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Blind Love

Page 9

Let the years roll back, and let Iris speak for herself, at the

memorable time when she was in the prime of her life, and when a stormy

career was before her.

IV

Being Miss Henley's godfather, Sir Giles was a privileged person. He

laid his hairy hands on her shoulders, and kissed her on either cheek.

After that prefatory act of endearment, he made his inquiries. What

extraordinary combination of events had led Iris to leave London, and

had brought her to visit him in his banking-house at Ardoon?

"I wanted to get away from home," she answered; "and having nobody to

go to but my godfather, I thought I should like to see You."

"Alone!" cried Sir Giles.

"No--with my maid to keep me company."

"Only your maid, Iris? Surely you have acquaintances among young ladies

like yourself?"

"Acquaintances--yes. No friends."

"Does your father approve of what you have done?"

"Will you grant me a favour, godpapa?"

"Yes--if I can."

"Don't insist on my answering your last question."

The faint colour that had risen in her face, when she entered the room,

left it. At the same time, the expression of her mouth altered. The

lips closed firmly; revealing that strongest of all resolutions which

is founded on a keen sense of wrong. She looked older than her age:

what she might be ten years hence, she was now. Sir Giles understood

her. He got up, and took a turn in the room. An old habit, of which he

had cured himself with infinite difficulty when he was made a Knight,

showed itself again. He put his hands in his pockets.

"You and your father have had another quarrel," he said, stopping

opposite Iris.

"I don't deny it," she replied.

"Who is to blame?"

She smiled bitterly. "The woman is always to blame."

"Did your father tell you that?"

"My father reminded me that I was twenty-one years old, last

birthday--and told me that I could do as I liked. I understood him, and

I left the house."

"You will go back again, I suppose?"

"I don't know."

Sir Giles began pacing the room once more. His rugged face, telling its

story of disaster and struggle in early life, showed signs of

disappointment and distress.

"Hugh promised to write to me," he said, "and he has not written. I

know what that means; I know what you have done to offend your father.

My nephew has asked you to marry him for the second time. And for the

second time you have refused."

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