Blind Love

"Her business, I take it, was the proving of the will and the

arrangement of the property."

"That was the business which kept her in town."

"Lady Harry," Mr. Mountjoy went on, "had a little property of her own

apart from what she may ultimately get from her father. About five

thousand pounds--not more."

"Indeed? She did not ask my assistance in respect of her own property."

"I suppose it is invested and in the hands of trustees. But, indeed, I

do not know. Lord Harry himself, I have heard, was generally in a

penniless condition. Were there any insurances?"

"Yes; happily there was insurance paid for him by the family. Otherwise

there would have been nothing for the widow."

"And this has been paid up, I suppose?"

"Yes; it has been paid into her private account."

"Thank you," said Mr. Mountjoy. "With your permission, I will address a

letter to Lady Harry here. Will you kindly order it to be forwarded at

the very earliest opportunity?"

"Iris," he thought, "will not come to London any more. She has been

persuaded by her husband to join in the plot. Good heavens! She has

become a swindler--a conspirator---a fraudulent woman! Iris!--it is

incredible--it is horrible! What shall we do?"

He first wrote a letter, to the care of the lawyers. He informed her

that he had made a discovery of the highest importance to herself--he

refrained from anything that might give rise to suspicion; he implored

her to give him an interview anywhere, in any part of the world--alone,

he told her that the consequences of refusal might be fatal--absolutely

fatal--to her future happiness: he conjured her to believe that he was

anxious for nothing but her happiness: that he was still, as always,

her most faithful friend.

Well; he could do no more. He had not the least expectation that his

letter would do any good; he did not even believe that it would reach

Iris. The money was received and paid over to her own account. There

was really no reason at all why she should place herself again in

communication with these lawyers. What would she do, then? One thing

only remained. With her guilty husband, this guilty woman must remain

in concealment for the rest of their days, or until death released her

of the man who was pretending to be dead. At the best, they might find

some place where there would be no chance of anybody ever finding them

who knew either of them before this wicked thing was done.