respect--compared with one another, it is not possible to discover that
they present the same person. As for the evidence offered by the loving
memory of her friends, it is sure to be contradictory in the last
degree. She had a charming face, a commonplace face, an intelligent
face--a poor complexion, a delicate complexion, no complexion at
all--eyes that were expressive of a hot temper, of a bright intellect,
of a firm character, of an affectionate disposition, of a truthful
nature, of hysterical sensibility, of inveterate obstinacy--a figure
too short; no, just the right height; no, neither one thing nor the
other; elegant, if you like--dress shabby: oh, surely not; dress quiet
and simple; no, something more than that; ostentatiously quiet,
theatrically simple, worn with the object of looking unlike other
people. In one last word, was this mass of contradictions generally
popular, in the time when it was a living creature? Yes--among the men.
No--not invariably. The man of all others who ought to have been
fondest of her was the man who behaved cruelly to Iris--her own father.
And, when the poor creature married (if she did marry), how many of you
attended the wedding? Not one of us! And when she died, how many of you
were sorry for her? All of us! What? no difference of opinion in that
one particular? On the contrary, perfect concord, thank God.

Let the years roll back, and let Iris speak for herself, at the
memorable time when she was in the prime of her life, and when a stormy
career was before her.

IV

BEING Miss Henley's godfather, Sir Giles was a privileged person. He
laid his hairy hands on her shoulders, and kissed her on either cheek.
After that prefatory act of endearment, he made his inquiries. What