or in your
face?" she asked.

He was as pleasantly patient as ever:

"You needn't take the trouble to do that, my dear; I'll only ask your
leave to sit down and wait on the stairs. When you have done with Miss
Henley, just call me in. And, by the way, don't be alarmed in case of a
little noise--say a heavy man tumbling downstairs. If the blackguard
it's your misfortune to be married to happens to show himself, I shall
be under the necessity of kicking him. That's all."

Mrs. Vimpany closed the door. She spoke to Iris respectfully, as she
might have addressed a stranger occupying a higher rank in life than
herself.

"There is an end, madam, to one short acquaintance; and, as we both
know, an end to it for ever. When we first met--let me tell the truth
at last!--I felt a malicious pleasure in deceiving you. After that
time, I was surprised to find that you grew on my liking, Can you
understand the wickedness that tried to resist you? It was useless;
your good influence has been too strong for me. Strange, isn't it? I
have lived a life of deceit, among bad people. What could you expect of
me, after that? I heaped lies on lies--I would have denied that the sun
was in the heavens--rather than find myself degraded in your opinion.
Well! that is all over--useless, quite useless now. Pray don't mistake
me. I am not attempting to excuse myself; a confession was due to you;
the confession is made. It is too late to hope that you will forgive
me. If you will permit it, I have only one favour to ask. Forget me."

She turned away with a last hopeless look, who said as plainly as if in
words: "I am not worth a reply."

Generous Iris insisted on speaking to her.

"I believe you are truly sorry for what you have done," she said; "I
can never forget that--I can never forget You." She held out her
pitying hand. Mrs. Vimpany was too bitterly conscious of the past to
touch it. Even a spy is not beneath the universal reach of the
heartache. There were tears in the miserable woman's eyes when she had
looked her last at Iris Henley.

CHAPTER XII

LORD HARRY's DEFENCE

AFTER a short interval, the drawing-room door was opened again. Waiting
on the threshold, the Irish lord asked if he might come in.

Iris replied coldly. "This is not my house," she said; "I must leave
you to decide for yourself."

Lord Harry crossed the room to speak to her and stopped. There was no
sign of relenting towards him in that dearly-loved face. "I