Blind Love.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VI, Issue 24, 14 June 1890, Page 4

Blind Love.

By

WILKIE COLLINS.

[The Right of Translation is Reserved.] Synopsis of Chapters 1.. IL. 111. IV.. V.. VI.. VII.. VIII. and IX. Sir Giles Mountjoy. of Arden, knight and banker, sends for his head clerk. Dennis How more, early in the morn ng. He brings, by 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 perforated i»aper. Being suspicious, as he lives in Ireland, he consults a friend of his. who enlightens him as to the nature of this mysterious paper. Sir Giles takes Dennis into his confidence the next day. Together they 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 Dennis says is boycotted. Miss Iris Henley. Sir Giles’ god-daughter, calls. She has quarrelled 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 sends a letter to warn Arthur Mountjoy of his supposed danger. Sir Giles soon 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. It is a very dark night, and Iris Henley has some difficulty in finding the milestone. She meets a tall man. whom she at once recognises as Lord Harry by his voice. She. without betraying herself, warns him that Sir Ciiles has told the police. Lord Harry flees, and the police take Iris prisoner and conduct her to her godfather. who is furious with her. As he will not listen to her. she and her maid leave the house, and Sir Giles gives orders to the servants not to admit her again. Iris goes to Arthur Mountjoy’s farm. She knows the housekeeper, who assures her that Arthur is away, but will return on the morrow. The maid. Rhoda, has read something about Lord Harry in a London paper, and repeats it to her mistress. The father is dead, and the eldest son. the K •esent Earl, will have nothing to do with his scapegrace brother airy. After Iris has retired to her room that night she sees, in the semi-darkness, a groom ride up to the door, and a voice she recognises again as Lord Harry’s asks. ‘ls that you. Miles?’

THE PROLOGU E.— (Concluded.)

HERE was the Irish lord, at the very time when Iris was most patientl y r e s ign ed never to think of him as her husband again — rent i n d i n g her of the first days of their love, and of their mutual confession of it! Fear of herself kept

her l>ehin<l the curtain ; while interest in Lord Harry detained her at the window in hiding. ‘ All well at Rathco ?’ he asked—mentioning the name of the house in which Arthur was one of the guests. * Yes, my lord. Mr Mountjoy leaves us to-morrow.’ • Does he mean to return to the farm ?’ ‘ Sorry I am to say it ; he does mean that.’ ‘ Has he fixed any time, Miles, for starting on his journey ?’ Miles instituted a search through his pockets, and accompanied it by an explanation. Yes, indeed, Master Arthur had fixed a time ; he had written a note to say so to Mistress Lewson, the housekee]>er : he had said, ‘ Drop the note at the farm, on your way to the village.’ And what might Miles want at the village, in the dark ? Medicine, in a hurry, for one of his master’s horses that was sick and sinking. And, speaking of that, here, thank Hod, was the note ! Iris, listening and watching alternately, saw to her surprise the note intended for Mrs Lewson handed to Lord Hany. ‘Am I expected,’ he asked jocosely, ‘to read writing without a light ?' Miles produced a small lantern which was strapped to his groom’s lielt. * There's ]>arts of the road not over safe in the dark,’ he said as he raised the shade which guarded the light. The wild lord coolly opened the letter, and read the few careless words which it container!. • To Mrs Lewson: —Dear old girl, expect me back to morrow to dinner at three o’clock. Yours, Arthur.’

There was a pause. • Are there any strangers at Rathco ?’ Lord Harry asked. ‘ Two new men,’ Miles replied, ‘ at work in the grounds.’ There was another pause. ‘ How can I protect him ?’ the young lord said, partly to himself, partly to Miles. He suspected the two new men—spies probably who knew of Arthur's proposed journey home, and who had already reported to their employers the hour at which he would set out. Miles ventured to sav a word : ‘ I hope you won’t he angry with me, my lord • Stuff and nonsense ! Was I ever angry with you, when I was rich enough to keep a servant, and when you were the man ?’ The Irish groom answered in a voice that trembled with strong feeling. * You were the liest and kindest master that ever lived on this earth. 1 can't see you putting your precious life in ]»eiil ’ ‘My precious life?" Lord Harry repeated lightly. ‘\ou’ie thinking of Mr Mountjoy, when you say that. Hus life is worth saving. As for my life ' Heended thesentence by a whistle, as the best wav he could hit on of expressing his contempt for his own existence. ‘Mylord! my lord!’ Miles persisted: ‘the Invincibles are beginning to doubt you. If any of them find you hanging about Mr Mountjoy's farm, they’ll try a shot at you first, and ask afterwards whether it was right to kill you or not.’ To hear this said—and said seriously—after tne saving of him at the milestone, was a trial of her firmness which Iris was unable to resist. Love got the better of prudence. She drew back the window-curtain. In another moment, she would have added her persuasion to the servant’s warning, if Lord Harry himself had not accidentally checked her by a proceeding, on his part, for which she was not prepared. ‘ Show the light,’ he said ; ‘ I’ll write a line to Mr Mountjoy.’ He tore oil’ the blank page from the note to the housekeeper, and wrote to Arthur, entreating him to change the time of his departure from Rathco, and to tell no creature in the house, or out of the house, at what new hour he had arranged to go. ‘ Saddle your horse yourself,’ the letter concluded. It was written in a feigned hand, without a signature. ‘Give that to Mr Mountjoy,’Lord Harry said. ‘lf he asks who wrote it, don’t frighten him about me by telling the truth. Lie, Miles ! Say you don’t know.’ He next returned the note for Mrs Lewson ‘lf she notices that it has been opened,'he resumed, ‘and asks who has done it, lie again. Good-night, Miles—and mind those dangerous places on your road home. ’ The groom darkened his lantern ; and the wild lord was lost to view, round the side of the house. Left by himself, Miles rapped at the door with the handle of his whip. ‘ A letter from Mr Arthur,’ he called out. Mrs Lewson at once took the note, and examined it by the light of the candle on the hall table. ‘ Somebody has been reading this !’ she exclaimed, stepping out to the groom, and showing him the torn envelope. Miles, promptly obeying his instructions, declared that he knew nothing about it, and rode awav.

Iris descended the stairs, and joined Mrs Lewson in the hall before she had closed the door. The housekeeper at once produced Arthur’s letter. ‘ It’s on my mind, Miss,’ she said, ‘ to write an answer, and say something to Mr Arthur which will persuade him to take care of himself, on his way back to the farm. The difficulty is, how am I to express it ? You would be doing a kind thing if you would give me a word of advice.’ Iris willingly complied. A second note, from the anxious housekeeper, might help the edect of the few lines which Lord Harry had written. Arthur's letter informed Iris that he had arranged to return at three o'clock. Lord Harry’s question to the groom, and the man’s reply, instantly recurred to her memory: ‘Are there any strangers at Rathco?'—‘Two new men at work in the grounds.’ Arriving at the same conclusion which had already occurred to Lord Harry. Iris advised the housekeeper, in writing to Arthur, to entreat him to change the hour, secretly, at which he left his friend’s house on the next day. Warmly approving of this idea, Mrs Lewson hurried into the parlour to write her letter. ‘ Don’t go to bed yet, Miss,’ she said ; ‘ I want you to read it before 1 send it away the first thing to-morrow morning.' Left alone i.i the hall, with the door open before her, Iris looked out on the night, thinking. The lives of the two men in whom she was interested—in widely different ways—were now both threatened ; and the imminent danger, at that moment, was the danger of Lord Harry. He was an outlaw whose character would not bear investigation ; but, to give him his due, there was no risk which he was not ready to confront for Arthur’s sake. If he was still recklessly lingering, on the watch for assassins in the dangerous neighbourhood of the farm, who but herself possessed the influence which would prevail on him to leave the place ? She had joined Mrs Lewson at the door with that conviction in her mind. In another instant, she was out of the house, and beginning her search in the dark. Iris made the round of the building; sometimes feeling her way in obscure places ; sometimes calling to Lord Harry cautiously by his name. No living creature appeared ; no sound of a movement disturbed the stillness of the night. The discovery of his absence, which she had not dared to hope for, was the cheering discovery which she had now made. < in her way back to the house, she became conscious of the rashness of the act into which her own generous impulse had betrayed her. If she and Lord Hany had met, could she have denied the tender interest in him which her own conduct would then have revealed ? Would he not have been justified in concluding that she had pardoned the errors and the vices of his life, aud that he might without impropriety remind her of their engagement, and claim her hand in marriage? She trembled as she thought of the concessions which he might have wrung from her. ‘ Never more,’ she determined, ‘ shall my own folly be answerable for it, if he and I meet again.’ e She had returned to Mrs Lewson, and had read over the letter to Arthur, when the farm clock, striking the hour, reminded them that it was time to retire. They slept badly that night. At six in the morning, one of the two labourers who bad remained faithful to Arthur was sent away on horseback with the housekee]>er’s reply, and with orders to wait for an

answer. Allowing time for giving the horse a rest, the man might be expected to return before noon.

XI. It was a fine sunshiny day, Mrs Lewson’s spirits began to improve. ‘ I have always had the belief,’ the worthy old woman confessed, ‘ that bright weather brings good luck—of course provides! the day is not a Friday. This is Wednesday. Cheer up. Miss.’ The messenger returned with good news. Mr Arthur had l>een as merry as usual. He had made fun of another letter of good advice, received without a signature. ‘ But Mrs Lewson must have her way,’ he said. ‘My love to the old dear—l’ll start two hours later, and be l>ack to dinner at five. ’ ‘ M here did Mr Arthur give you that message ?’ Iris inbuired. ‘ At the stables, Miss, while I was putting up the horse. The men about were all on the broad grin when they heard Mr Arthur’s message.’ Still in a morbid state of mind, Iris silently regretted that the message had not been written, instead of being delivered by word of mouth. Here, again, she (like the wild lord) had l>een afraid of listeners. The hours wore slowly on until it was past four o'clock. Iris could endure the suspense no longer. ‘ It’s a lovelyafternoon,’ she said to Mis Lewson. ‘ Let us take a walk along the road, and meet Arthur.’ To this the housekeeper readily agreed. It was nearly five o’clock when they reached a place at which a bye-road branched off, through a wood from the highway which they had hitherto followed. Mrs Lewson found a seat on a felled tree. •We had better not go any farther,’ she said. Iris asked if there was any reason for this. There was an excellent reason. A few yards further on, the high road had been diverted from the' straight line (in the interest of a large agricultural village), and was tnen directed again into its former course. The bye-road through the wood served as a short cut, for horsemen and pedestrians, from one divergent point to the other. It was next to a certainty that Arthur would return by the short eut. But, if accident or caprice led to his preferring the highway, it was clearly necessary to wait for him within view of both the roads. Too restless to submit to a state of passive expectation, Iris proposed to follow the bridle-path through the wood for a little way,_ and to return if she failed to see anything of Arthur. ‘You are tired,’ she said kindly to her companion ; ‘ pray don't move. ’ Mrs Lewson looked needlessly uneasy : ‘ You might lose yourself, Miss. Mind you keep to the'path !’ Iris followed the pleasant windings of the woodland track. In the hope of meeting Arthur she considerably extended the length of her walk. The white line of the high road as it passed the farther end of the wood, showed itself through the trees. She turned at once to rejoin Mrs Lewson.

On her way back she made a discovery. A ruin which she had not previously noticed showed itself among the trees on her left hand. Her curiosity was excited; she strayed aside to examine it more closely. The crumbling walls, as she approached them, looked like the remains of an ordinary dwelling-house. Age is essential to the picturesque effect of decay ; a modern ruin is an unnatural and depressing object—and here the horrid thing was. As she turned to retrace her steps to the road, a man walked out of the inner space enclosed by all that was left of the dismantled house. A cry of alarm escaped her. Was she the victim of destiny, or the sport of chance ? There was the wild lord whom she had vowed never to see again : the master of hei heart—perhaps the master of her fate ! Any other man would have been amazed to see her, and would have asked how it had happened that the English lady presented herself to him in an Irish wood. This man enjoyed the delight of seeing her, and accepted it as a blessing that was not to be questioned. ‘My angel has dropped from Heaven,’ he said. ‘ May Heaven be praised !’ He approached her, his arms closed round her. She struggled to free herself from his embrace. At that moment they both heard the crackle of breaking underwood among the trees behind them. Lord Hany looked round. ‘ This is a dangerous place,' he whispered, ‘I am waiting to see Arthur pass safely. Submit to be kissed or I am a dead man. His eyes told her that he was truly and fearfully in earnest. Her head sank on his bosom. As he bent down and kissed her, three men approached from their hiding place among the trees. They had no doubt been watching him, under orders from the murderous brotherhood to which they belonged. Their pistols were ready in their hands—and what discovery had they made ? There was the brother who had been denounced as having betrayed them, guilty of no worse treason than meeting his sweetheart in the wood ! ‘We beg your pardon, my lord,’ they cried, with a thoroughly Irish enjoyment of their own discomfiture—and burst into a roar of laughter—and left the lovers together. For a second time, Iris had saved Lord Harry at a crisis in his life. J ‘ Let me go !’ she pleaded faintly, trembling with superstitious fear for the first time in her experience of herself. He held her to him as if he would never let her go again. ‘ Oh, my Sweet, give me a last chance. Help me to be a better man ! You have only to will it, Iris, and to make me worthy of you.’ His arms suddenly trembled round her, and dropped. The silence was followed by a distant sound, like the report of a shot. He looked towards the farther end of the wood. In a minute more, the thump of a horse’s hoofs at a gallop was audible, where the bridle-path was hidden among the trees. It came nearer—nearer—the creature burst into view, wild with fright, and carrying an empty saddle. Lord Harry rushed into the path, and seized the horse as it swerved at the sight of him. There was a leather pocket attached to the front of the saddle. ‘ Search it!’ he cried to Iris, forcing the terrified animal back on its haunches. She drew out a silver travelling-flask. One glance at the name engraved on it told him the terrible truth. His trembling hands lost their hold. The horse escaped ; the words burst from his lips: ‘Oh, God, they’ve killed him !’ THE END OF THE PROLOGUE.