which was not lost on Mountjoy.

"I must be sure," he said to her gravely, "of what I tell your father
when I go back to him. Can I declare, with a safe conscience, that you
will never see Lord Harry again?"

"My mind is made up never to see him again." She had answered firmly so
far. Her next words were spoken with hesitation, in tones that
faltered. "But I am sometimes afraid," she said, "that the decision may
not rest with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I would rather not tell you."

"That is a strange answer, Iris."

"I value your good opinion, Hugh, and I am afraid of losing it."

"Nothing has ever altered my opinion of you," he replied, "and nothing
ever will."

She looked at him anxiously, with the closest attention. Little by
little, the expression of doubt in her face disappeared; she knew how
he loved her--she resolved to trust him.

"My friend," she began abruptly, "education has done nothing for me.
Since I left Ireland, I have sunk (I don't know how or why) into a
state of superstitious fear. Yes! I believe in a fatality which is
leading me back to Lord Harry, in spite of myself. Twice already, since
I left home, I have met with him; and each time I have been the means
of saving him--once at the milestone, and once at the ruin in the wood.
If my father still accuses me of being in love with an adventurer, you
can say with perfect truth that I am afraid of him. I _am_ afraid of
the third meeting. I have done my best to escape from that man; and,
step by step, as I think I am getting away, Destiny is taking me back
to him. I may be on my way to him here, hidden in this wretched little
town. Oh, don't despise me! Don't be ashamed of me!"

"My dear, I am interested--deeply interested in you. That there may be
some such influence as Destiny in our poor mortal lives, I dare not
deny. But I don't agree with your conclusion. What Destiny has to do
with you and with me, neither you nor I can pretend to know beforehand.
In the presence of that great mystery, humanity must submit to be
ignorant. Wait, Iris--wait!"

She answered him with the simplicity of a docile child: "I will do
anything you tell me."

Mountjoy was too fond of her to say more of Lord Harry, for that day.
He was careful to lead the talk to a topic which might be trusted to
provoke no agitating thoughts. Finding Iris to all appearance
established in the doctor's house, he was naturally anxious to know
something of the person who must have