Blind Love

Lord Harry began to look like a happy man, for the first time since he

had entered the room.

"I ought to have known it!" he burst out. "Yours is the well-balanced

mind, dear, that tempers justice with mercy. Mother Vimpany has had a

hard life of it. Just change places with her for a minute or so--and

you'll understand what she has had to go through. Find yourself, for

instance, in Ireland, without the means to take you back to England.

Add to that, a husband who sends you away to make money for him at the

theatre, and a manager (not an Irishman, thank God!) who refuses to

engage you--after your acting has filled his dirty pockets in past

days--because your beauty has faded with time. Doesn't your bright

imagination see it all now? My old friend Arabella, ready and anxious

to serve me--and a sinking at this poor fellow's heart when he knew, if

he once lost the trace of you, he might lose it for ever--there's the

situation, as they call it on the stage. I wish I could say for myself

what I may say for Mrs. Vimpany. It's such a pleasure to a clever woman

to engage in a little deceit--we can't blame her, can we?"

Iris protested gently against a code of morality which included the

right of deceit among the privileges of the sex. Lord Harry slipped

through her fingers with the admirable Irish readiness; he agreed with

Miss Henley that he was entirely wrong.

"And don't spare me while you're about it," he suggested. "Lay all the

blame of that shameful stratagem on my shoulders. It was a despicable

thing to do. When I had you watched, I acted in a manner--I won't say

unworthy of a gentleman; have I been a gentleman since I first ran away

from home? Why, it's even been said my way of speaking is no longer the

way of a gentleman; and small wonder, too, after the company I've kept.

Ah, well! I'm off again, darling, on a sea voyage. Will you forgive me

now? or will you wait till I come back, if I do come back? God knows!"

He dropped on his knees, and kissed her hand. "Anyway," he said,

"whether I live or whether I die, it will be some consolation to

remember that I asked your pardon--and perhaps got it."

"Take it, Harry; I can't help forgiving you!"

She had done her best to resist him, and she had answered in those

merciful words.

The effect was visible, perilously visible, as he rose from his knees.

Her one chance of keeping the distance between them, on which she had

been too weak to insist, was not to encourage him by silence. Abruptly,

desperately, she made a commonplace inquiry about his proposed voyage.

"Tell me," she resumed, "where are you going when you leave England?"