for the express purpose of seeing you, and he knows why. You have
written to him dutifully and affectionately; you have pleaded for
pardon and reconciliation, when he is to blame. Shall I venture to tell
you how he answered me, when I asked if he had no faith left in his own
child? 'Hugh,' he said, 'you are wasting words on a man whose mind is
made up. I will trust my daughter when that Irish lord is laid in his
grave--not before.' That is a reflection on you, Iris, which I cannot
permit, even when your father casts it. He is hard, he is unforgiving;
but he must, and shall, be conquered yet. I mean to make him do you
justice; I have come here with that purpose, and that purpose only, in
view. May I speak to you of Lord Harry?"

"How can you doubt it!"

"My dear, this is a delicate subject for me to enter on."

"And a shameful subject for me!" Iris broke out bitterly. "Hugh! you
are an angel, by comparison with that man--how debased I must be to
love him--how unworthy of your good opinion! Ask me anything you like;
have no mercy on me. Oh," she cried, with reckless contempt for
herself, "why don't you beat me? I deserve it!"

Mountjoy was well enough acquainted with the natures of women to pass
over that passionate outbreak, instead of fanning the flame in her by
reasoning and remonstrance.

"Your father will not listen to the expression of feeling," he
continued; "but it is possible to rouse his sense of justice by the
expression of facts. Help me to speak to him more plainly of Lord Harry
than you could speak in your letters. I want to know what has happened,