y to make money for him at the
theatre, and a manager (not an Irishman, thank God!) who refuses to
engage you--after your acting has filled his dirty pockets in past
days--because your beauty has faded with time. Doesn't your bright
imagination see it all now? My old friend Arabella, ready and anxious
to serve me--and a sinking at this poor fellow's heart when he knew, if
he once lost the trace of you, he might lose it for ever--there's the
situation, as they call it on the stage. I wish I could say for myself
what I may say for Mrs. Vimpany. It's such a pleasure to a clever woman
to engage in a little deceit--we can't blame her, can we?"

Iris protested gently against a code of morality which included the
right of deceit among the privileges of the sex. Lord Harry slipped
through her fingers with the admirable Irish readiness; he agreed with
Miss Henley that he was entirely wrong.

"And don't spare me while you're about it," he suggested. "Lay all the
blame of that shameful stratagem on my shoulders. It was a despicable
thing to do. When I had you watched, I acted in a manner--I won't say
unworthy of a gentleman; have I been a gentleman since I first ran away
from home? Why, it's even been said my way of speaking is no longer the
way of a gentleman; and small wonder, too, after the company I've kept.
Ah, well! I'm off again, darling, on a sea voyage. Will you forgive me
now? or will you wait till I come back, if I do come back? God knows!"
He dropped on his knees, and kissed her hand. "Anyway," he said,
"whether I live or whether I die, it will be some consolation to
remember that I asked your pardon--and perhaps got it."

"Take it, Harry; I can't help forgiving you!"

She had done her best to resist him, and she had answered in those
merciful words.

The effect was visible, perilously visible, as he rose from his knees.
Her one chance of keeping the distance between them, on which she had
been too weak to insist, was not to encourage him by silence. Abruptly,
desperately, she made a commonplace inquiry about his proposed voyage.
"Tell me," she resumed, "where are you going when you leave England?"

"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