Even if Mr. Mountjoy communicated his discoveries to Miss Henley, on
the way home, there would be no danger now of her believing him. Mrs.
Vimpany put her powerful arm round the generous Iris, and, with
infinite grace, thanked her by a kiss.

"Your kindness will make my lonely lot in life harder than ever to
bear," she murmured, "when you are gone."

"But we may hope to meet in London," Iris reminded her; "unless Mr.
Vimpany alters his mind about leaving this place."

"My husband will not do that, dear. He is determined to try his luck,
as he says, in London. In the meantime you will give me your address,
won't you? Perhaps you will even promise to write to me?"

Iris instantly gave her promise, and wrote down her address in London.

Mountjoy made no attempt to interfere: it was needless.

If the maid had not fallen ill on the journey, and if Mrs. Vimpany had
followed Miss Henley to London, there would have been little to fear in
the discovery of her address--and there was little to fear now. The
danger to Iris was not in what might happen while she was living under
her father's roof, but in what might happen if she was detained (by
plans for excursions) in Mr. Vimpany's house, until Lord Harry might
join her there.

Rather than permit this to happen, Hugh (in sheer desperation)
meditated charging Mrs. Vimpany, to her face, with being the Irish