Blind Love

Mountjoy began by alluding to the second of Miss Henley's letters to

her father, and to a passage in it which mentioned Mrs. Vimpany with

expressions of the sincerest gratitude.

"I should like to know more," he said, "of a lady whose hospitality at

home seems to equal her kindness as a fellow-traveller. Did you first

meet with her on the railway?"

"She travelled by the same train to Dublin, with me and my maid, but

not in the same carriage," Iris answered; "I was so fortunate as to

meet with her on the voyage from Dublin to Holyhead. We had a rough

crossing; and Rhoda suffered so dreadfully from sea-sickness that she

frightened me. The stewardess was attending to ladies who were calling

for her in all directions; I really don't know what misfortune might

not have happened, if Mrs. Vimpany had not come forward in the kindest

manner, and offered help. She knew so wonderfully well what was to be

done, that she astonished me. 'I am the wife of a doctor,' she said;

'and I am only imitating what I have seen my husband do, when his

assistance has been required, at sea, in weather like this.' In her

poor state of health, Rhoda was too much exhausted to go on by the

train, when we got to Holyhead. She is the best of good girls, and I am

fond of her, as you know. If I had been by myself, I daresay I should

have sent for medical help. What do you think dear Mrs. Vimpany offered

to do? 'Your maid is only faint,' she said. 'Give her rest and some

iced wine, and she will be well enough to go on by the slow train.

Don't be frightened about her; I will wait with you.' And she did wait.

Are there many strangers, Hugh, who are as unselfishly good to others

as my chance-acquaintance in the steamboat?"

"Very few, I am afraid."

Mountjoy made that reply with some little embarrassment; conscious of a

doubt of Mrs. Vimpany's disinterested kindness, which seemed to be

unworthy of a just man.

Iris went on.

"Rhoda was sufficiently recovered," she said, "to travel by the next

train, and there seemed to be no reason for feeling any more anxiety.

But, after a time, the fatigue of the journey proved to be too much for

her. The poor girl turned pale--and fainted. Mrs. Vimpany revived her,

but as it turned out, only for a while. She fell into another fainting

fit; and my travelling-companion began to look anxious. There was some

difficulty in restoring Rhoda to her senses. In dread of another

attack, I determined to stop at the next station. It looked such a poor

place, when we got to it, that I hesitated. Mrs. Vimpany persuaded me

to go on. The next station, she said, was her station. 'Stop there,'

she suggested, 'and let my husband look at the girl. I ought not

perhaps to say it, but you will find no better medical man out of

London.' I took the good creature's advice gratefully. What else could

I do?"