On the Verge. . .

Free Lance, Volume III, Issue 154, 13 June 1903, Page 17

On the Verge. . .

HE was tall, handsome and manly. She was the kind of woman ot whom, poets sing. And when they stood together in her parlour on that December evening the file that blazed before them ni the brass-barred grate burned not more hotly than the flame within their hearts. "Do you remember the first time we met — at Mrs. Willoughby's dance s " — he was saying. "Well, I have loved you from that night. When I found that fate was against us- — that was five years ago, you know — I went away. I thought the pain, that was always with me would be allayed by new scenes and unfamiliar faces, so I left America — " "You should have stayed here," she said, her face very w lute, and her eyes 6tall fixed on the burning coals. "It would have been better for both of us, I think, if you had been a little more patient, and — and a little braver 9 " 'Yes, I know " he interrupted, 'I have thought of that a thousand times, and have cursed myself for my hot headedness , but none of us can read the future, you know Helen. . . I feel now that if I had stayed here you w ould have been my wife instead of his. But let us not talk of what might have been — God knows that it is bad enough ' "When I first heard in Paris, from Arthur Bransbee, how you were suffeiing here it almost drove me mad. 1 cannot tell you how miserable I became. And at last I could stand it no longer. I took ship nearly two months ago, and and came here to see for myself if these foul reports were true." The woman glanced up at him quickly , witli a frightened look in her luminous blue eyes, and then as quickly turned her craze back to the fire He was silent for a moment, and then continued in a voice that broke occasionally from sneer depth of feeling "I found — God help you little one ' — that everything was just as the tongue of rumour had spoken it. I found you neglected — yes, deserted — and anothei woman occuDying the affections of the creature who had sworn to love and honour you and you only " "I found " he continued, in a higher key "that you had been spurned and cast off by thi« brute and tho«e peor>lp who did not nitv you laughed at you 1" "Oh. God '" she murmured, covering her face with her hands "that I should ever live to know it '" A great pity urged him to go to her side and take her in his anus and caress horr into hanpinr=s as one soothes a, fnwMenecl child. But he restrained himself, and stood waiting for her to sppit did fjmllv saving "Oh it is all no miserable' You do not know what I have suffered — the nee-

lect, the insults, the abasement of pncie. Iso one can ever know ' But tliere is no help foi it ' What has been done cannot be undone It is my poition I suppose They say eveivone has some cross to beai and this _s mme — only it is so heavy, Jack," — and she fell to weeping softly. He stepped over to her side, and grasped her arms with a firmness that bi ought her to look at him. No it shall not be your cioes," hie said almost fiercely "You die mme — mine, do you hear? You have been mine in the spirit for years, and now I shall have you in reality, Helen. You shall go with me away from this acouised place. Together we shall know the place we haive never known." She urged him from her w ith the utmost gentleness, her eyes looking into his pleadingly. "No, no, no 1" she cned with an emphasis that betokened her weakness. "Don't say that Jack — not that ' Pity me mv friend — don't make me soriv that I have seen you." He started to interrupt her, but sho raised her hand in a gesture that commanded silence, and went on. Do you realise what it means — this thing that you propose p Listen — you knew Mrs. Arbuthnot didn't you ? She man led about the time I did. Her wedding was a, glorious one, and all her friends thought she had done so well you remember. She was congratulated by everybody and for three years she hid her misery. Then, one day, she ran away with Tom Gordon. The newspapers were full of it. They published her picture and his and told all about her family, and all that sort of thing: "That was only a short time ago Jack, as things go is this world, and yesterday I met hen on the street, looking as if she had gone through tlie gates of hell I shall never forget the pitiful look in her eyes when she passed mci, and I pretended not to recognise her. Her hair was dyed a bright golden, and her cheeks were rouged but no one can hide the shame she must always cairy on her brow "All the way home I thought of her — of our schooldays together, and of how f=he must have suffered — for -on know Gordon deserted her after a oar in Pans, and she sank lower and lower until — well — she w as not a fit person foi respectable people to acknow ledge ever havinor known Yet she was only one of maw that I knoA\ and -sou know tooi Jack and all have ended in tho same horrible wav No dear, the world has its own laws — and they are not to be broken. You ask me to g-ivo U'i home, family honour everything 1 aaid bpcoinp an oxilp m a strange land And what do you give in return ° Not],-

ui'g • Your love you say ? Yes , but you get mine, too, in addition to all the lest, and a woman's love outweighs a man's, Jack. Do you know that in comparison with a wife who destroys her home, Samson did a small thing when he pulled out the pillais and let the temple down on the heads of the Philhstines p 'Oh, Jack'" she cried, suddenly. "I ha\e piaved to God time and again to let me die — I have been so miserable, so forlorn i I have pleaded that death might oome to me m any shape so that I might escape the horror of my life, but to no avail'" Her impassioned cry ended with a sob, and she wept as if her heart had long been burdened with its flood of bitter w aters. He stood for a moment watching her. Then he spoke and his voice was low and strong. "You talk of God," he said. "What is God but love? Who lias ever known heaven except those whose hearts were united in devotion ? God lives in voui heart, and in mine, darling. It is here in my arms , in the heart, that has loved you sincei it knew you — setting you above other women as a queen above her slaves." She moved away from him slowly. Let me say this to you, Helen," he pleaded. '"You do not know what I have thought of you in his arms — as his wife, and of the agony that has eaten into my very soul ' And now I have come back to you — I have come to claim you as my own — for you are my own' — you have always been mme ' You will go with me now won't yon, dear?" he urged brokenly. "We will leave this place and its torments. We will go somew here w here the world will not know us a,nd there we shall live only for each other, mv sweet one, my soul. What is the world, with its shams and its hypocrisies to us p We shall 1 leave it to its own misery, and I shall be all your? and you all mme — mine so long a.%. life lasts " His arms closed around her quivering foim and he bent his head to kiss her, w hen suddenly the stillness was broken by a faint ory that floated through the portieres from the> upper hall. It was the nla.intive fretful voice of a child 'No, no, no'" were the words that smote the mother's ears like a sword of liaht cleaving the darkness of chaos. ' I w ant mv mamma to teach me my prayers." She tore herself roughly from the man's fervid clasp the colour fled from her face leaving it ghastly white, and w ith one reproachful look into his aw esfcruck countenance', she threw the arms aside, and ran lightly up the stairway. The man waited a moment irresolutely and then he picked up his hat and stick and passed out into the windy night. As he opened the front door, he heard her in the hallw r ay above laughing and sobbing hysterically and calling her baby soft names.