Blind Love

"I will not," he said. "I owe you so much. I will not look for you."

"As regards the money which I have obtained for you under false

pretences, out of the fifteen thousand pounds for which you were

insured, five thousand have been paid to my private account. I shall

restore to the Company all that money."

"Good Heavens! Iris, you will be prosecuted on a criminal charge."

"Shall I? That will matter little, provided I make reparation. Alas!

who shall make reparation--who shall atone--for the blood-spilling? For

all things else in this world we may make what we call atonement; but

not for the spilling of blood."

"You mean this? You will deliberately do this?"

"I mean every word. I will do nothing and say nothing that will betray

you. But the money that I can restore, I will restore--SO HELP ME,

GOD!" With streaming eyes she raised her hand and pointed upwards.

Her husband bowed his head.

"You have said all you wished to say?" he asked humbly.

"I have said all."

"Let me look in your face once more---so--full--with the light upon it.

Yes; I have loved you, Iris--I have always loved you. Better, far

better, for you had you fallen dead at my feet on the day when you

became my wife. Then I should have been spared--I should have been

spared a great deal. You are right, Iris. Your duty lies plainly before

you. As for me, I must think of mine. Farewell! The lips of a murderer

are not fit to touch even the hem of your garments. Farewell!"

He left her. She heard the hall door open and shut. She would see her

husband no more.

She went to her own room and packed a single box with necessary things.

Then she called the housemaid and informed her that she had been

summoned to return suddenly to England; she must reach Brussels at

least that evening. The woman brought a porter who carried her box to

the station; and Iris left Louvain--and her husband--for ever.