Blind Love

The evening had advanced, and the candles had just been lit in

Mountjoy's sitting-room at the hotel.

His anxiety to hear from Iris had been doubled and trebled, since he

had made the discovery of her father's visit to the doctor's house, at

a time when it was impossible to doubt that Lord Harry was with her.

Hugh's jealous sense of wrong was now mastered by the nobler emotions

which filled him with pity and alarm, when he thought of Iris placed

between the contending claims of two such men as the heartless Mr.

Henley and the reckless Irish lord. He had remained at the hotel,

through the long afternoon, on the chance that she might write to him

speedily by the hand of a messenger--and no letter had arrived. He was

still in expectation of news which might reach him by the evening post,

when the waiter knocked at the door.

"A letter?" Mountjoy asked.

"No, sir," the man answered; "a lady."

Before she could raise her veil, Hugh had recognised Iris. Her manner

was subdued; her face was haggard; her hand lay cold and passive in his

hand, when he advanced to bid her welcome. He placed a chair for her by

the fire. She thanked him and declined to take it. With the air of a

woman conscious of committing an intrusion, she seated herself apart in

a corner of the room.

"I have tried to write to you, and I have not been able to do it." She

said that with a dogged resignation of tone and manner, so unlike

herself that Mountjoy looked at her in dismay. "My friend," she went

on, "your pity is all I may hope for; I am no longer worthy of the

interest you once felt in me."

Hugh saw that it would be useless to remonstrate. He asked if it had

been his misfortune to offend her.

"No," she said, "you have not offended me."

"Then what in Heaven's name does this change in you mean?"

"It means," she said, as coldly as ever, "that I have lost my

self-respect; it means that my father has renounced me, and that you

will do well to follow his example. Have I not led you to believe that

I could never be the wife of Lord Harry? Well, I have deceived you---I

am going to marry him."

"I can't believe it, Iris! I won't believe it!"

She handed him the letter, in which the Irishman had declared his

resolution to destroy himself. Hugh read it with contempt. "Did my

lord's heart fail him?" he asked scornfully.