Blind Love

"I say, Mountjoy," he began, "have you any idea of what my daughter is

about?"

"I don't even understand what you mean," Hugh replied. "For the last

month I have been in Scotland."

"You and she write to each other, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Hasn't she told you--"

"Excuse me for interrupting you, Mr. Henley; she has told me nothing."

Mr. Henley stared absently at the superbly-bound books on his

library-shelves (never degraded by the familiar act of reading), and

scratched his head more restlessly than ever.

"Look here, young man. When you were staying with me in the country, I

rather hoped it might end in a marriage engagement. You and Iris

disappointed me--not for the first time. But women do change their

minds. Suppose she had changed her mind, after having twice refused

you? Suppose she had given you an opportunity--"

Hugh interrupted him again. "It's needless to suppose anything of the

sort, sir; she would not have given me an opportunity."

"Don't fence with me, Mountjoy! I'll put it in a milder way, if you

prefer being humbugged. Do you feel any interest in that perverse girl

of mine?"

Hugh answered readily and warmly: "The truest interest!"

Even Mr. Henley was human; his ugly face looked uglier still. It

assumed the self-satisfied expression of a man who had carried his

point.

"Now I can go on, my friend, with what I had to say to you. I have been

abroad on business, and only came back the other day. The moment I saw

Iris I noticed something wrong about her. If I had been a stranger, I

should have said: That young woman is not easy in her mind. Perfectly

useless to speak to her about it. Quite happy and quite well--there was

her own account of herself. I tried her maid next, a white-livered

sulky creature, one of the steadiest liars I have ever met with. 'I

know of nothing amiss with my mistress, sir.' There was the maid's way

of keeping the secret, whatever it may be! I don't know whether you may

have noticed it, in the course of your acquaintance with me--I hate to

be beaten."

"No, Mr. Henley, I have not noticed it."

"Then you are informed of it now. Have you seen my housekeeper?"

"Once or twice, sir."

"Come! you're improving; we shall make something of you in course of

time. Well, the housekeeper was the next person I spoke to about my

daughter. Had she seen anything strange in Miss Iris, while I was away

from home? There's a dash of malice in my housekeeper's composition; I

don't object to a dash of malice. When the old woman is pleased, she

shows her yellow fangs. She had something to tell me: 'The servants

have been talking, sir, about Miss Iris.' 'Out with it, ma'am! what do

they say?' 'They notice, sir, that their young lady has taken to going

out in the forenoon, regularly every day: always by herself, and always

in the same direction. I don't encourage the servants, Mr. Henley:

there was something insolent in the tone of suspicion that they

adopted. I told them that Miss Iris was merely taking her walk. They

reminded me that it must be a cruelly long walk; Miss Iris being away

regularly for four or five hours together, before she came back to the

house. After that' (says the housekeeper) 'I thought it best to drop

the subject.' What do you think of it yourself, Mountjoy? Do you call

my daughter's conduct suspicious?"