Once in the open air, Iris felt that she could breathe more freely, and a weight seemed lifted off her heart as she turned her steps in the direction of the humble abode in which she occupied a room with Jenny Mason.
At the very moment when Iris was descending the broad stone steps of the house in Lexington Avenue, a limousine was passing the door, and from the window of the vehicle a lady’s face looked out—the face of the rich widow who was Charles Broughton’s affianced wife.
Clara Neville had glanced toward the house occupied by the man she loved with some vague hope of seeing his face near one of the windows, or perhaps fancying that he might recognize her car and come down to speak with her.
There had been a smile on her lips, and a happy expression on her face when she turned toward the window that commanded the best view of Broughton’s residence, but this look had changed with the swiftness of a lightning’s flash to one of the wildest jealousy and intense hatred when her eyes fell upon the figure of Iris descending the steps from his door, and of Broughton himself standing in the doorway, and so intent on watching the girl’s retreating form that he did not once glance toward her car as it passed.
Almost choking with rage the widow pulled the check string and instructed her chauffeur to turn at the corner and keep Iris in sight until she reached her destination, no matter to what part of the city she might lead him.
“All right, ma’am,” the man answered respectfully, and while Iris walked slowly toward the place she called home, there was no voice in her heart to tell her of the woman who followed on her track and was destined to be the most cruel and bitter enemy against whom she would be forced to contend in the new and strange life now opening before her.
CHAPTER LIII.
HIDDEN PERILS.
Iris found Jenny at home, and terribly alarmed at her friend’s absence.
“Oh, Miss Ir—Maggie, I was so anxious about you,” she cried, embracing her companion affectionately.
These simple words and display of affection destroyed the last remnant of strength Iris had striven so hard to retain, and, throwing herself on Jenny’s breast, she sobbed as if her heart was breaking.