Blind Love

He approached her; his arms closed round her. She struggled to free

herself from his embrace. At that moment they both heard the crackle of

breaking underwood among the trees behind them. Lord Harry looked

round. "This is a dangerous place," he whispered; "I'm waiting to see

Arthur pass safely. Submit to be kissed, or I am a dead man." His eyes

told her that he was truly and fearfully in earnest. Her head sank on

his bosom. As he bent down and kissed her, three men approached from

their hiding-place among the trees. They had no doubt been watching

him, under orders from the murderous brotherhood to which they

belonged. Their pistols were ready in their hands--and what discovery

had they made? There was the brother who had been denounced as having

betrayed them, guilty of no worse treason than meeting his sweetheart

in a wood! "We beg your pardon, my lord," they cried, with a thoroughly

Irish enjoyment of their own discomfiture--and burst into a roar of

laughter--and left the lovers together. For the second time, Iris had

saved Lord Harry at a crisis in his life.

"Let me go!" she pleaded faintly, trembling with superstitious fear for

the first time in her experience of herself.

He held her to him as if he would never let her go again. "Oh, my

Sweet, give me a last chance. Help me to be a better man! You have only

to will it, Iris, and to make me worthy of you."

His arms suddenly trembled round her, and dropped. The silence was

broken by a distant sound, like the report of a shot. He looked towards

the farther end of the wood. In a minute more, the thump of a horse's

hoofs at a gallop was audible, where the bridlepath was hidden among

the trees. It came nearer--nearer---the creature burst into view, wild

with fright, and carrying an empty saddle. Lord Harry rushed into the

path and seized the horse as it swerved at the sight of him. There was

a leather pocket attached to the front of the saddle. "Search it!" he

cried to Iris, forcing the terrified animal back on its haunches. She

drew out a silver travelling-flask. One glance at the name engraved on

it told him the terrible truth. His trembling hands lost their hold.

The horse escaped; the words burst from his lips: "Oh, God, they've killed him!"