"Oh, to find money, dear, if I can--to pick up diamonds, or to hit on a
mine of gold, and so forth."
The fine observation of Iris detected something not quite easy in his
manner, as he made that reply. He tried to change the subject: she
deliberately returned to it. "Your account of your travelling plans is
rather vague," she told him. "Do you know when you are likely to
return?"
He took her hand. One of the rings on her fingers happened to be turned
the wrong way. He set it in the right position, and discovered an opal.
"Ah! the unlucky stone!" he cried, and turned it back again out of
sight. She drew away her hand. "I asked you," she persisted, "when you
expect to return?"
He laughed--not so gaily as usual.
"How do I know I shall ever get back?" he answered. "Sometimes the seas
turn traitor, and sometimes the savages. I have had so many narrow
escapes of my life, I can't expect my luck to last for ever." He made a
second attempt to change the subject. "I wonder whether you're likely
to pay another visit to Ireland? My cottage is entirely at your
disposal, Iris dear. Oh, when I'm out of the way, of course! The place
seemed to please your fancy, when you saw it. You will find it well
taken care of, I answer for that."
Iris asked who was taking care of his cottage.
The wild lord's face saddened. He hesitated; rose from his chair
restlessly, and walked away to the window; returned, and made up his
mind to reply.
"My dear, you know her. She was the old housekeeper at--"
His voice failed him. He was unable, or unwilling, to pronounce the
name of Arthur's farm.
Knowing, it is needless to say, that he had alluded to Mrs. Lewson,
Iris warmly commended him for taking care of her old nurse. At the same
time, she remembered the unfriendly terms in which the housekeeper had
alluded to Lord Harry, when they had talked of him.
"Did you find no difficulty," she asked, "in persuading Mrs. Lewson to
enter your service?"
"Oh, yes, plenty of difficulty; I found my bad character in my way, as
usual." It was a relief to him, at that moment, to talk of Mrs. Lewson;
the Irish humour and the Irish accent both asserted themselves in his
reply. "The curious old creature told me to my face I was a scamp. I
took leave to remind her that it was the duty of a respectable person,
like herself, to reform scamps; I also mentioned that I was going away,
and she would be master and mistress too on my small property. That
softened her heart towards me. You will mostly find old women amenable,
if you get at them by way of their dignity. Besides, there was another
lucky circumstance that helped me. The neighbourhood of my cottage has
some attraction for Mrs. Lewson. She didn't say particularly what it
was--and I never asked her to tell me."