Iris had only to remember the manner in which she and Mountjoy had
disappointed her father, to perceive the serious necessity of
preventing Mountjoy's rival from paying a visit at Mr. Henley's house.
She wrote at once to Lord Harry, at the hotel which Mr. Vimpany had
mentioned, entreating him not to think of calling on her. Being well
aware that he would insist on a meeting, she engaged to write again and
propose an appointment. In making this concession, Iris might have
found it easier to persuade herself that she was yielding to sheer
necessity, if she had not been guiltily conscious of a feeling of
pleasure at the prospect of seeing Lord Harry again, returning to her
an innocent man. There was some influence, in this train of thought,
which led her mind back to Hugh. She regretted his absence--wondered
whether he would have proposed throwing her letter to the Irish lord
into the fire--sighed, closed the envelope, and sent the letter to the
post.
On the next day, she had arranged to drive to Muswell Hill, and to pay
the customary visit to Rhoda. Heavy rain obliged her to wait for a
fitter opportunity. It was only on the third day that the sky cleared,
and the weather was favourable again. On a sunshiny autumn morning,
with a fine keen air blowing, she ordered the open carriage. Noticing,
while Fanny Mere was helping her to dress, that the girl looked even
paler than usual, she said, with her customary kindness to persons
dependent on her, "You look as if a drive in the fresh air would do you
good--you shall go with me to the farm, and see Rhoda Bennet."
When they stopped at the house, the farmer's wife appeared, attending a
gentleman to the door. Iris at once recognised the local medical man.
"You're not in attendance, I hope, on Rhoda Bennet?" she said.
The doctor acknowledged that there had been some return of the nervous
derangement from which the girl suffered. He depended mainly (he said)
on the weather allowing her to be out as much as possible in the fresh
air, and on keeping her free from all agitation. Rhoda was so far on
the way to recovery, that she was now walking in the garden by his
advice. He had no fear of her, provided she was not too readily
encouraged, in her present state, to receive visitors. Her mistress
would be, of course, an exception to this rule. But even Miss Henley
would perhaps do well not to excite the girl by prolonging her visit.
There was one other suggestion which he would venture to make, while he
had the opportunity. Rhoda was not, as he thought, warmly enough
clothed for the time of year; and a bad cold might be easily caught by
a person in her condition.