Conspiracies -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Ireland -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction; Secret societies -- Fiction; Suspense fiction
"Iris! I have told you all. Let us go on as if you had heard nothing.
We cannot be more separated than we have been for the last three
months. Let us remain as we are until the time when you will be able to
feel for me--to pity my weakness--and to forgive me."
"You do not understand. Forgive you? It is no longer a question of
forgiveness. Who am I that my forgiveness should be of the least value
to you--or to any?"
"What is the question, then?"
"I don't know. A horrible crime has been committed--a horrible,
ghastly, dreadful crime--such a thing as one reads of in the papers and
wonders, reading it, what manner of wild beasts must be those who do
such things. Perhaps one wonders, besides, what manner of women must be
those who associate with those wild beasts. My husband is one of those
wild beasts!--my husband!--my husband!--and--I--I am one of the women
who are the fit companions of these wild creatures."
"You can say what you please, Iris; what you please."
"I have known--only since I came here have I really known and
understood--that I have wrecked my life in a blind passion. I have
loved you, Harry; it has been my curse. I followed you against the
warnings of everybody: I have been rewarded--by this. We are in hiding.
If we are found we shall be sent to a convict prison for conspiracy. We
shall be lucky if we are not tried for murder and hanged by the neck
until we are dead. This is my reward!"
"I have never played the hypocrite with you, Iris. I have never
pretended to virtues which I do not possess. So far--"
"Hush! Do not speak to me. I have something more to say, and then I
shall never speak to you any more. Hush! Let me collect my thoughts. I
cannot find the words. I cannot. . . Wait--wait! Oh!" She sat down and
burst into sobbings and moanings. But only for a minute. Then she
sprang to her feet again and dashed back the tears. "Time for crying,"
she said, "when all is done. Harry, listen carefully; these are my last
words. You will never hear from me any more. You must manage your own
life in your own way, to save it or to spoil it; I will never more bear
any part in it. I am going back to England--alone. I shall give up your
name, and I shall take my maiden name again--or some other. I shall
live somewhere quietly where you will not discover me. But perhaps you
will not look for me?"
"I will not," he said. "I owe you so much. I will not look for you."
"As regards the money which I have obtained for you under false
pretences, out of the fifteen thousand pounds for which you were
insured, five thousand have been paid to my private account. I shall
restore to the Company all that money."
"Good Heavens! Iris, you will be prosecuted on a criminal charge."
"Shall I? That will matter little, provided I make reparation. Alas!
who shall make reparation--who shall atone--for the blood-spilling? For
all things else in this world we may make what we call atonement; but
not for the spilling of blood."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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