Blind Love

On the next morning Lord Harry left the cottage, accompanied by the

doctor.

After a long absence, he returned alone. His wife's worst

apprehensions, roused by what Fanny had told her, were more than

justified, by the change which she now perceived in him. His eyes were

bloodshot, his face was haggard, his movements were feeble and slow. He

looked like a man exhausted by some internal conflict, which had

vibrated between the extremes of anger and alarm. "I'm tired to death,"

he said; "get me a glass of wine."

She waited on him with eager obedience, and watched anxiously for the

reviving effect of the stimulant.

The little irritabilities which degrade humanity only prolong their

mischievous existence, while the surface of life stagnates in calm.

Their annihilation follows when strong emotion stirs in the depths, and

raises the storm. The estrangement of the day before passed as

completely from the minds of the husband and wife--both strongly

agitated--as if it had never existed. All-mastering fear was busy at

their hearts; fear, in the woman, of the unknown temptation which had

tried the man; fear, in the man, of the tell-tale disturbance in him,

which might excite the woman's suspicion. Without venturing to look at

him, Iris said: "I am afraid you have heard bad news?" Without

venturing to look at her, Lord Harry answered: "Yes, at the newspaper

office." She knew that he was deceiving her; and he felt that she knew

it. For awhile, they were both silent.

From time to time, she anxiously stole a look at him.

His mind remained absorbed in thought. There they were, in the same

room--seated near each other; united by the most intimate of human

relationships--and yet how far, how cruelly far, apart! The slowest of

all laggard minutes, the minutes which are reckoned by suspense,

followed each other tardily and more tardily, before there appeared the

first sign of a change. He lifted his drooping head. Sadly, longingly,

he looked at her. The unerring instinct of true love encouraged his

wife to speak to him.

"I wish I could relieve your anxieties," she said simply. "Is there

nothing I can do to help you?"

"Come here, Iris."

She rose and approached him. In the past days of the honeymoon and its

sweet familiarities, he had sometimes taken her on his knee. He took

her on his knee now, and put his arm round her. "Kiss me," he said.

With all her heart she kissed him. He sighed heavily; his eyes rested

on her with a trustful appealing look which she had never observed in

them before.