Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1898-10-19
CHAPTER MY

more so than Henrietta or his mother
neither Of whom shared her profound
forebodIns or evu. 10 them. Ms abstrac-
uon, his Indifference to all that formerly
interested him, the distressed expression
OF his eyes, sometimes so dull, sometimes
Wild and reckless. were only marks Of nat
ural but unusually deep grief. To Dorothy
they were indications Of mental anguish
too strong for the control Of reason.
1t was, therefore, with n sense of in
finite relief she heard Collins tap at the
door, as she was changing her warm
outdoor dress for one of lighter material,
and say, in brisk, cheerful tone:
III You please, miss, the Colonel has
come. He is in the drawing room"
Callander was sitting by the fire in n
large armchair, his hand on Dolly's head.
Both children We're standing by him de-
murely, gazing with wondering, awed eyes
at their now half-forgottcn father. All
seemed silent
Dear Herbert, am so delighted to see
you! cried Dorothy, r1nning to greet and
embrace him. He smiled absently. and
stretched out his hand to her. "Why did
you not write? l fekS so anxious about
you"
Il was quite well. 1 had nothing to
, write about"
The tete-a-tete which ensued was very
trying. Callander sat quite still afte,
the children had retired, answering the
observations she forced herself to make
from time to time with monosylla bles. or
| the briefest possible sentences. She
thought dinner would never be announc-
ed. How Dorothy longed for Standish
She WAS growing nervous-fooHshly ner-
vous.
When they returned to the drawing
room Callander again took the large easy
chair. Dorothy began some needlework,
and sat opposite him, in token of her
! readiness to converse If he was so inclin-
ed. He kept silence so long that Dorothy
I thought he was asleep.
Suddenly he sat upright and exclaim-
ed: You are not like her, and yet you are.
You haven't her beauty
Il know that well, Herbert" she re-
turned, hoping he would relieve his mind
by talking OF the dear dead.
'Still she looks out of your eyes at me
sometimes, Dorothy, and then l don't
know whether hate or love you! You
used to be like daughter to me, and
you are a good, kind girl. You must al
ways take care of those poor childrenp'
Eyes, will, to the best Of my ability -
said Dorothy, with difficulty keeping back
her tears.
You must never let my mother ge,
hold of them, mind that"
''I hope you will stay with them, and
order what is to be done for them. As
to Mrs. Callander, why are you so un-
kind to her? She Is very unhappy"
Because ! cannot forget how unkind
she was to my lost darling" he returned
sterDly. "And you should not forget i,
either! I can never forgive her. And she
! wants to make out that am weak-weak
in brainl She sent that fellow, Dillon, to
dog my steps down at Fordsear'
Indeed, l am sure she did not. he
! often goes down to Eastport in his end.
less search for traces of-of-" She
hesitated.
"Of the murderer" added Callander
with composure. "Ay, he may search
But II alone must punish, tell you.
may wait, but will have my revenge
by my own handF'
! Dorothy felt uneasy, but she wisely
avoided contradicting him, and so KEPT
silence. Callander, now fully reused
stood up and began to pace the room.
"What has Egerton been doing? Has
he written?"
"Yes-he thinks he has found som.
traces"
"Ha, ha. haT' laughed Callander-rath.
er a terrible laugh. "He will never find
/ the murderer away thereAneverv' And
he paused opposite her.
"At all events, he said, in his letter to
Paul Standish-"
"StandishH' repeated Callander, with q
, deadly, bitter tone, one that made the
word sound like curse. "Why do you
speak his name to me? / wonder you
darer' And he resumed his restless walk
This seemed to Dorothy an opportunity
for asking an explanation Of his mysteri.
Gus dislike to her guardian.
Il do not know why should not name
him, Herbert. Tell me why you dislike
him. 1t might relieve your mind
Tell you?" he repeated, tell you!
have sometimes wished to tell you, that
yOu might know what subtle devil
He broke off, and mutte-ed something tc
himself There" he resumed, you low
ed her well. You would shield her mem
ory WE'LL
Il would do anything for her sake-any.
thing to comfort your cried Dorothy, un.
able to restrain her tears.
Cailander paced the room in silence fol
another minute, then he suddenly sal
down beside her on the sofa, which was
her usual seat, and, taking both hel
hands, which he held tightly, he said, low
and quick: Il viii tell yor all-all!
found II out before-iust before-we los
her. 1t was my mother pointed it out
But before that, before left India, tber'
was a change, faint change in her let
tcrs. You would not have seen it-no oD'
would have seen it but lover such as
was, ! felt and knew that somethin,
had come between u.s." Dorothy sat lis
tening motionless, with curdling blood
Had he indeed discovered the truth?
MY mother wrote that Standish almos
lived with her and you, but l would no
| notice her insinuations. Then cam
home. and | knew there was change
Still. she had some love for me, but h
was always at her ear! He would no
let her come away with me alone! ina
would have made all right. So deter
t mined to have his life; but she-she-
l His voice failed him, and he paused, pan,
ing. big drops standing on his brow.
e "rauI Standish!'' cried Dorothy
wrenching her hands from him, all he
force and courage returning. Paul Star
dish is as innocent as / am. What-wh
e put this horrible idea into your head
= You did not believe your mother, VIII
| told you this horrible lie?"
! 1T is no liev' he said, with moan hk
that of creature in pain. Il saw 1t
? Ter own writing"
o "She never wrote anything to Pal
Standish which the whole world migf
4 not see. Who has imposed upon your
[ "Ah! you do not know. Neither sh
nor he would speak Of auch evil thinl