Blind Love

"There is a train at a quarter to two. You can do all you have to do

and catch the train at five. Iris"--the chance of a change made him

impatient--"let us go to-morrow. Let us go by the night express. There

will be English travellers, but they shall not recognise me. We shall

be in Calais at one in the morning. We will go on by an early train

before the English steamer comes in. Will you be ready?"

"Yes; there is nothing to delay me. I suppose we can leave the house by

paying the rent? I will go and do what you want."

"Let us go this very night."

"If you please; I am always ready."

"No: there will be no time; it will look like running away. We will go

to-morrow night. Besides, you would be too tired after going to

Brussels and back. Iris, we are going to be happy again--I am sure we

are." He, for one, looked as if there was nothing to prevent a return

of happiness. He laughed and waved his hands. "A new sky---new

scenes--new work--you will be happy again, Iris. You shall go, dear.

Get me the things I want."

She put on her thick veil and started on her short journey. The

husband's sudden return to his former good spirits gave her a gleam of

hope. The change would be welcome indeed if it permitted him to go

about among other men, and to her if it gave her occupation. As to

forgetting--how could she forget the past, so long as they were reaping

the fruit of their wickedness in the shape of solid dividends? She

easily found what she wanted. The steamer of the Compagnie Generale

Transatlantique left Havre every eighth day. They would go by that

line. The more she considered the plan the more it recommended itself.

They would at any rate go out of prison. There would be a change in

their life. Miserable condition! To have no other choice of life but

that of banishment and concealment: no other prospect than that of

continual fraud renewed by every post that brought them money.

When she had got all the information that was wanted she had still an

hour or two before her. She thought she would spend the time wandering

about the streets of Brussels. The animation and life of the cheerful

city--where all the people except the market-women are young--pleased

her. It was long since she had seen any of the cheerfulness that

belongs to a busy street. She walked slowly along, up one street and

down another, looking into the shops. She made two or three little

purchases. She looked into a place filled with Tauchnitz Editions, and

bought two or three books. She was beginning to think that she was

tired and had better make her way back to the station, when suddenly

she remembered the post-office and her instructions to Fanny Mere.