After a short interval, the drawing-room door was opened again. Waiting
on the threshold, the Irish lord asked if he might come in.
Iris replied coldly. "This is not my house," she said; "I must leave
you to decide for yourself."
Lord Harry crossed the room to speak to her and stopped. There was no
sign of relenting towards him in that dearly-loved face. "I wonder
whether it would be a relief to you," he suggested with piteous
humility, "if I went away?"
If she had been true to herself, she would have said, Yes. Where is the
woman to be found, in her place, with a heart hard enough to have set
her that example? She pointed to a chair. He felt her indulgence
gratefully. Following the impulse of the moment, he attempted to excuse
his conduct.
"There is only one thing I can say for myself," he confessed, "I didn't
begin by deceiving you. While you had your eye on me, Iris, I was an
honourable man."
This extraordinary defence reduced her to silence. Was there another
man in the world who would have pleaded for pardon in that way? "I'm
afraid I have not made myself understood," he said. "May I try again?"
"If you please."
The vagabond nobleman made a resolute effort to explain himself
intelligibly, this time: "See now! We said good-bye, over there, in the poor old island. Well,
indeed I meant it, when I owned that I was unworthy of you. I didn't
contradict you, when you said you could never be my wife, after such a
life as I have led. And, do remember, I submitted to your returning to
England, without presuming to make a complaint. Ah, my sweet girl, it
was easy to submit, while I could look at you, and hear the sound of
your voice, and beg for that last kiss--and get it. Reverend gentlemen
talk about the fall of Adam. What was that to the fall of Harry, when
he was back in his own little cottage, without the hope of ever seeing
you again? To the best of my recollection, the serpent that tempted Eve
was up a tree. I found the serpent that tempted Me, sitting waiting in
my own armchair, and bent on nothing worse than borrowing a trifle of
money. Need I say who she was? I don't doubt that you think her a
wicked woman."
Never ready in speaking of acts of kindness, on her own part, Iris
answered with some little reserve: "I have learnt to think better of
Mrs. Vimpany than you suppose."