she deliberately dropped
the subject. Iris took it up. Sitting by the only table in the room,
she was in a position which placed her exactly opposite to one of the
prints--the magnificent portrait of Mrs. Siddons as The Tragic Muse.

"I wonder if Mrs. Siddons was really as beautiful as that?" she said,
pointing to the print. "Sir Joshua Reynolds is reported to have
sometimes flattered his sitters."

Mrs. Vimpany's solemn self-possessed eyes suddenly brightened; the name
of the great actress seemed to interest her. On the point, apparently,
of speaking, she dropped the subject of Mrs. Siddons as she had dropped
the subject of the theatre. Mountjoy was left to answer Iris.

"We are none of us old enough," he reminded her, "to decide whether Sir
Joshua's brush has been guilty of flattery or not." He turned to Mrs.
Vimpany, and attempted to look into her life from a new point of view.
"When Miss Henley was so fortunate as to make your acquaintance," he
said, "you were travelling in Ireland. Was it your first visit to that
unhappy country?"

"I have been more than once in Ireland."

Having again deliberately disappointed Mountjoy, she was assisted in
keeping clear of the subject of Ireland by a fortunate interruption. It
was the hour of delivery by the afternoon-post. The servant came in
with a small sealed packet, and a slip of printed paper in her hand.

"It's registered, ma'am," the woman announced. "The postman says you
are to please sign this. And he seems to be in a hurry."

She placed the packet and the slip of paper on the table, near the
inkstand. Having signed the receipt, Mrs. Vimpany took up the packet,
and examined the address. She instantly looked at Iris, and looked away
again. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" saying this she left the
room, without opening the packet.

The moment the door closed on her, Iris started up, and hurried to
Mountjoy.

"Oh, Hugh," she said, "I saw the address on that packet when the
servant put it on the table!"

"My dear, what is there to excite you in the address?"

"Don't speak so loud! She may be listening outside the door."

Not only the words, but the tone in which they were spoken, amazed
Mountjoy. "Your friend, Mrs. Vimpany!" he exclaimed.

"Mrs. Vimpany was afraid to open the packet in our presence," Iris went
on: "you must have seen that. The handwriting is familiar to me; I am
certain of the person who wrote the address."

"Well? And who is the person?"