you—who had risked everything to save your nephew’s life, < »h, sir, you committed a terrible mistake when you refused to trust that man '.’ Sir Giles had anticipated the appearance of fear, ami the reality of humble apologies. She had answered him indignantly, with a heightened colour, and with tears in her eyes. His sense of his own social importance was wounded to the quick. ‘Mho is the man you are speaking of r' he a-keii loftily. * And what is your excuse tor having gone to the milestone to save him—Glidden under my cloak, disguised in roy hatS • Don't waste precious time in asking questions !' was the desperate reply. ‘ I'ndo the harm that you have done already. Your help—oh, I mean what I say ! —may yet presene Arthur's lite. Goto the farm, and save him.’ Sir Giles's anger assumed a new form : it indulged in an elaborate mockery of respect. He took his watch from his pocket, and consulted it satirically. * Must I make an excuse r' he asked with a clumsy assumption of humility. ‘No I you must go.' ‘ Permit me to inform you, Miss Henley, that the last train started more than two hours since.’ • M'hat does that matter' You are rich enough to hire a train.' Sir Giles. the actor, could enduie it no longer : he dropped the mask, and revealed Sir Giles, the man. His clerk was -ummoned by a peremptory ring of the liell. ‘ Attend Miss Henley to the house.’ he' said. * You may come to your senses after a night's rest." he continued, turning sternly to Iris. • I will receive your excuses in the morning." In the morning, the breakfast was ready as usual at nine o’clock. Sir Giles found himself alone at the table. He sent an order to one of the woman-sen ants to knock at Miss Henio*— door. There was a long delay. The housekeeper presented herself in a state qj alarm : she ha»i gone upstairs to make the necessary investigation in her own person. Miss Henley was nut in her num : the maid was not in her room : the beds had been slept in : the heavy luggage was labelled, •To be called for from the hotel.’ Ami there was an end of the evidence which the absent Iris had left l-ehind her. Inquiries were made at the hotel. The young ladv had ealle-i there with her maid, early on that morning. They had their travelling-bags with them : and Miss Henley hail left directions that the luggage was to l*e placed under care of the landlord until her return. To what destination she had betaken herself nobody knew. Sir Giles was too angry to remember what she hail said to him on the previous night, or he might have guesseil at the motive which had led to her dej«arture. * Her father is done with her already,’ he said : ■ and I have done with her now.’ The servants received orders not to admit Miss Henley, if her audacity contemplated a return to her godfathers house.

YIII. Ox the morning of the same day. Iris arrived at the village situated in the near neighbourhood of Arthur Mountjoy’s farm. The infection of political excitement (Otherwise, the hatred of England i had spread even to this remote place. L*n the steps of his little chapel, the priest, a peasant himself, was haranguing his brethren of the soil. An Irishman who paid his landlord was a traitor to his country : an Irishman who asserted his free birthright in the land that he walked on was an enlightened patriot. Such was the new law which the reverend gentleman expounded to his attentive audience. If his brethren there would like him to tell them how they might applv the law, this exemplary Christian would joint to the raithless Irishman. Arthur Mountjoy. ■ Buy not of him : sell not to him : avoid him if he approaches you : starve him out of the place. I might say more, boys—you know what I mean.’ To hear the latter j*art of this effort of oratory, without urteringa word of protest, wasa trial of endurance under which Iris tremble*i. The secondary effect of the priest’s address was to root the conviction of Arthur's danger with tenfold tenacity in her mind. After what she had just heard, even the slightest delay in securing his safety might be productive of deplorable results. She astonished a bare-footed boy. on the outskirts of the crowd, by a gift of sixjience, and asked her way to the farm. The little Irishman ran on before her, eager to show the generous ladv how useful he could be. In less than half an hour. Iris amt her maid were at the door of the farm house. No such civilised inventions appeared as a knocker or a bell The l*oy used his knuckles instead—ami ran away when he heard the lock of the door turned on the inner side. He was afraid to be seen speaking to anv living creature who inhabited the ’evicted farm.’ A ileeent old woman apj*eared. and inquired suspiciously • what the ladies wanted.’ The accent in which she spoke was unmistakeably English. M'hen Iris asked for Mr Arthur Mount joy the reply was : ■ Not at home.' The housekeejier inhospitably attempted to close the door. • M'ait one moment.’ Iris said. ’ Years have changed you ; but there is something in your face which is not quite strange to me. Are you Mrs Lewson I' The w**man a.imitte*l that this was her name. * But how is it that vou are a stranger to met’ she asked distrustfully. • If you have been long in Mr Mountjoy’s service,' Iris replied. ’ you may perhaps have heard him speak of Miss Henley r’ Mrs Lewson's face brightened in an instant: she threw the door wide open with a glad cry of recognition. ’ Come in. Miss, come in : MTio would have thought of -eeing you in this horrible place Yes; I was the nurse who looked after you all three —when you and Mr Arthur and Mr Hugh were playfellows together.’ Her eyes rested longingly on her favourite of bygone days. The sensitive sym{■athies of Iris interjireted that looC She prettily touched ler cheek, inviting the nurse to kiss her. At this act of kindness the poor old woman broke down : she apologised quaintly for her tears : • Think. Miss, how 1 must remember that happy time—when you have not forgotten it.’ Shown into the jiarlour. the first object which the visitor noticed was the letter that she had written to Arthur lying unopened on the table. ’ Then he is really out of the house ?’ she said with a feeling of relief.

He hail been away fn»m the farm for a week or more. Hai he received a warning from some other quarter? an<i h ul he wisely sought refuge in Hight ? The amazement in t ie houaekce|>er's face, when she heart! these question-. Meadel for a word of explanation. Iris acknowledged without re-erve the motives which had suggested her journey, and asked eagerlv if she had been mistaken in assuming that Arthur was In danger of assassination. Mrs Lewson shook her hear! Beyond all doubt the young master was in danger. But Miss Iris ought to have known ills nature better than to suppose that he would beat a retreat. if all the land-leaguers tn lieland threatened him to••ether. No ! It was his bold wav to laugh at danger. He h;vl left his farm to visit a friend in the next county : and it was shrewdly gues-ed that a young ladv who was staying in the house was the attraction which liad kept him so long aw av. * Anyhow, he means to come l>ack to-morrow, Mrs Lewson said'. • I wish he would think better of it. and make his escape to England while he has the chance. If the savages in these parts must shoot somebody. I'm here—an old woman that can't last much longer. Let them shoot me.’ , .. , Iris asked if Arthur's safety was assured ;in the next county, and in the house of his friend. • I can't say. Miss ; I have never been to the house. He is in danger if he persists in coming l>ack to the fanu. There ■«re chances of shooting him all along his road home. Oh.

yes : he knows it. ]>oor dear, as well as I do. But. there : — men like him are such perverse cieatures. He takes h s ride- just a- usual. No ; he won’t listen to an old woman like me : and. as for friends to advise him. the only one of them that lia- darkened our doors is a -camp who had bett -r have kept away. Yon may have heard tell of him. The old Earl, his wicked father, used to be called by a bad nani?. And the wild young lord is his father’s true son. •Not Lord fiarryf Iris exclaimed. The outbreak of agitation in her tone and manner was silently noticed by her maid. The housekeeper did not attempt to conceal the impression that had been produced upon her. • I hope you don't know such a vagabond a* that she said verv seriously. * Perhaps you are thinking of his brother —the eldest sm—a respectable man as I haveb?en told ?' ... Miss Henley jvassed over these questions without notice. Urged by the interest in her lover, which was now more than ever an interest beyond her control, she said : ' Is Lord Harry in danger, on account of his friend ? * He has’nothing to fear from the wretches who infest our iiart of the country,' Mrs Lewson replied. • Report says he's one of themselves. The police—there's what his young lordship ha* to lie afraid of. if all's true that is said about him. Anyhow, when he paid his visit to mv master, he came secretlv like a thief in the night. Ami I heard Mr Arthur, while thev were together here in the parlour. loud in blam-

ing him for something that he had done. No more. Miss, of Lord Harry '. I have something paiticular to say to vou. Sup,»«se I promise to make you comfortable —will you please wait here till to-morrow. and see Mr Arthur and sjeak to him t If there'* a |erson living who can persuade him to take letter care of himself. I do believe it will be vou. Iris readily consented to wait for Arthur Mountjoy's return. Left together. while Mrs Lewson was attending to her domestic duties, the mistress noticed an ap|>earance of preoccupation in the maid'- face. •Are vou beginning to wish. Rhoda." she -aid. ‘that I had not brought you to this strange place, among these wild j-eople ?' The maid was a quiet amiable girl, evidently in delicate health. She smiled faintly. ‘ I was thinking. Miss, of another nobleman besides the one Mrs Lewson mentioned just now. who seems to have led a reckless life. It was printed in a newspaper that I read before we left London. • Was hi- name mentioned f Iris a-ked. •No. Miss : I suppose they were afraid of giving offence. He tried so many strange ways of getting a living—it was almost like reading a story-book.’ The suppression of the name suggested a suspicion from which Iris recoiled. Was it possible that her maid could be ignorantly alluding to Lord Harry.

rH£ prin« ...a. aaraeter- in rhe -Soct were an «4d Irish ... .- . I: wa- sil.- • * the Eart ihas ta had el-m: been. a g»l - - -. •■ - ? -re- • - . - - - 7 • y• - - -<x «•*•' y weasel *: -ere-*L as 1 left to himself in ■.• ■ <;•:.J>v-. »-_-hr_ hi- itoivceSJiroa- career bv rwrorngtg . . - _ - - - • -- - dit-l *-y. At "I.- -.•a’.-e:. he • ifoi well : learning hi- w -rk. Af. r 'Seiiix Eke*l ’.-v the * apcain and the erew. Bur the zmef iaze wa- a "Wutal man. an* I the y.ang ranaway’- .- :re - ••- -.a • Jbttac - \rmseEf to 1 ■ company <-£ scrkdEng players. Being a harji--*-me Li*i. with * g»*d ugare and & due char voice. _•_«* ii-i werr well f.<- a while -a she cvantrv -t.vreHard times came : -salaries were reduced : tta adventurer wearier! ■ f she -«.eieny • ■•:' act-.-r? and actresses. Hi- next change ■-f life presented him in N red Britain a- i; urnaLE-r. eei: 1- yed u & new-paper. As unfortunate lovejUS&ir • i.-the m.e;ms ■ f depriving him. -f this new '.ccupa- - --.. ■ - •••_ '■-• '• • ■.' ~ '•- " ' _ -,' -recant -cewar’’. in <re ,-f the ’.a-serger steamer- * . yagfng ’er -e r Liverpe-»-l and New Y -rk. Arrived in this lasc city. re ’ tained nesc-rfesy. .in- very respectable ktai. a-a •■ re rim claiming p*>wer- -?f -aperaazmral remnianEaci’-'Ci with :.e ■-*■ •'!•■' ■ ■•: -n-iri".-. VV.-.en she wk- nlsi- - .ssely - ■ ---• . - . •.• .•s.--: . ey by i- nn -r a.." r.-eal s ■ s-’.e me;.bnly :-r»jrsd: -nperstrisie-n *x •n»:*feni sirne*-. A ’•.•n_ mser-’d had siien elapeei. ■m*i nechin?x had seen heard : nim_ when h -’.irv-inj man wa- -iieeovered by a sravellen i.es ■.■ n l Weetem prairie. The iLL-fared Eri-L b?rd h. as?ee Lined hlm.-elf wish an Iniian tribe—had eemmisce:. -deme .»x_-.dz>s sheir law-—aa>i dal been <ie.l eraseiy iese-rsel and [efs so iie. <*n hi> recovery, he w?! <e sod?.i- ebier .■sher whv bad innesisei she sisie .and •c. she deash •: she -?ld Eari s«: say thas he wa>.■>.’.Lr: ~ 'f sne .ire soas ne _ev.. <an»L eajiier u» ■ snake anieadmen” ' y .acve-ycizx ;.any ’.'.•■•■ne>s etnpk>ymen6 shas ct abi ’■•e so mm. The sraseller who had -saved his life, xr-: .-c-ini' a wx- s«? .e sm-sei. ieei&reo siias siie lente a -ineerely penizens -saze mind. There were X’.-ed ‘i,o;.»!lisies in she vag&F>?C’d. which eniy w-.ansed a listle menrffil emv<~rk_:eniens se thenL-etves. T - reedy shas he received fruni Ernxhind can e from she Awyet> ’■ysbe new EarL They had a re*, rye* ? •vizi, their .-.txenn- in New Y -rk z«> pay “•> "he yt:»nny?er ie-- J* .egacy of a shr-osind ponn<i-. which re presented dl "< <lz had ’-eon lefts-: him by his father’- will. If he wrote K?.bin. hi- Lessers w nld net ’’e -inswereii : hi? hr’-?ther hdui ■.•.-no with him. Treazei in "di- inhmmin manner, she wild '■•c - : '■e<e*.n ! « A • m« w >rthy f bi- "a.me. He tried a new i. ju- ’■ ettsn-x man az ri.ee> ;tn< i F'jrtnne i.i/- nsm it she oas.?et. and he iiiereai?e*l .« -_ •. AV[- i -he c i-t infaz mm s. i en h _-ai ■ ’i-kfmx : - ’. >- f it. he zre-nmed n . ?i<rk- ♦ *ne '-e.'nni.my •n-ac-ser 6>Ll*)we»i ar-: left bn literaliy pennfie>-. He wa- f-.-nnd axain. in England : -xhihitinx an -K>en coat, in whhbi he and' a companion .•.■id mute <ne of sh.-ee feo-Lhardy aeroee she Atlantic, which have n«-w happily ceased s«? intereez the n' 4i--. To a friend wh.> renioocrThteii with him. he a. v ri’ed that he —v.l reckse.ee. . n beinxi lees az >?:!. and »?n m •._!• ..ituinx a ?afeide worthy ...f the desperate Ere he had leih The la?z :i»«.*ci?»int.- -'f him. after this, were "<-•? vague an-i t-.‘ ?.ntr’i*dcs»jry be -iependei on. At one time ft wa> 7e-c»-rtei this he had resumei sc* she Unftei States. N t 1- ry ifterwiKris. m.-iw!coansAhie paragraphs appeami in new-' apers : re«-2laring. an -: ne ;in«i the same time, shat b. w ,ls '’■ vm-j among bad r-mpany in Pari-, and shat he was hi»iing '..i-reC'Ctahly in an tll-fame*i • L uarter of the city of Du’"din. called * The Liberties. ’ In .iny ease, there warea?*xi to- tear shat Irish-AiEeri*ran -iesperai-je- had en -an.gfc-4 • the wild I*>rd in she netw-:-rk »f cou- . r r ... T'.ie uat’i nocx«2eii a .mmge m sue mi-sres- winch -mm-Lsre her. when -he ■ia.i reached she en«l c-f she new-paper ?cocy. *»f Mi— Henley - -rTL-t«:-niary gc-ed -spirits not a trace remained. ’ Few peecte. Rh«->fa. remember what they read a- *eh •..' y- n. i . She ?aid it kin*fly and saily—and die There w k- a for this N w it -?ne time, and now at aaocher. Iris had L : • H trrv - faul-.s and fail dur? in fragments ■ f family -- pi_ . . - - . jfe in tn 'inizteinrapced -nccessic-n -.-f event.-. h<a.i n«m forced itn ler attention f-.*r she iirsc time. It nasurally sh» :«eked - • - - f-lt. a- -he bad never felt -ef—re. how entirely c_ ■ -- fat ter .■. een Ln in-isting n. her -— >t.tn -t« at".»..’ r..-n: wm-'h w?k- onw.>rthv f her. "> far. ■’nU n«‘ fcMtne:. ner yielded co its own e*.«wieEMffi -f whan wa- ;tsz. But the ■ue mias-ailahle vital force in this world l- she f ■r*e f love. It m.ay sabuift to she hard neces--itjes ■ .ire : it may iefa&->wle»ige trie imperative claims •«: [jury; is may be -Liens under repciotbch. and <i’- missive so privazi«-c.—but. -u2fer whiz it mav. ‘f’ier.‘*e—. vmnx n« ■ -opremacy ut she .tv .iss own ’•‘■oir n I --i-a..site-Lanm; ju.*ti«'u which hai -aved L.-rt Har~v at t' ie mile-t. -ne. Her better -en-e &ekn«>w le ixe* * Hugfa. M one joy - -uperidcity over the c-cher max>—but her heart, her |e”’. e--e ue.krt. remained _ true to it.- nres eiwiee in -pire -.-f her ''-.e made an impatient ei*use. and went o<xt &!• ce. t«* • - • - 1 -i •■: - . T - 2* or- of the eveuim: pA.tsed -lowly. T -re w k- a p»k»r.< ■■€ car’i- in the hoct-e : ti.e w t -.<nen trie*! t« vi x-e themselve-. and failed. Anxiesv about Arthur r-reyed. xi the spirits : «c Mi-> Henley and Mr- Lewsm. rSenthe a-.aid. who ?.ai -cly -een him inrinx his la-c vSit to Li-r.«;- n. «ai*i -he wi-he: s«-m* rr* w nad e*?m- and _•* ue. H.- -weet temper, hi- .'..and-**me fi*re. his lively talk had aade Arthm a ta<u«rice everywhere. Mre Lew--c had left

her •xci.f 'rxa'-ie Engis-h Sxue to be hi- h*-a-ekceper. when he trie»i hr- rash experiment farming in IreLan-L A»i. wort wcoierfxl even wear.-ome xr Gilo beeanie an agreeable ler-cc. in ni- nephew’s oi-mf-aay. Iri< -et she example •.<’ recirtng as an eartv hr*«r to her r»xm • There wa- -*.-me«hing zerribie in sue pMweal -hence «4 the place. I: as-*.ei.azrd itzelf a2.yxceriea.-Iy with her fear- for Arthur : is i .arme*i treachery ».»ci tip<*e. caking iis murter’-u.- -sand in hiding : the whirling p'«os-aje *.«f hallec.chreagh she air : she piercing cry •: a man m- •rtally w- • m- •.ec : and that riar- ternaz*- •- Iris -b.rank fr*xti her own ito.erki sh-uxght. A riinzne-s overcame her : she <oene*i site wind- -w. A- ce pas her hea»i *xrs co breathe she co*/, night-air. a man c. f .de up t*> she boose. - : Artl.nr ’ N - i- : . n:e: .v • ’ - :.;a: Bef*xe he eeold < iisez.* hiss co kmek xz the d**>r. <a tall sn..vr. walked up him «t -x tie iarkne—. - Is that Mile- ’’ the tall man. asked. The xr’*?m knew she v.,dre. Iris was even better ae-j-nainted with it. She. ree*ogni*e»i L*«rd Harry. i'r*? 33: co-yrrxcsT l -.