Mrs. Lewson's face brightened in an instant; she threw the door wide

open with a glad cry of recognition.

"Come in, Miss, come in! Who would have thought of seeing you in this

horrible place? Yes; I was the nurse who looked after you all

three--when you and Mr. Arthur and Mr. Hugh were playfellows together."

Her eyes rested longingly on her favourite of bygone days. The

sensitive sympathies of Iris interpreted that look. She prettily

touched her cheek, inviting the nurse to kiss her. At this act of

kindness the poor old woman broke down; she apologised quaintly for her

tears: "Think, Miss, how I must remember that happy time--when you

have not forgotten it."

Shown into the parlour, the first object which the visitor noticed was

the letter that she had written to Arthur lying unopened on the table.

"Then he is really out of the house?" she said with a feeling of

relief.

He had been away from the farm for a week or more. Had he received a

warning from some other quarter? and had he wisely sought refuge in

flight? The amazement in the housekeeper's face, when she heard these

questions, pleaded for a word of explanation. Iris acknowledged without

reserve the motives which had suggested her journey, and asked eagerly

if she had been mistaken in assuming that Arthur was in danger of

assassination.

Mrs. Lewson shook her head. Beyond all doubt the young master was in

danger. But Miss Iris ought to have known his nature better than to

suppose that he would beat a retreat, if all the land-leaguers in

Ireland threatened him together. No! It was his bold way to laugh at

danger. He had left his farm to visit a friend in the next county; and

it was shrewdly guessed that a young lady who was staying in the house

was the attraction which had kept him so long away. "Anyhow, he means

to come back to-morrow," Mrs. Lewson said. "I wish he would think

better of it, and make his escape to England while he has the chance.

If the savages in these parts must shoot somebody, I'm here--an old

woman that can't last much longer. Let them shoot me."

Iris asked if Arthur's safety was assured in the next county, and in

the house of his friend.

"I can't say, Miss; I have never been to the house. He is in danger if

he persists in coming back to the farm. There are chances of shooting

him all along his road home. Oh, yes; he knows it, poor dear, as well

as I do. But, there!--men like him are such perverse creatures. He

takes his rides just as usual. No; he won't listen to an old woman like

me; and, as for friends to advise him, the only one of them that has

darkened our doors is a scamp who had better have kept away. You may

have heard tell of him. The old Earl, his wicked father, used to be

called by a bad name. And the wild young lord is his father's true

son."




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