Mountjoy began by alluding to the second of Miss Henley's letters to
her father, and to a passage in it which mentioned Mrs. Vimpany with
expressions of the sincerest gratitude.
"I should like to know more," he said, "of a lady whose hospitality at
home seems to equal her kindness as a fellow-traveller. Did you first
meet with her on the railway?"
"She travelled by the same train to Dublin, with me and my maid, but
not in the same carriage," Iris answered; "I was so fortunate as to
meet with her on the voyage from Dublin to Holyhead. We had a rough
crossing; and Rhoda suffered so dreadfully from sea-sickness that she
frightened me. The stewardess was attending to ladies who were calling
for her in all directions; I really don't know what misfortune might
not have happened, if Mrs. Vimpany had not come forward in the kindest
manner, and offered help. She knew so wonderfully well what was to be
done, that she astonished me. 'I am the wife of a doctor,' she said;
'and I am only imitating what I have seen my husband do, when his
assistance has been required, at sea, in weather like this.' In her
poor state of health, Rhoda was too much exhausted to go on by the
train, when we got to Holyhead. She is the best of good girls, and I am
fond of her, as you know. If I had been by myself, I daresay I should
have sent for medical help. What do you think dear Mrs. Vimpany offered
to do? 'Your maid is only faint,' she said. 'Give her rest and some
iced wine, and she will be well enough to go on by the slow train.
Don't be frightened about her; I will wait with you.' And she did wait.
Are there many strangers, Hugh, who are as unselfishly good to others
as my chance-acquaintance in the steamboat?"
"Very few, I am afraid."
Mountjoy made that reply with some little embarrassment; conscious of a
doubt of Mrs. Vimpany's disinterested kindness, which seemed to be
unworthy of a just man.
Iris went on.
"Rhoda was sufficiently recovered," she said, "to travel by the next
train, and there seemed to be no reason for feeling any more anxiety.
But, after a time, the fatigue of the journey proved to be too much for
her. The poor girl turned pale--and fainted. Mrs. Vimpany revived her,
but as it turned out, only for a while. She fell into another fainting
fit; and my travelling-companion began to look anxious. There was some
difficulty in restoring Rhoda to her senses. In dread of another
attack, I determined to stop at the next station. It looked such a poor
place, when we got to it, that I hesitated. Mrs. Vimpany persuaded me
to go on. The next station, she said, was her station. 'Stop there,'
she suggested, 'and let my husband look at the girl. I ought not
perhaps to say it, but you will find no better medical man out of
London.' I took the good creature's advice gratefully. What else could
I do?"