Strange, isn't it? I
have lived a life of deceit, among bad people. What could you expect of
me, after that? I heaped lies on lies--I would have denied that the sun
was in the heavens--rather than find myself degraded in your opinion.
Well! that is all over--useless, quite useless now. Pray don't mistake
me. I am not attempting to excuse myself; a confession was due to you;
the confession is made. It is too late to hope that you will forgive
me. If you will permit it, I have only one favour to ask. Forget me."
She turned away with a last hopeless look, who said as plainly as if in
words: "I am not worth a reply."
Generous Iris insisted on speaking to her.
"I believe you are truly sorry for what you have done," she said; "I
can never forget that--I can never forget You." She held out her
pitying hand. Mrs. Vimpany was too bitterly conscious of the past to
touch it. Even a spy is not beneath the universal reach of the
heartache. There were tears in the miserable woman's eyes when she had
looked her last at Iris Henley.
CHAPTER XII
LORD HARRY's DEFENCE
AFTER a short interval, the drawing-room door was opened again. Waiting
on the threshold, the Irish lord asked if he might come in.
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