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CHAPTER XXVI.
LOST FAITH.
"For your own sake, if not for mine, Robert, do
not begin drinking the first thing in the morning,"
Cherokee pleaded.
"I must, I must; my nerves are all shattered. I will stop when I have won the laurels of art," and he poured the fiery poison into the sugared glass.
"Does Marrion know breakfast is waiting?" he asked.
"I suppose not." Cherokee felt her voice trembling, she was almost certain he had gone; there was a dreariness about the place, an utter loneliness, that made her feel that she would not hear his voice that morning.
Robert touched the bell, and when the servant answered, he bade her:
"Tell Mr. Latham breakfast is ready."
"Mr. Latham went away in the night," the
