Blind Love

Still as far as ever from feeling reconciled to the marriage, Mountjoy

read this letter with a feeling of resentment which disinclined him to

answer it.

He believed (quite erroneously) that Iris had written to him under the

superintendence of her husband. There were certain phrases which had

been, as he chose to suspect, dictated by Lord Harry's distrust--jealous

distrust, perhaps--of his wife's friend. Mountjoy would wait to

reply, until, as he bitterly expressed it, Iris was able to write to

him without the assistance of her master.

Again he thought of returning to Scotland--and, again, he hesitated.

On this occasion, he discovered objections to the cottage which had not

occurred to him while Iris was a single woman. The situation was

solitary; his nearest neighbours were fishermen. Here and there, at

some little distance, there were only a few scattered houses inhabited

by retired tradesmen. Further away yet, there was the country-seat of

an absent person of distinction, whose health suffered in the climate

of Scotland. The lonely life in prospect, on the shores of the Solway,

now daunted Mountjoy for the first time.

He decided on trying what society in London would do to divert his mind

from the burdens and anxieties that weighed on it. Acquaintances whom

he had neglected were pleasantly surprised by visits from their rich

and agreeable young friend. He attended dinner parties; he roused hope

in mothers and daughters by accepting invitations to balls; he

reappeared at his club. Was there any relief to his mind in this? was

there even amusement? No; he was acting a part, and he found it a hard

task to keep up appearances. After a brief and brilliant interval,

society knew him no more.

Left by himself again, he enjoyed one happy evening in London. It was

the evening on which he relented, in spite of himself, and wrote to

Iris.