He heard those words. Still feeling for her--never, never for
himself!--he tried to soothe her. In the passion of her self-reproach,
she refused to hear him. Pacing the room from end to end, she fanned
the fiery emotion that was consuming her. Now, she reviled herself in
language that broke through the restraints by which good breeding sets
its seal on a woman's social rank. And now, again, she lost herself
more miserably still, and yielded with hysteric recklessness to a
bitter outburst of gaiety.
"If you wish to be married happily," she cried, "never be as fond of
any other woman as you have been of me. We are none of us worth it.
Laugh at us, Hugh--do anything but believe in us. We all lie, my
friend. And I have been lying--shamelessly! shamelessly!"
He tried to check her. "Don't talk in that way, Iris," he said sternly.
She laughed at him. "Talk?" she repeated. "It isn't that; it's a
confession."
"I don't desire to hear your confession."
"You must hear it--you have drawn it out of me. Come! we'll enjoy my
humiliation together. Contradict every word I said to you about that
brute and blackguard, the doctor--and you will have the truth. What
horrid inconsistency, isn't it? I can't help myself; I am a wretched,
unreasonable creature; I don't know my own mind for two days together,
and all through my husband--I am so fond of him; Harry is delightfully
innocent; he's like a nice boy; he never seemed to think of Mr.
Vimpany, till it was settled between them that the doctor was to come
and stay here----and then he persuaded me--oh, I don't know how!--to
see his friend in quite a new light. I believed him--and I believe him
still--I mean I would believe him, but for you. Will you do me a
favour? I wish you wouldn't look at me with those eyes that won't lie;
I wish you wouldn't speak to me with that voice which finds things out.
Oh, good Heavens, do you suppose I would let you think that my husband
is a bad man, and my marriage an unhappy one? Never! If it turns my
blood to sit and eat at the same table with Mr. Vimpany, I'm not cruel
enough to blame the dear doctor. It's my wickedness that's to blame. We
shall quarrel, if you tell me that Harry is capable of letting a rascal
be his friend. I'm happy; I'm happy; I'm happy!--do you understand
that? Oh, Hugh, I wish you had never come to see me!"