tle
chapel, the priest, a peasant himself, was haranguing his brethren of
the soil. An Irishman who paid his landlord was a traitor to his
country; an Irishman who asserted his free birthright in the land that
he walked on was an enlightened patriot. Such was the new law which the
reverend gentleman expounded to his attentive audience. If his brethren
there would like him to tell them how they might apply the law, this
exemplary Christian would point to the faithless Irishman, Arthur
Mountjoy. "Buy not of him, sell not to him; avoid him if he approaches
you; starve him out of the place. I might say more, boys--you know what
I mean."

To hear the latter part of this effort of oratory, without uttering a
word of protest, was a trial of endurance under which Iris trembled.
The secondary effect of the priest's address was to root the conviction
of Arthur's danger with tenfold tenacity in her mind. After what she
had just heard, even the slightest delay in securing his safety might
be productive of deplorable results. She astonished a barefooted boy,
on the outskirts of the crowd, by a gift of sixpence, and asked her way
to the farm. The little Irishman ran on before her, eager to show the
generous lady how useful he could be. In less than half an hour, Iris
and her maid were at the door of the farm-house. No such civilised
inventions appeared as a knocker or a bell. The boy used his knuckles
instead--and ran away when he heard the lock of the door turned on the
inner side. He was afraid to be seen speaking to any living creature
who inhabited the "evicted farm."

A decent old woman appeared, and inquired suspiciously "what the ladies
wanted." The accent in which she spoke was unmistakably English. When
Iris asked for Mr. Arthur Mountjoy the reply was: "Not at home." The
housekeeper inhospitably attempted to close the door. "Wait one
moment," Iris said. "Years have changed you; but there is something in
your face which is not quite strange to me. Are you Mrs. Lewson?"

The woman admitted that this was her name. "But how is it that you are
a stranger to me?" she asked distrustfully.

"If you have been long in Mr. Mountjoy's service," Iris replied, "you
may perhaps have heard him speak of Miss Henley?"

Mrs. Lewson's face brightened in an instant; she threw the door wide
open with a glad cry of recognition.

"Come in, Miss, come in! Who would have thought of seeing you in this
horrible place? Yes; I was the nurse who lo