r the days that I passed in her company, I
might never have tried to atone for my past life by works of mercy.
When other people take the way of amendment, I wonder whether they find
it as hard to follow, at first, as I did?"

"There is no doubt of it, Mrs. Vimpany--if people are sincere. Beware
of the sinners who talk of sudden conversion and perfect happiness. May
I ask how you began your new life?"

"I began unhappily, Mr. Mountjoy--I joined a nursing Sisterhood. Before
long, a dispute broke out among them. Think of women who call
themselves Christians, quarrelling about churches and church
services--priest's vestments and attitudes, and candles and incense! I
left them, and went to a hospital, and found the doctors better
Christians than the Sisters. I am not talking about my own poor self
(as you will soon see) without a reason. My experience in the hospital
led to other things. I nursed a lady through a tedious illness, and was
trusted to take her to some friends in the south of France. On my
return, I thought of staying for a few days in Paris--it was an
opportunity of seeing how the nurses did their work in the French
hospitals. And, oh, it was far more than that! In Paris, I found Iris
again."

"By accident?" Hugh asked.

"I am not sure," Mrs. Vimpany answered, "that there are such things as
meetings by accident. She and her husband were among the crowds of
people on the Boulevards, who sit taking their coffee in view of the
other crowds, passing along the street. I went by, without noticing
them. _She_ saw me, and sent Lord Harry to bring me back. I have been
with them every day, at her invitation, from that time to this; and I
have seen their life."

She stopped, noticing that Hugh grew restless. "I am in doubt," she
said, "whether you wish to hear more of their life in Paris."

Mountjoy at once controlled himself.

"Go on," he said quietly.

"Even if I tell you that Iris is perfectly happy?"

"Go on," Hugh repeated.

"May I confess," she resumed, "that her husband is irresistible--not
only to his wife, but even to an old woman like me? After having known
him for years at his worst, as well as at his best, I am still foolish
enough to feel the charm of his high spirits and his delightful
good-humour. Sober English people, if they saw him now, would almost
think him a fit subject to be placed under restraint. One of his wild
Irish ideas of expressing devotion to his wife is, that they shall
forge