The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1920-07-02
CHAPTER VIII.
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FOR thirty days EllllhTu nHu IlSteneu
to the eulOgies Of his secret self. He
had heard from a hundred sources the
same belief repeated, that Dicky Nor
gan, given time and counsel, would
have made the city as proud Of him for
his intrinsic worth as Ii now was
proud Of him for his military valor.
This praise Of Dicky Morgan had at
first stunned Hilliard; after that, II
had exalted him; still later, 1t had
nbased his soul. He had longed.
ceaselessly, during that third period
Of his introspection, to take the city
to his heart, TO reveal himself, to an
swer for Dicky Morgan's failures and
TO pledge himself anew TO the achieve
ment which Dicky Morgan's friends
had propheSied; and then he had been
overwhelmed by the recollection that
he had made this course impossible.
If he had only known that oil his de-
ceptons were needless. II he had
only known that Dicky Morgan could
have come home, and been forgiven
What anguish he could have saved
and what repentance And the prob
lem was still the same-should he
continue. safe in his masquerade, TO
the goal he had set for himself, or
should he risk the, worst, and salye
his conscience by remuneration?
BY far the most distressing factor In
this puzzle was his relationship to Car
oil Durant. He had seen her only half
a dozen times during the month, and
never alone--the fates or Armstrong
had circumvented him--but he was
head over heels in love with her again,
and he sensed. from fugitive glances
and stray word or two on her part,
that she wasn't entirely averse to him.
But what would Carol think II she
knew that this grave and tender
stranger was hiding behind the wrath
Of Dicky MOrgan--lt was thousand
times the worse If she were ever
was impossible!
And then there was little Angela
Cullen
And in addition, there was the seri-
Gus business of making good; he was
TO longer impelled to 1t by resentment,
but rather by unadulterated ambition !;
this, too, he would see destroyed by
any admission of his deceit. To con-
tinue in the game was to lose his prob
,ity; to relinquish 1t was to lose all
else; and even now, his Joy and pride
was contained In precisely those things
oh a., s,iu IN dnri1a6
to tear Off the mask of hypocrisy; and
his self-respect was rising out OF the
mud of what he never should have
done at all.
When he thought Of his worldly am
billions, he was profoundly regretful
that he had talked professionally with
Mr.. Cullen. To be sure, the matter
had come up casually and naturally.
and the opening had seemed too good
to be missed; Mt the same time, Hill
Hard couldn't help rejecting that 1t
had been premature. 1t might prove,
eventually. to have been just the prop
er course to produce results; 1t might
be that Cullen would become so impa-
tient that he couldn't be restrained,
and would leap without looking, and
leap further than he intended, and yet,
ever since that preliminary interview,
Hilliard had known that he had made
a breach in his own fortresses; that
he had rendered II possible for an In
formal (end logical enough) investi-
cation to begin, or for mild suspicion
to arise and gain momentum before
he had devised the means Of combating
Il. And although billiard believed
implicitly in the goods he had to sell,
he knew the difficulty of the market ;
The knew how timorous Is the average
investor: and he knew that there
might very easily come time at which
his harangue would be remembered,
and remembered adversely.
In this connection he was irritat-
ed by the tone of Harmons letters to
him from New York. Harmon was en-
thusiastic. and confident; he was re-
lying sturdily on billiard to break
through the acumen Of the upstate
capitalists; but he thought that Hill
Hard was making haste too slowly; he
opined that all Hilliard needed to do
xss to devote himssf - . hard on