friendly manner to the doctor's wife. The signs of disturbance were
evidently attributable to some entirely unimportant cause, from Mrs.
Vimpany's point of view. Mr. Mountjoy's discoveries had not been
communicated yet.

In Hugh's state of mind, there was some irritating influence in the
presence of the mistress of the house, which applied the spur to his
wits. He mischievously proposed submitting to her the question in
dispute between Iris and himself.

"It is a very simple matter," he said to Mrs. Vimpany. "Miss Henley's
father is anxious that she should return to him, after an estrangement
between them which is happily at an end. Do you think she ought to
allow any accidental engagements to prevent her from going home at
once? If she requests your indulgence, under the circumstances, has she
any reason to anticipate a refusal?"

Mrs. Vimpany's expressive eyes looked up, with saintly resignation, at
the dirty ceiling--and asked in dumb show what she had done to deserve
the injury implied by a doubt.

"Mr. Mountjoy," she said sternly, "you insult me by asking the
question."--"Dear Miss Henley," she continued, turning to Iris, _"you_
will do me justice, I am sure. Am I capable of allowing my own feelings
to stand in the way, when your filial duty is concerned? Leave me, my
sweet friend. Go! I entreat you, go home!"

She retired up the stage--no, no; she withdrew to the other end of the
room--and burst into the most becoming of all human tears, theatrical
tears. Impulsive Iris hastened to comfort the personification of
self-sacrifice, the model of all that was most unselfish in female
submission. "For shame! for shame!" she whispered, as she passed
Mountjoy.

Beaten again by Mrs. Vimpany--with no ties of relationship to justify
resistance to Miss Henley; with two women against him, entrenched
behind the privileges of their sex--the one last sacrifice of his own
feelings, in the interests of Iris, that Hugh could make was to control
the impulse which naturally urged him to leave the house. In the
helpless position in which he had now placed himself, he could only
wait to see what course Mrs. Vimpany might think it desirable to take.
Would she request him, in her most politely malicious way, to bring his
visit to an end? No: she looked at him--hesitated--directed a furtive
glance towards the view of the street from the window--smiled
mysteriously--and completed the sacrifice of her own feelings in these
words: