Beaten again by Mrs. Vimpany--with no ties of relationship to justify
resistance to Miss Henley; with two women against him, entrenched
behind the privileges of their sex--the one last sacrifice of his own
feelings, in the interests of Iris, that Hugh could make was to control
the impulse which naturally urged him to leave the house. In the
helpless position in which he had now placed himself, he could only
wait to see what course Mrs. Vimpany might think it desirable to take.
Would she request him, in her most politely malicious way, to bring his
visit to an end? No: she looked at him--hesitated--directed a furtive
glance towards the view of the street from the window--smiled
mysteriously--and completed the sacrifice of her own feelings in these
words: "Dear Miss Henley, let me help you to pack up."
Iris positively refused.
"No," she said, "I don't agree with Mr. Mountjoy. My father leaves it
to me to name the day when we meet. I hold you, my dear, to our
engagement--I don't leave an affectionate friend as I might leave a
stranger."
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
lord's spy, and proving the accusation by challenging her to produce
the registered letter and the diamond pin.