From time to time she checked out the little capital that represented years of self-denial, until it was all gone. In the meantime she learned that the “business ventures” were airy nothings, having no existence outside of empty words. What he had done in the past four years she never knew, as he had nothing to show for the time, not a foothold anywhere. They floated about until her money was gone, without definite aim and without effort on his part to change conditions. To her it seemed a steady journey to destruction. Their marriage had revived the story of his trial for murder, and other dark stories were added thereto and published in vile newspapers throughout the country. Some of these came to Cartice’s hands by accident, and some by the foul designs of wretches who find pleasure in giving pain. In these infamous columns she saw herself described as a bold and scheming adventuress, who had obtained an unholy influence over a hitherto blameless man, inciting him to murder and ruining him financially as well as morally. “I have heard newspapers called civilizers,” she said, “but such as these should be called heart-breakers.” That experience did break her heart, since we have no other name for the loss of all joy in living. It wrought a pitiful change in her. Her bright mobile face became set, rigid and unreadable. “Oh, but to hide from the eyes of men” is ever the cry of the proud spirit when suffering. When this cannot be done, it makes for itself a mask behind which its wounded pride and aching heart take shelter. The mask which Cartice Doring then put on was so impenetrable that it repelled any meddling with or probing into what lay beneath. It was her shield against that most merciless of all weapons, the human eye, and she wore it for many and many a day and could not cast it off. Every heart, however self-sufficient its outward bearing, craves sympathy, that precious and potent power which holds the universe together, yet so little faith have we in the compassion of our fellows that nothing in hours of anguish is so dreaded as their gaze. Cartice’s family discarded her. Being loveless by nature and worshippers of the Monster God, Self, they saw her position only in the light that affected them, by the unpleasant notoriety she had attained, and showed no consideration for the poor victim of malice.