Miles ventured to say a word: "I hope you won't be angry with me, my
lord"----

"Stuff and nonsense! Was I ever angry with you, when I was rich enough
to keep a servant, and when you were the man?"

The Irish groom answered in a voice that trembled with strong feeling.
"You were the best and kindest master that ever lived on this earth. I
can't see you putting your precious life in peril"----

"My precious life?" Lord Harry repeated lightly. "You're thinking of
Mr. Mountjoy, when you say that. _His_ life is worth saving. As for my
life"---- He ended the sentence by a whistle, as the best way he could
hit on of expressing his contempt for his own existence.

"My lord! my lord!" Miles persisted; "the Invincibles are beginning to
doubt you. If any of them find you hanging about Mr. Mountjoy's farm,
they'll try a shot at you first, and ask afterwards whether it was
right to kill you or not."

To hear this said--and said seriously--after the saving of him at the
milestone, was a trial of her firmness which Iris was unable to resist.
Love got the better of prudence. She drew back the window-curtain. In
another moment, she would have added her persuasion to the servant's
warning, if Lord Harry himself had not accidentally checked her by a
proceeding, on his part, for which she was not prepared.

"Show the light," he said; "I'll write a line to Mr. Mountjoy."

He tore off the blank page from the note to the housekeeper, and wrote
to Arthur, entreating him to change the time of his departure from
Rathco, and to tell no creature in the house, or out of the house, at
what new hour he had arranged to go. "Saddle your horse yourself," the
letter concluded. It was written in a feigned hand, without a
signature.

"Give that to Mr. Mountjoy," Lord Harry said. "If he asks who wrote it,
don't frighten him about me by telling the truth. Lie, Miles! Say you
don't know." He next returned the note for Mrs. Lewson. "If she notices
that it has been opened," he resumed, "and asks who has done it, lie
again. Good-night, Miles--and mind those dangerous places on your road
home."

The groom darkened his lantern; and the wild lord was lost to view,
round the side of the house.

Left by himself, Miles rapped at the door with the handle of his whip.
"A letter from Mr. Arthur," he called out. Mrs. Lewson at once took the
note, and examined it by the light of the candle on the hall-table.
"Somebody has been reading this!" she exclaimed, st