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.
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