Blind Love

The next morning brought with it an event, which demolished the

doctor's ingenious arrangement for the dismissal of Iris from the scene

of action. Lord and Lady Harry encountered each other accidentally on

the stairs.

Distrusting herself if she ventured to look at him, Iris turned her

eyes away from her husband. He misinterpreted the action as an

expression of contempt. Anger at once inclined him to follow Mr.

Vimpany's advice.

He opened the door of the dining-room, empty at that moment, and told

Iris that he wished to speak with her. What his villainous friend had

suggested that he should say, on the subject of a separation, he now

repeated with a repellent firmness which he was far from really

feeling. The acting was bad, but the effect was produced. For the first

time, his wife spoke to him.

"Do you really mean it?" she asked, The tone in which she said those words, sadly and regretfully telling

its tale of uncontrollable surprise; the tender remembrance of past

happy days in her eyes; the quivering pain, expressive of wounded love,

that parted her lips in the effort to breathe freely, touched his

heart, try as he might in the wretched pride of the moment to conceal

it. He was silent.

"If you are weary of our married life," she continued, "say so, and let

us part. I will go away, without entreaties and without reproaches.

Whatever pain I may feel, you shall not see it!" A passing flush

crossed her face, and left it pale again. She trembled under the

consciousness of returning love--the blind love that had so cruelly

misled her! At a moment when she most needed firmness, her heart was

sinking; she resisted, struggled, recovered herself. Quietly, and even

firmly, she claimed his decision. "Does your silence mean," she asked,

"that you wish me to leave you?"

No man who had loved her as tenderly as her husband had loved her,

could have resisted that touching self-control. He answered his wife

without uttering a word--he held out his arms to her. The fatal

reconciliation was accomplished in silence.

At dinner on that day Mr. Vimpany's bold eyes saw a new sight, and Mr.

Vimpany's rascally lips indulged in an impudent smile. My lady appeared

again in her place at the dinner-table. At the customary time, the two

men were left alone over their wine. The reckless Irish lord, rejoicing

in the recovery of his wife's tender regard, drank freely.

Understanding and despising him, the doctor's devilish gaiety indulged

in facetious reminiscences of his own married life.