last attempt to give her
husband an opportunity of trusting her. He was not in his room, not in
any other part of the house, not in the garden. The hours passed--she
was left to eat her dinner in solitude. For the second time, he was
avoiding her. For the second time, he distrusted the influence of his
wife. With a heavy heart she prepared for her departure by the
night-mail.

The duties of the new nurse kept her in the cottage. Filled with alarm
for the faithful creature whom she was leaving--to what fate, who could
say?--Iris kissed her at parting.

Fanny's faint blue eyes filled with tears. She dashed them away, and
held her mistress for an instant in her arms. "I know whom you are
thinking of," she whispered. "He is not here to bid you good-bye. Let
me see what I can find in his room." Iris had already looked round the
room, in the vain hope of finding a letter. Fanny rushed up the stairs,
determined on a last search--and ran down again with a folded morsel of
flimsy foreign notepaper in her hand. "My ugly eyes are quicker than
yours," she said. "The air must have come in at the window and blown it
off the table." Iris eagerly read the letter:

"I dare not deny that you will be better away from us, but only for a
while. Forgive me, dearest; I cannot find the courage to say good-bye."
Those few words spoke for him--and no more.

Briefly on her side, but not unkindly, his wife answered him:

"You have spared me a bitter moment. May I hope to find the man whom I
have trusted and honoured, when I come back? Good-bye."

When were they to meet again? And how?

CHAPTER XLVII

THE PATIENT AND MY LORD

THERE now remained but one other person in Lord Harry's household whose
presence on the scene was an obstacle to be removed.

This person was the cook. On condition of her immediate departure
(excused by alleged motives of economy), she received a month's wages
from her master, in advance of the sum due to her, and a written
character which did ample justice to her many good qualities. The poor
woman left her employment with the heartiest expressions of gratitude.
To the end of her days, she declared the Irish lord to be a nobleman by
nature. Republican principles, inherited from her excellent parents,
disinclined her to recognise him as a nobleman by birth.

But another sweet and simple creature was still left to brighten the
sinister gloom in the cottage.

The good Dane sorely tried the patience of Fanny