s was
eager in praising the doctor's wife. "You can't imagine, Hugh, how
agreeable she has been, and how entirely she has convinced me that I
was wrong, shamefully wrong, in thinking of her as I did. She sees that
you dislike her, and yet she speaks so nicely of you. 'Your clever
friend enjoys your society,' she said; 'pray accompany me when I take
him to see the church.' How unselfish!"

Mountjoy kept his own counsel. The generous impulses which sometimes
led Iris astray were, as he well knew, beyond the reach of
remonstrance. His own opinion of Mrs. Vimpany still pronounced steadily
against her. Prepared for discoveries, on the next day, which might
prove too serious to be trifled with, he now did his best to provide
for future emergencies.

After first satisfying himself that there was nothing in the present
state of the maid's health which need detain her mistress at
Honeybuzzard, he next completed his preparations by returning to the
inn, and writing to Mr. Henley. With strict regard to truth, his letter
presented the daughter's claim on the father under a new point of view.
Whatever the end of it might be, Mr. Henley was requested to
communicate his intentions by telegraph. Will you receive Iris? was the
question submitted. The answer expected was: Yes or No.

CHAPTER VI

THE GAME: MOUNTJOY WINS

MR. HENLEY's telegram arrived at the inn the next morning.

He was willing to receive his daughter, but not unreservedly. The
message was characteristic of the man: "Yes--on trial." Mountjoy was
not shocked, was not even surprised. He knew that the successful
speculations, by means of which Mr. Henley had accumulated his wealth,
had raised against him enemies, who had spread scandalous reports which
had never been completely refuted. The silent secession of friends, in
whose fidelity he trusted, had hardened the man's heart and embittered
his nature. Strangers in distress, who appealed to the rich retired
merchant for help, found in their excellent references to character the
worst form of persuasion that they could have adopted. Paupers without
a rag of reputation left to cover them, were the objects of charity
whom Mr. Henley relieved. When he was asked to justify his conduct, he
said: "I have a sympathy with bad characters---I am one of them
myself."

With the arrival of the dinner hour the doctor appeared, in no very
amiable humour, at the inn.

"Another hard day's work," he said; "I should sink under i