"I have kept your secret, and done your dirty work," Mrs. Vimpany
replied. "And what is my reward? Miss Henley can tell you how your
Irish blundering has ruined me in a lady's estimation. Shake hands,
indeed! You will never shake hands with Me again as long as you live!"
She said those words without looking at him; her eyes were resting on
Iris now. From the moment when she had seen the two together, she knew
that it was all over; further denial in the face of plain proofs would
be useless indeed! Submission was the one alternative left.
"Miss Henley," she said, "if you can feel pity for another woman's
sorrow and shame, let me have a last word with you--out of this man's
hearing."
There was nothing artificial in her tones or her looks; no acting could
have imitated the sad sincerity with which she spoke. Touched by that
change, Iris accompanied her as she ascended the stairs. After a little
hesitation, Lord Harry followed them. Mrs. Vimpany turned on him when
they reached the drawing-room landing. "Must I shut the door in your
face?" she asked.
He was as pleasantly patient as ever: "You needn't take the trouble to do that, my dear; I'll only ask your
leave to sit down and wait on the stairs. When you have done with Miss
Henley, just call me in. And, by the way, don't be alarmed in case of a
little noise--say a heavy man tumbling downstairs. If the blackguard
it's your misfortune to be married to happens to show himself, I shall
be under the necessity of kicking him. That's all."
Mrs. Vimpany closed the door. She spoke to Iris respectfully, as she
might have addressed a stranger occupying a higher rank in life than
herself.
"There is an end, madam, to one short acquaintance; and, as we both
know, an end to it for ever. When we first met--let me tell the truth
at last!--I felt a malicious pleasure in deceiving you. After that
time, I was surprised to find that you grew on my liking, Can you
understand the wickedness that tried to resist you? It was useless;
your good influence has been too strong for me. Strange, isn't it? I
have lived a life of deceit, among bad people. What could you expect of
me, after that? I heaped lies on lies--I would have denied that the sun
was in the heavens--rather than find myself degraded in your opinion.
Well! that is all over--useless, quite useless now. Pray don't mistake
me. I am not attempting to excuse myself; a confession was due to you;
the confession is made. It is too late to hope that you will forgive
me. If you will permit it, I have only one favour to ask. Forget me."