ression of her gratitude.
"Your father has not sent me here--but he knows that I have left London
for the express purpose of seeing you, and he knows why. You have
written to him dutifully and affectionately; you have pleaded for
pardon and reconciliation, when he is to blame. Shall I venture to tell
you how he answered me, when I asked if he had no faith left in his own
child? 'Hugh,' he said, 'you are wasting words on a man whose mind is
made up. I will trust my daughter when that Irish lord is laid in his
grave--not before.' That is a reflection on you, Iris, which I cannot
permit, even when your father casts it. He is hard, he is unforgiving;
but he must, and shall, be conquered yet. I mean to make him do you
justice; I have come here with that purpose, and that purpose only, in
view. May I speak to you of Lord Harry?"

"How can you doubt it!"

"My dear, this is a delicate subject for me to enter on."

"And a shameful subject for me!" Iris broke out bitterly. "Hugh! you
are an angel, by comparison with that man--how debased I must be to
love him--how unworthy of your good opinion! Ask me anything you like;
have no mercy on me. Oh," she cried, with reckless contempt for
herself, "why don't you beat me? I deserve it!"

Mountjoy was well enough acquainted with the natures of women to pass
over that passionate outbreak, instead of fanning the flame in her by
reasoning and remonstrance.

"Your father will not listen to the expression of feeling," he
continued; "but it is possible to rouse his sense of justice by the
expression of facts. Help me to speak to him more plainly of Lord Harry
than you could speak in your letters. I want to know what has happened,
from the time when events at Ardoon brought you and the young lord
together again, to the time when you left him in Ireland after my
brother's death. If I seem to expect too much of you, Iris, pray
remember that I am speaking with a true regard for your interests."

In those words, he made his generous appeal to her. She proved herself
to be worthy of it.

Stated briefly, the retrospect began with the mysterious anonymous
letters which had been addressed to Sir Giles.

Lord Harry's explanation had been offered to Iris gratefully, but with
some reserve, after she had told him who the stranger at the milestone
really was. "I entreat you to pardon me, if I shrink from entering into
particulars," he had said. "Circumstances, at the time, amply justified
me in