The Irish standard., 1912-11-23

conscious mood sat down in chair.
and there Georges wish found her,
futilely. Oh, there was one thing
clear, clear as the sky outside. All
was not right; something was wrong;
and this wrong upon one side con-
cerned her mother, her uncle and
Ryanne, and upon the other side, Mr..
Jones. Think and think as she might,
her endeavors gave her no single illu.
mination. Four blind walls surround
ed her. The United Romance and Ad-
venture company-there could not pos
sibly be such a thing in existence; 1t
was jest Of Ryannes to cover up
something far more serious.
She pressed her eyes with hand.
They ached DULY, the dull pain Of be.
wilderment. which these days recur.
red with frequency. A sense Of time
was lacking; for luncheon hour came
and passed without her being definite
ly aware Of 1t. This in itself was a
puzzle. A jaunt, such as she had ia
ken that morning. always keened the
edge Of her appetite; and yet, there
Wdo AO CIdVIUE5 whatever.
Where was her mother? II she
would only come now, the cumulative
doubts of all these months should be
put into speech. They had treated her
as one would treat child; 1t was
neither just nor reasonable. If not as
child. but as one they dared not
trust. then they were afraid Of her.
But why? She pressed her hands to-
gether, impotently. Ryanne, clever as
he was. had made slip or two which
he had sought to cover up with jest.
Why should he confess himself to be
a rogue unless his tongue had got the
better of his discretion? If he was a
rogue. why should her mother and her
uncle make use of him, if not for
roguery's sake? They were fools, fools!
If they had but seen and understood
her as she was, she would have gone
to the bitter end with them, Loyalty,
with sealed lips. But no; they had
chosen not to see; and in this had
morally betrayed her. All. it ranked,
and the injustice OF it grew from pain
to fury. At that moment, had she
known anything, she certainly would
have denounced them. OF what use
was loyalty. since none Of them
sought 1t in her?
The Major was wiser than he knew
when he spoke of the hundredth dam
ger, the danger unforeseen, the danger
against which they could make no
preparation. And he would have been
| first to sense the irony of 1t could he
have seen where this danger lay.
Why should they wish the pleasant
young man out Of the way? Why
should Ryanne wish to inveigle him
| into the hands of, this man Mahomed
Was 1T merely self-preservation, or
something deeper, more sinister?
Think! Why couldn't she think of
something? 1t was only little pleas
ure trip to Cairo, they had told her,
and when she had asked to go along,
they seemed willing enough. But they
had come to this hotel, when formerly
they had always put up at Shep-
heard's. And here again the question
why? Was it because Mr.. Jones was
staying here? She liked him, what lit
tie she had seen of him. He was out
of an altogether different world than
that to which she was accustomed. He
was neither insanely mad over cards
nor social idler. He was young
man with real interest in life, a
worker, notwithstanding that he was
reputed to be Independently rich. And
| onfh ho1
of him, never intending to pay it back.
The shame Of it! And why should she
approach him the very first day and
| recall the incident, If not with the ul-
terror purpose Of using him further?
AS ball strikes wall only to re.
bound to the thrower, SO it was with
all these questions. There was never
any answer.
Tired out, mentally and physically,
she laid her head upon the cool top
of the stand And in this position her
mother, who had returned to dress
for tea, found her. Believing Fortune
to be asleep, Mrs Chedsoye dropped
q hand upon her shoulder.
Fortune raised I1er head.
why, child, what is the mattcr?"
the mother asked. The face she saw
was not tear-stained; it was as cold
and passionless as that by which sculp-
tors represent their interpretations OF
Justice.
Natter" Fortune spoke, in a tone
that did not reassure the other "In
the first place l have only one zeal
question to ask. 1t depends upon how
you answer it. Am ] really your
daughter?"
Really my daughter?" Mrs. Ched.
soye stepped back, genuinely aston
ished. REALLY my daughter? The
child is mad!" as if addressing an i'm.
aginary third person. What makes
/! you ask such a silly question:" She
was in hurry to change her dress,
but the new attitude Of this child OF
hers warranted some patience.
| "That is no answer" said Fortune
with the unmoved elaboration Of a
prosecuting attorney.