Blind Love | Page 7

was a problem for
patient resolution to solve. The banker's obstinacy, rather than his
conviction, had encouraged him to hold to the hope of Hugh's marriage,
even after his nephew had been refused for the second time. His
headstrong goddaughter had come to visit him of her own accord. She
had not forgotten the days of her childhood, when he had some
influence over her--when she had found him kinder to her than her
father had ever been. Sir Giles saw that he had taken the wrong tone
with Iris. His anger had not alarmed her; his opinion had not influenced
her. In Hugh's interests, he determined to try what consideration and
indulgence would do towards cultivating the growth of her regard for
him. Finding that she had left her maid and her luggage at the hotel, he
hospitably insisted on their removal to his own house.
"While you are in Ardoon, Iris, you are my guest," he said.
She pleased him by readily accepting the invitation--and then annoyed

him by asking again if he had heard anything of Lord Harry.
He answered shortly and sharply: "I have heard nothing. What is your
last news of him?"
"News," she said, "which I sincerely hope is not true. An Irish paper
has been sent to me, which reports that he has joined the secret
society--nothing better than a society of assassins, I am afraid--which is
known by the name of the Invincibles."
As she mentioned that formidable brotherhood, Dennis Howmore
returned from the police-office. He announced that a Sergeant was then
waiting to receive instructions from Sir Giles.
V
IRIS rose to go. Her godfather courteously stopped her.
"Wait here," he said, "until I have spoken to the Sergeant, and I will
escort you to my house. My clerk will do what is necessary at the hotel.
You don't look quite satisfied. Is the arrangement that I have proposed
not agreeable to you?"
Iris assured him that she gratefully acceded to the arrangement. At the
same time, she confessed to having been a little startled, on discovering
that he was in consultation with the police. "I remember that we are in
Ireland," she explained, "and I am foolish enough to fear that you may
be in some danger. May I hope that it is only a trifle?"
Only a trifle! Among ether deficient sensibilities in the strange nature
of Iris, Sir Giles had observed an imperfect appreciation of the dignity
of his social position. Here was a new proof of it! The temptation to
inspire sentiments of alarm--not unmingled with admiration--in the
mind of his insensible goddaughter, by exhibiting himself as a public
character threatened by a conspiracy, was more than the banker's vanity
could resist. Before he left the room, he instructed Dennis to tell Miss
Henley what had happened, and to let her judge for herself whether he
had been needlessly alarmed by, what she was pleased to call, "a mere

trifle."
Dennis Howmore must have been more than mortal, if he could have
related his narrative of events without being influenced by his own
point of view. On the first occasion when he mentioned Arthur
Mountjoy's name, Iris showed a sudden interest in his strange story
which took him by surprise.
"You know Mr. Arthur?" he said.
"Knew him!" Iris repeated. "He was my playfellow when we were both
children. He is as dear to me as if he was my brother. Tell me at
once--is he really in danger?"
Dennis honestly repeated what he had already said, on that subject, to
his master. Miss Henley, entirely agreeing with him, was eager to warn
Arthur of his position. There was no telegraphic communication with
the village which was near his farm. She could only write to him, and
she did write to him, by that day's post--having reasons of her own for
anxiety, which forbade her to show her letter to Dennis. Well aware of
the devoted friendship which united Lord Harry and Arthur
Mountjoy--and bearing in mind the newspaper report of the Irish lord's
rash association with the Invincibles--her fears now identified the noble
vagabond as the writer of the anonymous letters, which had so
seriously excited her godfather's doubts of his own safety.
When Sir Giles returned, and took her with him to his house, he spoke
of his consultation with the Sergeant in terms which increased her
dread of what might happen in the future. She was a dull and silent
guest, during the interval that elapsed before it would be possible to
receive Arthur's reply. The day arrived--and the post brought no relief
to her anxieties. The next day passed without a letter. On the morning
of the fourth day, Sir Giles rose later than usual. His correspondence
was sent to him from the office, at