ript a few words were added, alluding to Mr. Vimpany. Hugh
was requested not to answer any inquiries which that bad man might
venture to make, relating to her husband or to herself. In the bygone
days, she had been thankful to the doctor for the care which he had
taken, medically speaking, of Rhoda Bonnet. But, since that time, his
behaviour to his wife, and the opinions which he had expressed in
familiar conversation with Lord Harry, had convinced her that he was an
unprincipled person. All further communication with him (if her
influence could prevent it) must come to an end.

Still as far as ever from feeling reconciled to the marriage, Mountjoy
read this letter with a feeling of resentment which disinclined him to
answer it.

He believed (quite erroneously) that Iris had written to him under the
superintendence of her husband. There were certain phrases which had
been, as he chose to suspect, dictated by Lord Harry's distrust--jealous
distrust, perhaps--of his wife's friend. Mountjoy would wait to
reply, until, as he bitterly expressed it, Iris was able to write to
him without the assistance of her master.

Again he thought of returning to Scotland--and, again, he hesitated.

On this occasion, he discovered objections to the cottage which had not
occurred to him while Iris was a single woman. The situation was
solitary; his nearest neighbours were fishermen. Here and there, at
some little distance, there were only a few scattered houses inhabited
by retired tradesmen. Further away yet, there was the country-seat of
an absent person of distinction, whose health suffered in the climate
of Scotland. The lonely life in prospect, on the shores of the Solway,
now daunted Mountjoy for the first time.

He decided on trying what society in London would do to divert his mind
from the burdens and anxieties that weighed on it. Acquaintances whom
he had neglected were pleasantly surprised by visits from their rich
and agreeable young friend. He attended dinner parties; he roused hope
in mothers and daughters by accepting invitations to balls; he
reappeared at his club. Was there any relief to his mind in this? was
there even amusement? No; he was acting a part, and he found it a hard
task to keep up appearances. After a brief and brilliant interval,
society knew him no more.

Left by himself again, he enjoyed one happy evening in London. It was
the evening on which he relented, in spite of himself, and wrote to
Iris.