Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-11-22
THE GAMBLER
KATHERINE CECIL THURSTOIl,
Author of 1.-THE Masquerader," Etc.
Copyright

| banished from her mind. With a sense Of
acute surprise she recognized the figure OF
| Sir Walter Gore.
Taking no notice of her dismayed silence,
he came quietly forward.
Good evening, Mrs. Milbanke," he said.
Have you been enjoying yoursef?'
With certain vague confusion she met
his gaze.
YES" she answered. IL suppose So"
There was short silence; and Gore.
moving to the balcony railing, rested his
arm upon 1t.
''It is getting late" he said. Time for
| us all to be thinking of our hotels.
Again Clodagh looked at him in faint be-
wilderment
Yes. II suppose So she said once
J more.
Another pause succeeded her hating
words; then, with gesture Of decision,
Gore stood upright, bringing his glance
back to her face.
Mrs. Milbanke," he said, suddenly, 'Iet
me take you home! l have a gondola wait
ing at the steps"
The words were so totally unexpected
that Clodagh remained mute, and. leaning
forward, looked down into the heavy
shadows cast by the ancient palace. There
was a strange sensation of triumph in this
unlooked-for moment, in this sudden capitu-
lation of man who had previously ignored
her: sensation before which all lesser
things-Deerehurst's passion, Serracauld's
ardor, Barnard's friendship-became mean
ingless and vague.
But Gore, guessing nothing from her
bent head, glanced behind him toward the
salon.
"Well?' he said. May I be your es-
cort?"
Under cover of the dusk Clodagh smiled
Mr.. Barnard generally takes me
Involuntarily Cores figure stiffened.
But she added, in a low, quick
whisper, II would very much rather go
back with YOU
Under many conditions the words would
have seemed bold; but the manner in
which she uttered them disarmed criti-
cism. Cores face relaxed.
Then let us make our escape" he said.
Lady Frances is settling a bridge dis
pute, and quite dozen people have slipped
away in the last ten minutes. No one will
question which of them has taken you
home
And Clodagh gave short, light laugh of
sudden pleasure. The small conspiracy
made Gore so much more human-drew
them so much closer together than they
had been before.
"Yes-yes,' she said, eagerly. "And 1 am
lunching with Lady Frances tomorrow. I
can explain then.
Yes. Quite so. Now, If you are ready"
He moved to the window.
Very quietly they re-entered the salon,
and flush crossed Clodagh's face she
saw Deerehust bending over a card table
with the nearest approach to boredom and
impatience she had ever known him to
evince. Her heart, already beating to the
ed leap at this silent evidence of her power.
In the corridor outside the salon Gore
took her cloak from the servant, and HIM
self wrapped 1t about her as they de-
scended the stairs then, passing to the
flight of worn steps that led to the water,
he signaled to waiting gondolier
Mrs. Milbanke,' he said, as he offered
her his hand, Il going to make a
strange request. 1 want to talk to you for
half an hour before taking you home. Will
you give me leave to make a tour of the
canals?" He spoke very quietly and in
tone difficult to construe.
i At his curious appeal her heart gave an
other quick, excited throb, though instinct
lively she realized that neither Deerehurst,
Serracauld nor Barnard would have pro-
posed midnight excursion in quite his
voice or manner. But the very mode of the
| request enhanced it's charm. She looked up
! into his face as she laid her hand in his.
II give you leave" she said gently.
He met her glance, but almost imme-
diately averted his eyes. And as he handed
her to the seat he turned swiftly to the
: gondolier, addressing him in Italian
The colloquy lasted but few seconds,
I and at it's conclusion the boat shot silently
out into the canal.
This man does not understand a word of
| English he said. as he dropped into his
! place by Clodagh's side.
Again his words were peculiarly sug-
gestive, and again his tone was curiously
| frank. Why should he suggest that their
conversation was unintelligible?-and sug-
! gest it in so impersonal a tone? She leaned
| back in her cushioned seat and let her eye
! lids droop. Her mind was full of puzzling
and delightful thoughts. Never had she
| tasted the mystery of Venice as she tasted
| 1t tonight. Every passing breath of wind,
every scent blown from the dark and silent
gardens, every distant laugh or broken
| word was alive with unguessed meanings.
| The feverish excitement Of the past week
seemed to fall away. This was romance
| this drifting with inscrutable companion
through unfathomable night!
Her eyes closed; she lay almost notion
less filled with an aimless, vague delight.
All creation-with all creations limitless
possbilities-lay in the warm darkness that
enveloped her. Then, with the instinct of
senses newly and sharply astir. she became
conscious that Gore was watching her.
With thrill of expectancy and authorization
she opened her eyes.
There is something very curious-some-
thing subtle and almost intimate-in the
opening of ones eyes upon the steady
scrutiny of another. AS Clodagh raised
her lids her glance encountered Cores; but
on the instant that their eyes met her Joy
in the moment-her exultant triumph-was
suddenly killed For the look that she sur
prised not the look she had antici-
pated. 1t was interested-it was attentive;
1t was grave; but 1t held no subjugation
nor passion. AS her brain woke to this
realization she involuntarily raised herself
in the luxurious. cushioned seat
At the same moment her companion
leaned slightly forward.
Mrs. Mlbanke," he said, quickly, II
nave DcSH Watching you anu tulIlklIlS ABOUT
you ever since l came to Venice, and at
last 1 have decided that I must tell you
what my thoughts have been.
II am not very old-perhaps I have no
right to speak. But a man sees good deal
of life, even If he wants to keep his eyes
shut; and have seen great many people
throw away their chances-take the false
and refuse the true. have seen some men
do it, and have seen many women-many,
many women" He paused, but did not
look at her. ut is a common, everyday
occurrence; so common that one generally
looks on at 1t with Indifference. But some
times-just sometimes-one stops to think.
One feels the great, great pity Of it,
He paused again, looking fixedly down at
| the strip of carpet beneath their feet.
Clodagh glanced at him-a swift search
| ing, almost surreptitious look.
"Mrs. Mlbanke, there are times when
one stops to think" He raised his head
and looked at Clodagh. sitting erect and
pale, her large eyes wide open, her hands
clasped in her lap. There are times when
| it seems cruel-when 1t seems a sacrilege to
see girl going down the easy road of lost
| illusions and callous sentiments. know
| this sounds incomprehensible-so i'm
pertinent. But I cannot help myself I
| must tell you what no one else will tell
you. must put out my hand"
bod Md, .afl<