Blind Love

The time had been when this remonstrance might have influenced his

wife's opinion. She passed it over without notice now.

"Does he come here by your invitation?" she asked.

"How else should he come here, my dear?"

She looked at her husband with doubt too plainly visible in her eyes.

"I wonder what your motive is for sending for him," she said.

He was just lifting his teacup to his lips--he put it down again when

he heard those words.

"Are you ill this morning?" he asked.

"No."

"Have I said anything that has offended you?"

"Certainly not."

"Then I must tell you this, Iris; I don't approve of what you have just

said. It sounds, to my mind, unpleasantly like suspicion of me and

suspicion of my friend. I see your face confessing it, my lady, at this

moment."

"You are half right, Harry, and no more. What you see in my face is

suspicion of your friend."

"Founded on what, if you please?"

"Founded on what I have seen of him, and on what I know of him. When

you tried to alter my opinion of Mr. Vimpany some time since, I did my

best to make my view your view. I deceived myself, for your sake; I put

the best construction on what he said and did, when he was staying

here. It was well meant, but it was of no use. In a thousand different

ways, while he was doing his best to win my favour, his true self was

telling tales of him under the fair surface. Mr. Vimpany is a bad man.

He is the very worst friend you could have about you at any time--and

especially at a time when your patience is tried by needy

circumstances."

"One word, Iris. The more eloquent you are, the more I admire you.

Only, don't mention my needy circumstances again."

She passed over the interruption as she had already passed over the

remonstrance, without taking notice of it.

"Dearest, you are always good to me," she continued gently. "Am I wrong

in thinking that love gives me some little influence over you still?

Women are vain--are they not?--and I am no better than the rest of

them. Flatter your wife's vanity, Harry, by attaching some importance

to her opinion. Is there time enough, yet, to telegraph to Mr. Vimpany?

Quite out of the question, is it? Well, then, if he must come here,

do--pray, pray do consider Me. Don't let him stay in the house! I'll

find a good excuse, and take a bedroom for him in the neighbourhood.

Anywhere else, so long as he is not here. He turns me cold when I think

of him, sleeping under the same roof with ourselves. Not with us! oh,

Harry, not with us!"