rehand for the payment of
expenses?"

Iris handed her purse to him, sick of the sight of Mr. Vimpany. "Is
that all?" she asked, making for the door.

"Much obliged. That's all."

As they approached the room on the ground floor, Iris stopped: her eyes
rested on the doctor. Even to that coarse creature, the eloquent look
spoke for her. Fanny noticed it, and suddenly turned her head aside.
Over the maid's white face there passed darkly an expression of
unutterable contempt. Her mistress's weakness had revealed
itself--weakness for one of the betrayers of women; weakness for a man!
In the meantime, Mr. Vimpany (having got the money) was ready to humour
the enviable young lady with a well-filled purse.

"Do you want to see my lord before you go?" he asked, amused at the
idea. "Mind! you mustn't disturb him! No talking, and no crying. Ready?
Now look at him."

There he lay on a shabby little sofa, in an ugly little room; his eyes
closed; one helpless hand hanging down; a stillness on his ghastly
face, horribly suggestive of the stillness of death--there he lay, the
reckless victim of his love for the woman who had desperately renounced
him again and again, who had now saved him for the third time. Ah, how
her treacherous heart pleaded for him! Can you drive him away from you
after this? You, who love him, what does your cold-blooded prudence
say, when you look at him now?

She felt herself drawn, roughly and suddenly, back into the passage.
The door was closed; the doctor was whispering to her. "Hold up, Miss!
I expected better things of you. Come! come!--no fainting. You'll find
him a different man to-morrow. Pay us a visit, and judge for yourself."

After what she had suffered, Iris hungered for sympathy. "Isn't it
pitiable?" she said to her maid as they left the house.

"I don't know, Miss."

"You don't know? Good heavens, are you made of stone? Have you no such
thing as a heart in you?"

"Not for the men," Fanny answered. "I keep my pity for the women."

Iris knew what bitter remembrances made their confession in those
words. How she missed Rhoda Bennet at that moment!

CHAPTER XIX

MR. HENLEY AT HOME

FOR a month, Mountjoy remained in his cottage on the shores of the
Solway Firth, superintending the repairs.

His correspondence with Iris was regularly continued; and, for the
first time in his experience of her, was a cause of disappointment to
him.

Her replies revealed an incomprehensible chang