The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser., 1910-10-28
THE MAN SHE LOVED |
By EFFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS.
CHAPTER XXI. 1

Continued
Il will tell him he must go far
away and must never come near me
again; if he does, I will ruin his
chance by telling the whole story.
But he will not push me so far; it is
money he wants and he shall have it
anything to shut out that horrible,
horrible past. How l loathe myself
when I remember my blind folly. It
was his face that tempted me. His
face! How white it looked tonight.
I thought he was dead; but it was
only for moment. He is alive and
] have seen the last of him. He said
It,"
The confusion of thoughts melted
slowly away. Dorothy lay back, with
her dark lashes lying placidly on her
fair cheeks, her lips parted, showing
the CLEAN of her white teeth, and
half smile lingering about her mouth,
fast asleep. A stranger, gazing at her
lovely still face, would have imagined
her mind to be that of an infant in
sweet simplicity, not that of a schem-
ing, false, deceiving woman, who
could lie as we'll as smile, and tread
down an honest mans heart with her
dainty, cruel feet.
Enid woke early the next morning
With that vague sensation of some
thing disagreeable hanging over her,
that came so frequently after an agi-
tated night. She did not try to WOO
another hours sleep, but got out of
bed ard began her toilet.
Her resolution to leave Bromley
was stronger in the morning than it
had been when she retired to rest,
and foreseeing much opposition from
Gervais, and probably some from Dor
othy, she determined to go away qui-
etly this very day.
There was no need to write and
warn Mrs. Lawson, for Enid had re-
ceived a letter from her humble
friend only two days ago, saying her
rooms were still unlet, though she
wanted for nothing, for Enid had sent
another check Immediately she got
her remittance from Sir Roberts
lawyers.
1t was characteristic of Enid that
she never treated those beneath her
with haughtiness or Indifference, and
in the case of Mrs. Lawson, and of
Simmonds, and Mrs. Cullam, to whom
she had paid a regular visit every
week, her usual kindness was almost
friendship. They had one and all
given her help when she needed it,
and she would never forget it while
life lasted.
This was a trait that disgusted
Dorothy; she looked on servants as so
many animals bought to work, and
obey her and, therefore, kind word
was positively wasted on such crea-
lures! It would have perhaps sur
prised Lady Derriman not a little
could she have known with what uni
versal unaninity she was hated by
the members of her household Ger
vais and his mother were beloved and
revered, but this cold, beautiful girl,
who might have found so much work
for her sympathy, had not a single
friend among the domestics, Virginie
excepted.
On the other hand, one and all
liked Enid. She was always ready to
listen to their troubles, and kept
perfect chemists shop in her room to
relieve the numerous little ailments
that afflicted the chamber-maids and
others, often binding up a cut finger
with her own hands.
Having plunged valiant1y into the
cold bath and dressed rapidly, Enid
opened her window and looked out.
1t was about o'clock and very red
sun was trying to force its way
through a thick, white mist. A sud-
den desire came on her to go out for
the last ramble she might have in
Bromley grounds for years, perhaps
forever. She quickly put on her hat
and warm coat, and as she made her
way down the stairs she resolved to
take out the collie, Meg, who was her
daily companion.
The great house was silent and
still, but she found her way to the
stables, where the grooms were busy
looking to their charge, for it would
be a glorious hunting day, and
whistling for Meg, after dispensing
many smiles and greetings to the
men, who respectfully touched their
caps, Enid set off.
Poor Meg, you will miss mel" she
said, bending to pat the smooth,
handsome head, "and l will miss you,
dear!" She sighed slightly. But l
must not even think of you, Meg, be-
cause if 1 do it will bring back Brom-
ley, and then-and then | shall think
of him, Meg; and that is just what /
must never do again. Heaven grant
he may always be happy! If fairies
only lived now, l would ask them to
work me spell to give him perpetual
sunshine; n .ver to let doubt or-or
the truth come to HIM" She smiled
h llf family, then said out loud: But
am wicked. lie is in Gods hands,
and what am 1 that l should dare to
doubt lis W sdom and goodness?"
Meg looted up at her voice and
tried to leap up and lick her hand,
and together the girl and the dog
walked quickly away till the hall was
lost behind them in the morning mist.
Enid, deep in her thoughts, scarce
aly needed the path she had taken.
and was some distance Oh the road
to the woods before she was aware Of
it. At first sht tho ct of turning
back, for she never coL.d rid her
mind of the disagreeabre remem-
brance that hung about this spcL. She
experienced over again all the shame
and misery that had come that sum-
mer day when she listened to Dor
othy's easy falsehoods, and saw that
&C ,ais believed her and deemed her
an algel.
Il will go round" she said to her
self, the way he-he took me when
! was riding; I can return through
the village and be in time for break
fast; it will be early to-day because
of the meet"
So, dismissing her disinclinatlon'