you, Iris, pray remember that I am speaking with a true regard for your interests.'
In those words, he made his generous appeal to her. She proved herself to be worthy of it.
Stated briefly, the retrospect began with the mysterious anonymous letters which had been addressed to Sir Giles.
Lord Harry's explanation had been offered to Iris gratefully, but with some reserve, after she had told him who the stranger at the milestone really was. 'I entreat you to pardon me, if I shrink from entering into particulars,' he had said. 'Circumstances, at the time, amply justified me in the attempt to use the banker's political influence as a means of securing Arthur's safety. I knew enough of Sir Giles's mean nature to be careful in trusting him; but I did hope to try what my personal influence might do. If he had possessed a tenth part of your courage, Arthur might have been alive, and safe in England, at this moment. I can't say any more; I daren't say any more; it maddens me when I think of it!' He abruptly changed the subject, and interested Iris by speaking of other and later events. His association with the Invincibles—inexcusably rash and wicked as he himself confessed it to be—had enabled him to penetrate, and for a time to defeat secretly, the murderous designs of the brotherhood. His appearances, first at the farmhouse and afterwards at the ruin in the wood were referable to changes in the plans of the assassins which had come to his knowledge. When Iris had met with him he was on the watch, believing that his friend would take the short way back through the wood, and well aware that his own life might pay the penalty if he succeeded in warning Arthur. After the terrible discovery of the murder (committed on the high road), and the escape of the miscreant who had been guilty of the crime, the parting of Lord Harry and Miss Henley had been the next event. She had left him, on her return to England, and had refused to consent to any of the future meetings between them which he besought her to grant.
At this stage in the narrative, Mountjoy felt compelled to ask questions more searching than he had put to Iris yet. It was possible that she might be trusting her own impressions of Lord Harry, with the ill-placed confidence of a woman innocently self-deceived.
'Did he submit willingly to your leaving him?' Mountjoy said.
'Not at first,' she replied.
'Has he released you from that rash engagement, of some years since, which pledged you to marry him?'
'No.'
'Did he allude to the engagement, on this occasion?'
'He said he held to it as the one hope of his life.'
'And what did you say?'
'I implored him not to distress me.'
'Did you say nothing more positive than that?'
'I couldn't help thinking, Hugh, of all that he had tried to do to save Arthur. But I insisted on leaving him—and I have left him.'
'Do you remember what he said at parting?'
'He said, 'While I live, I love you.''
As she repeated the words, there was an involuntary change to tenderness in her voice which was not lost on Mountjoy.
'I must be sure,' he said to her gravely, 'of what I tell your father when I go back to him. Can I declare, with a safe conscience, that you will never see Lord Harry again?'
'My mind is made up never to see him again.' She had answered firmly so far. Her next words were spoken with hesitation, in tones that faltered. 'But I am sometimes afraid,' she said, 'that the decision may not rest with me.'
'What do you mean?'
'I would rather not tell you.'
'That is a strange answer, Iris.'
'I value your good opinion, Hugh, and I am afraid of losing it.'
'Nothing has ever altered my opinion of you,' he replied, 'and nothing ever will.'
She looked at him anxiously, with the closest attention. Little by little, the expression of doubt in her face disappeared; she knew how he loved her—she resolved to trust him.
'My friend,' she began abruptly, 'education has done nothing for me. Since I left Ireland, I have sunk (I don't know how or why) into a state of superstitious fear. Yes! I believe in a fatality which is leading me back to Lord Harry, in spite of myself. Twice already, since I left home, I have met with him; and each time I have been the means of saving him—once at the milestone, and once at the ruin in the wood. If my father still accuses me of being in love with an adventurer, you can say with perfect truth that I am afraid of him. I
'My dear, I am interested—deeply interested in you. That there may be some such influence as Destiny in our poor mortal lives, I dare not deny. But I don't agree with your conclusion. What Destiny has to do with you and with me, neither you nor I can pretend to know beforehand. In the presence of that great mystery, humanity must submit to be ignorant. Wait, Iris—wait!'
She answered him with the simplicity of a docile child: 'I will do anything you tell me.'
Mountjoy was too fond of her to say more of Lord Harry, for that day. He was careful to lead the talk to a topic which might be trusted to provoke no agitating thoughts. Finding Iris to all appearance established in the doctor's house, he was naturally anxious to know something of the person who must have invited her—the doctor's wife.
CHAPTER III
THE REGISTERED PACKET
MOUNTJOY began by alluding to the second of Miss Henley's letters to her father, and to a passage in it which mentioned Mrs. Vimpany with expressions of the sincerest gratitude.
