Iris
looked at Mountjoy. He appeared to know when he was beaten. Having
acknowledged that Lord Harry was the young gentleman of whom he and
Miss Henley had been speaking, he rose to take leave.
After what had passed, Iris felt the necessity of speaking privately to
Hugh. The necessary excuse presented itself in the remote situation of
the inn. "You will never find your way back," she said, "through the
labyrinth of crooked streets in this old town. Wait for me a minute,
and I will be your guide."
Mrs. Vimpany protested. "My dear! let the servant show the way."
Iris held gaily to her resolution, and ran away to her room. Mrs.
Vimpany yielded with her best grace. Miss Henley's motive could hardly
have been plainer to her, if Miss Henley had confessed it herself.
"What a charming girl!" the doctor's amiable wife said to Mountjoy,
when they were alone. "If I were a man, Miss Iris is just the young
lady that I should fall in love with." She looked significantly at
Mountjoy. Nothing came of it. She went on: "Miss Henley must have had
many opportunities of being married; but the right man has, I fear, not
yet presented himself." Once more her eloquent eyes consulted Mountjoy,
and once more nothing came of it.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102