The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser., 1910-11-04

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meath the continued strain; she found
it difficult to scheme or lie as she used
to do, and she was hopelessly at sea
as to what tale she could tell to ex-
cuse herself if a grain of the truth
ever came to her husbands ears.
us her brain touched?" thought
Dare to himself, on one OCCASION, when
one of her extraordinary fits of mood
| iness had followed on what had
seemed almost frivolous behavior.
| "Is it consciouce?" murmured
Enid. ooh! if 1 only knew what to
do-pray Heaven she may change
| before he notices it."
! But Gervais was aroused from his
| ignorance at last.
About four days after George Lax
on was carried to his last resting
| place, larger party than usual was
assembled at Bromley Manor for din
ner. Dorothy looked positively radi-
ant as she swept into the drawing
| room, that was glimpse of fairy
| land, with it's dozens of tall white
candles, and Enid could not repress
| a vague sensation of coming evil; she
| had learned to know what this mood
meant. Gervais, however, thought
his darling was only returned to her
dear self, and he went forward to
whisper word of love and proud de-
| light in her ear
Sir Gregory, too, was lost in ad-
miration, and as he led her in to
dinner paid her some very f1owery
| compliments. DR.. Waters was pres
ent, and followed with Dare Brough-
ton, Enid bringing up the rear on
Gervais' arm.
Some news for you," he whis-
pered: my mother is coming to us
for Christmas. 1 hope you will tell
me you are glad. Does not my darl-
ing look beautiful to-night?"
Enid was thankful he had spared
her an answer. in his lover-like eager
ness to speak Of his wife, for she
shrank from the very thought of Lady
Derriman coming until Dorothy
should be more herself.
The conversation started we'll, but
at last 1t drifted-how, no one could
tell-to the old subject Of the MUIR
der, and the failure of the police to
track the murderer; then the poor
child. Barbara, was mentioned. and
her future discussed.
Il think it will be well for the child
20 remain in the villago,
said, thoughtfully. "The money that
remains will keep her for some years.
and then she can be trained to do
something"
"Never!" observed DR.. Waters.
promptly; "the brain is affected. She
is an idiot"
Enid gave a panied exclamation,
and then she saw that all Dorothy's
color had gone, and that she was
pouring out some wine that stood be-
side her, and was drinking it off
eagerly and feverishly.
"Is that really the case, Waters?"
The doctor nodded his head.
"Yes, and Mrs. Baker says that the
father told her the child had some
bad fall when a baby. No, you can
not teach her to do anything. She
had better be put into the workhouse
when the money runs out-that is to
say, if she is alive, which 1 much
Doubt"
Gervais looked up hastily.
"Oh, no, she shall not go to a
workrause. l feel as If the child had
some claim on me, her father having
died on my domain. 1 will see that
she is we'll cared for. What do you
say, Dorothy?'
But Dorothy had planted her chin
In her white palm, and was lost to
all. She never needed Sir Gregory's
remarks, or even heard them; her
eyes were fixed in that dull, bitter
Wv before her; and she never moved
as her husband sent this request down
the table.
1T is neuralgia, She is ILL" muir
INJURED Enid in an agony of fear, see-
ing the expression on his face. She
will be better directly"
Gervais bit his lip. 1t panied him
to see his wife, Of whom he was so
proud, sitting like log of wood or
stone, at the head of his table, ignor-
ing his guests, and behaving so |
strangely.
Dare, guessing what Enid was suf- |
greatly, plunged gallantly into the
breach, and opened political argu-
ment that caught the doctor and Sir |
Gregory at once. Gervais eXerted |
himself to join in, too. but his eyes |
wandered to that curiously sullen |
face, out of which it seemed as If |
every line of beauty was gone.
HE hoo RI hoat porvouc horr{. |
BILE fashion, and he could not bring |
himself to touch any food. He tried |
to make e. 2uses for her, but they |
died away; it was her duty to appear |
interested, or at least to say what |
allied her, not to make such an exhi-
bition of herself as this.
The servants countenances as they |
fitted to and fro made him vince. As |
they retired. and dessert was placed
on the table, he determined to do
something.
dorothy" he said, with a slight |
tremble in his voice, Sir Gregory |
will take some of that old port-it is
before you"
She made no answer, and Enid
shivered and grew sick.
Il know she is ILL.," she whispered, |
agitatedly. and rising. she said out
loud: Sir Gregory, DR.. Waters and
Mr.. Broughton will excuse you. /
know, Dorothy, dear; do let me help
you upstairs"
She moved round like fairy, in
her pretty, graceful white gown, and
put her hand affectionately on Dor
othy's arm.
1t was shaken off almost savagely.
For heavens sake. leave me
alone!" exclaimed Dorothy, while an
expression of anger and hatred came
over her hard, white face.
Then pushing her chair back. she
half moved and half staggered from
the room.
Gervais had jumped to his feet,
and with a muttered apology strobe
after her. and Enid with large tears !