Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-07-29
CHAPTER xxxIII.
Djala.

| Evelyn recovered consciousness after
| that which seemed a very night of evil
| dreaming, but which was in reality no more
! than a brief half-hour of insensibility.
| Greatly weakened by the struggle and the
swoon attending It, she lay for some while
unable to lift herself upon the bed
where they had laid her or to take any no.
/ tice of the room to which she had been car
| ried. When her strength returned some
what, and a sudden memory of the cireum-
stances of her visit REQUIRED to her, she sat
up Immediately, great fear at her heart
and dread upon her such as she had never
| suffered before
What house was it? Who was its owner?
/ What was the meaning of the insult placed
upon her? The question raced through her
brain SO quickly that she found an answer
| to none of them. AT one time she could al
most believe that her own father was privy
| to the outrage and had led to this desperate
| course by his detestation of the role she
| played in London. Rejecting this immedi-
| ateiy because of her love for him, she was
/ then tempted to say that Odin relied upon
his threats and believed that she would sub
NIT to him to save Gavin's life. This ap-
| peared the more plausible story. Was not
| the from the east Roumanian with
| but primitive ideas of a modern civilization,
and the of a country wherein women
were still little better than the silent VIC
| Tins of mems passions? Perhaps he believed
| that he could carry her out of England 1t
might be even that.
She was in spacious bed room, fur
| nished, so far as the dim light would per-
| nit her TO see, in modern style and with
many evidences of later-day luxury. A
4 fresh fire, burning with light flame in an
| open CRATE, cast flashing rays upon darkly
papered walls and the heavy pictures which
| ornamented them. sofa had been drawn
| up before the fire and showed its pattern in
| the ftful beams; there was an electric
| chandelier above dressing table and a
single reading lamp upon little table by
! no darkness
| degree unknown to her, Evelyn tried to find
| the switch by which the lamp might be
/ lighted; but her cold hands bungled it and,
| despairing, she rose from the bed and
| crossed the room toward the heavily cur
| tanned window.
| Was escape TO be thought Of? In sober
| reason, no; but sober reason says nothing
| to woman driven by the supreme dread
| of wrong and guarding her courage even
| while she Is afraid. Evelyn knew In her
| own mind that SO shrewd and daring
| schemer as Count Odin would leave her no
| Ioophole, neglect no precautfon, nor spare
| any insult by which his own safety might
| be assured She knew it and yet must
go to the window and draw the curtains
| back and touch the heavy shutters and feel
| her heart sink when she came to see that
/ they were twice barred and that no wom-
ans hand could open them. Despair alone
! could have led her to believe that the count
/ would be so foolish; but despair did not
| mock her twice and she left the door UNI
| tried lest she should brand her own intelli-
1
| that she was the prisoner of the house, far
| from any human aid, alone with her own
| courage for her friend. She admitted it
and sank down upon the sofa, to stretch
| her hands to the warming blaze, and to
breathe that simple prayer to God for aid
| which is the supreme pathos of woman
hood.
| The night was silent without the silence
| of midwinter the fire blazed though in
| enmity to the cold of the early morning
| hours. Evelyn had no watch, nor did she
| know what hour 1t might be. When dis
| tant bell chimed, che caught a faint sound
| upon the still air. but It told her nothing.
| And with the passing hours there came
upon her desperation she could not mas
| ter: desire to kill this man who had 80
affronted her, to brave him at whatever
/ cost, even IL it were to die at his feet. Eta
| Romney lived again In this, the Eta of
/ the east. the child of the mountains which
/ knew few laws but those of might She
4 was her mothers daughter now; the voice
| of heritage spoke, and she would not
/ still 1t.
/ The distant church clock chirned again
| and she counted three strokes upon It's
/ bells. 1t was o'clock in the morning then
and another four hours must pass before
dawn came Or would II ever come In that
| shattered and curtained room which she
| must call her prison? Sometimes she could
| have wished that the count would throw
down the challenge to her and that she
might answer him there and then. Sus-
/ pense as ever tortured her nerves; but In
/ her case also contributed to the victory
4 of reason. For Gavin's sake the evil In her
heart must die, she said. She must act not
/ only as a brave woman. but as wise one.
/ Moreover, her true SELF beginning to speak,
reminded her that there would be an out
cry through all London tomorrow. and that
| such a man as Count Odin would never
| face the publicity of 1t: his one sure wea-
| pom was his threat against her lover At
| this she coVed and knew that her heart
| had grown cold again.
Could she. indeed save Gavin by worde
| Had she believed 1t she would have spoken
| that word so greatly did she love But she
| did not believe 1t. Her faith in a brave
mans resolution, in his daring and success,
/ remained mistaken. Gavin might even
come to this house, she thought: and
dreamingly she sat very stili by tile nreside