Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-11-18
CHAPTER v.
Dorrison'S Blank Cartridge.

Dorrison's Blank Cartridge.
Gilbert Dorrison felt his defeat keenly.
Never in his life before had he had to
drain such cup OF humiliation, and the
| taste ranked and enraged him beyond
mea sure.
The disappointment was bad enough. He
had had the golden apple of Fortune in
his very hands. only to have it torn from
him with degradation and insult, and
without even faint hope of recovery.
But the disappointment was not by
| any means the worst. He had been so
| out-juggled that in his folly he had let
the mask of his hypocrisy he snatched
| away. Had the skin been torn from his
| flesh, the pain and smart could not have
| been worse. All through the night he
WINGED at the remembrance of Sadie's
| contemptuous glances and shrank under
| the lash of her bitter words.
| His own stupidity in not having made
inquiries about her wealth beforehand
was like a sword in the flesh. There were
a dozen ways in which he could have
| found out the truth, and he. groaned as he
| thought how, with that easily gained
knowledge. he could have answered her
avoWal of poverty with passionate decla-
rations of unselfish love for herself. and
have pressed her to marry him, wealthy
or a pauper.
Instead of that, he had let her see right
into his inner nature. There Is one wom-
an in London who knows you for the
paltry scoundrel you are!''
| The words bit like acid, for there is lit
! tie misery more acute than that of
hypocrite in the hours which follow his
| first detection.
Even Sadie would have been satisfied
with the punishment she had inflicted
upon him mad she known what night Of
agony he endured.
| The next day, however. he was able to
| take less depressing view of the posi-
| ton. The personal smart was dulled.
He had made fool of himself and had
! lost the best thing that Fortune had ever
put in his reach: but, after all. she could
do him no real injury. 1t was not likely
their paths would cross again; and even
if She remained in London she was not
| likely to meet those who knew him, nor,
ie she did, to tell them anything.
| All that he had done was to refuse to
marry her when she said she was poor,
and thousands of men would have done
the same. AS to his proposal that she
should personate his cousins wife, he had
mentioned no names: and. if any neceS-
sity arose. he could easily deny the whole
thing. or pretend that he was merely test
! ing her.
And in all other respects he stood just
where he did before the thing occurred.
He was in want of money, 1t was true:
but he could trust himself to get enough
out of his cousin to smooth matters over.
| He had for some years spent great
deal more than his income, and had lost
considerable sums in stock exchange spec
| ulations. AS the heir to the Broadstone
title and estates. he had never had any
difficulty in raising money up to the time
ran into a good many thousands. The
marriage had made a difference. of
course. The money lenders had closed
their cash boxes. and some of them, in
deed were pressing for repayment
! He looked into his affairs that morning.
and not without some uneaSinesS saw that
| he must have some five thousand pounds
to meet immediate needs. He would go
down again to Broadstone Towers that
day and get it from his cousin. A very
slight turn of the screw ought to be
enough to squeeze that sum out of him.
! although he was by no means willing to
part with money.
The Towers was a deadly dull house to
man of his disposition. and just at
present it was additionally gloomed by
the shadow of Mr.. Petherby's death two
months before. The rich mans anticipa
J ton had been fulfilled He had died as
he had lived-at work. He fell back in his
| chair one day in his Office at the big var
nish works. and in two minutes was a
! dead man. Nor was it easy to find a sim
gle individual. except Eva, who regretted
| him.
Eva had always shrunk from the task
of entertaining people, and now pleaded
| his death as reason for seeing no one:
and she passed most of her time alone, or
with Jack when he was at the Towers.
She saw very little Of her husband. He
was often absent from Broadstone: and,
| when there. spent most of his days shoot
| ing or riding, and passed the evenings i'll
his own rooms where he could tipple at
| his ease.
| She was glad to see Dorrison. Jack
liked him, and she took her cue from him.
Her life of subsection to her father had
| <,,1$ fn.t \, 10 form in
dependent opinions or to take any intia
tive herself. Her nature was one which
required some stronger will to rely upon
and cling to.
| to dinner and welcomed him sweet!y.
"A pleasant surprise, Mr.. Dorrison
am glad to see YOU
Didn't Bertram tell you was coming:
/ wired him.
II have not seen him today. But he
! never tells me anything. You see. 1t
wasn't necessary for me to know. l
| mean" she added. with faint and rather
and we don't count you as guest. Your
rooms are always ready
That's very pleasant of you. Eva. But
if had known. I would have wired you
as we'll as Bertram. You nave the knack
of always saying pleasant things. you
know
| "Have 70" she replied. quite simply.
| But really mean ] am glad to see you:
Jacks coming in day or two. and nell
be glad to see you, too.
How your face brightens when you
| speak Of him. Eva
Hes all I have in the world to-
mean. we have always loved each other
so much You see. in the old days at
Petherby I was dependent on him Tor
| heaps Of things.
II understand" he replied. meaningly.
Don't tell Bertram l said anything like
that. But l. She fa'tered and stop
ped. Then with another wistful smile'she
added: Il am afraid I am always saying
| things I ought not. except to Jack, of
course: but he understands"
Il hope I understand too, Eva. But |
| wish with all my heart you were happier.
| You deserve it; on my soul. YOU do
Eva tried to restrain sigh. and to
cover il with a smile. II don't know
| that unhappy. except that I have
| one little bother now. | am losing my
maid. and she has been such a companion
| that / shall miss her. One gets SO used
| to people about one. I know I'm very
selfish
II wish I could think that was your
only trouble. declared Dorrison earnestly.
and with steady look that somewhat
Disconnected her.
| Before she could reply. Lord Broadstone
| entered. He took no notice of Eva who
| shrank away to the window. ''Hullo.
| you here already. Gilbert?'' he said.
They told me you were out when J
arrived. Didn't they tell you was here?'
| Il only came in in time to scramble
| into my things. Dinners ready Come
i I