opportunity prematurely. That is to say, she was rash enough to change
the subject.

"You were talking just now, Hugh, of our friend's adventures," she
said; "I am afraid you will find yourself involved in an adventure of
no very agreeable kind, if you engage a bed at the inn. I never saw a
more wretched-looking place."

It was one of Mrs. Vimpany's many merits that she seldom neglected an
opportunity of setting her friends at their ease.

"No, no, dear Miss Henley," she hastened to say; "the inn is really a
more clean and comfortable place than you suppose. A hard bed and a
scarcity of furniture are the worst evils which your friend has to
fear. Do you know," she continued, addressing herself to Mountjoy,
"that I was reminded of a friend of mine, when you spoke just now of
the young gentleman whose adventures are in the newspapers. Is it
possible that you referred to the brother of the present Earl of
Norland? A handsome young Irishman--with whom I first became acquainted
many years since. Am I right in supposing that you and Miss Henley know
Lord Harry?" she asked.

What more than this could an unprejudiced mind require? Mrs. Vimpany
had set herself right with a simplicity that defied suspicion. Iris
looked at Mountjoy. He appeared to know when he was beaten. Having
acknowledged that Lord Harry was the young gentleman of whom he and
Miss Henley had been speaking, he rose to take leave.

After what had passed, Iris felt the necessity of speaking privately to
Hugh. The necessary excuse presented itself in the remote situation of