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Updated: June 20, 2025
"But who was it? Not Jack Lorrimer or Harry Bent, surely?" "Then, you don't know?" he exclaimed. Something in his face made her heart stand still. Dora could not yet understand that a hideous blunder had been made, that her information came from a tainted source. Ormsby had told her father, in her hearing, of a vulgar scuffle, but her ears had not caught the name of the offender.
Her eyes lighted up and moistened with tenderness. She could not wait for him to join her; she started forward with outstretched hands. "You are not displeased?" she asked, with a blush. "I did so want to see you! Oh, to think that we must part so soon!" "I suppose you've heard all about last night?" asked Dick, hoarsely. "Yes. Mr. Ormsby called to see father for a moment.
It could not move the determination of this remorseless man. If she confessed the truth it was on her lips a dozen times to cry aloud her sin he would only transfer his animosity to her, because it would hurt Dick the more. Next to humiliating his rival, to humble the wife of the rector of St. Botolph's would be a triumph for Ormsby. She took refuge in a last frantic lie.
"You are sure, Dora, that you're not sorry you engaged yourself to a useless person like me?" "You shall not abuse yourself in that way!" "You are quite sure?" he repeated. "Quite sure, my hero." "And you never cared for that cad, Ormsby? not one little bit?" "No. Not one little bit." "It's a confounded nuisance, his being laid up in your house. But he won't go to the front. That's one comfort.
As I look back on those times I often wonder that we were not all killed. A short time before, Major Ormsby of Carson City, in command of seventy-five or eighty men, went to Pyramid Lake to give battle to the Pi-Utes, who had been killing emigrants and prospectors by the wholesale. Nearly all of the command were killed.
He saw what he had done; that the nicely calculated purpose had carried straight and true to its mark; and for a moment the mixed motives, which are at the bottom of most human sayings and doings, surged in him like the sea at the vexed tide-line of an iron-bound coast. But it was the better Brookes Ormsby that struggled up out of the elemental conflict. "Don't mistake me," he said.
If she holds on, there is an even chance for a spasmodic upward reaction before worse things happen." "Perhaps: you know more about the probabilities than I pretend to. But on the other hand, she may lose more if she holds on." Kent bit deep into his cigar. "We must see to it that she doesn't lose, Mr. Ormsby." The club-man laughed broadly.
Ormsby showed himself at his best during this period. He would have made no progress at all but for his tactful recognition of the fact that Dora had loved Dick Swinton, and must be treated tenderly on that account. She was grateful to him, for he seemed to be the only one who respected poor Dick's memory.
On the day of the great demonstration, when McGregor's power over the minds and the bodies of the men of labour sent hundreds of thousands marching and singing in the streets, there was one man who was untouched by the song of labour expressed in the threshing of feet. David Ormsby had in his quiet way thought things out.
"Is she your girl?" I asked Ormsby. He colored slightly. "I suppose so, and the baby will be mine if it's ever born. At any rate, I'm going to stick to her while she's in this fix. I'll tell you on the square, I'm not gone on her; but she had a lover, an Australian I knew, and he was good to her, but he got the consumption and couldn't work. Maybe he came here with it.
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