For a month, Mountjoy remained in his cottage on the shores of the
Solway Firth, superintending the repairs.
His correspondence with Iris was regularly continued; and, for the
first time in his experience of her, was a cause of disappointment to
him.
Her replies revealed an incomprehensible change in her manner of
writing, which became more and more marked in each succeeding instance.
Notice it as he might in his own letters, no explanation followed on
the part of his correspondent. She, who had so frankly confided her
joys and sorrows to him in past days, now wrote with a reserve which
seemed only to permit the most vague and guarded allusion to herself.
The changes in the weather; the alternation of public news that was
dull, and public news that was interesting; the absence of her father
abroad, occasioned by doubt of the soundness of his investments in
foreign securities; vague questions relating to Hugh's new place of
abode, which could only have proceeded from a preoccupied mind--these
were the topics on which Iris dwelt, in writing to her faithful old
friend. It was hardly possible to doubt that something must have
happened, which she had reasons--serious reasons, as it seemed only too
natural to infer--for keeping concealed from Mountjoy. Try as he might
to disguise it from himself, he now knew how dear, how hopelessly dear,
she was to him by the anxiety that he suffered, and by the jealous
sense of injury which defied his self-command. His immediate
superintendence of the workmen at the cottage was no longer necessary.
Leaving there a representative whom he could trust, he resolved to
answer his last letter, received from Iris, in person.