The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-06-13

confined in mad house and she was the wife Of
another man. Poor John Seyton And poor
Kate too-alone there with her baby, while her
husband stood on some unknown battlefield
thousands of miles away.
The baby slumbered peacefully; the candle
burned with a steady fame; Kate turned again
to her book. But presently she raised her head
with start She had heard--or imagined that
she had heard-a Slight Enaccountable sound,
as Of a door slowly opened. It must have been
imagination; no one was in the chalet but her
self Nevertheless after listening for moment,
she blew out the candle. She could light 1T
again if she wished, but if there should be any
thing, it was better that she should be In the
darkness. The noise was not repeated; but,
after her eyes had become accustomed to the
gloom, she preferred to remain as she was, look
Ing out into the moonlight. She did not care to
read, and her mind was full of memories. And
the dearest memory of all was of the evening
when she and her lover sat together in that
dlvan. and talked of love.
| And what lover he was! There had been
nothing conventional nor circumspect, nor half
hearted in his avowal of passion. 1t had famed
out of him suddenly and irresistibly, and before
she knew it or meant it she had kindled with the
glorious contagion. Looking back upon that
hour las she had often donel, she had been as
founded at herself, not because she had acted
against her nature, but because, for once, she
lad given her nature its freedom. In that one
hour she had withdrawn the veil from her heart
and her very soul had uttered itself Such was
the miracle that John Seyton had wrought upon
her And yet it was not him she loved; she had
never loved at all; he had only enabled her to
| snatch one burning glimpse of her own depths
1t had been revelation of possibilities--no
more than that; but that had sufficed to
| make her recognize forever the frigid and stark
| realities amidst which her life must
her, had he been the goal instead
of merely the guide of that strange pilgrimage
| of the spirit-then, though he beggar
Caliban, she would have chung to him triumph
antly in the face of the world. But-alas! for
! him and for her-he had but stirred that which
he could not control. And when, after that
glorious hour was past, the tides of her life had
| ebbed back to their proper level, and she had
| realized what the experience meant, she had
confronted her destiny with sad determination
| Let her marry whom she would-her cousin or
| anyone else-it cid not matter; only one man
| she would never marry, and that was John
| Seyton. So much justice, at least, she would
| do her nobler self. The world might wag its
head and smile in its sleeve; she would preserve
| that one place in her soul unpolluted. come
what may Such was Hates hidden history,
| which never could be impaired to any human
soul. Her only happiness was tragedy
So profound her revery that the phan-
toms of her mind seemed to be realities. AS she
| gazed fixedly towards the further room she fan
cied that she beheld there face-a face well
remembered though with a CHASTITY change in
| it In the quiet moonlight it wore a deadly pal
| lor; the eyes were hollow and glittering and the
| shaggy hair fel! down upon the shoulders. The
| figure was meager and dark; it stole noiselessly
| forward, and couched down In the deep en-
| brasure of the ;oindow. Was it John Seyton, or
his ghost! He stretched out his thin hands as if
| to grasp something more unsubstantial than
himself, and then long, tremulous sigh fell
| upon Rates entranced ear.
| In an instant she was aroused with every
| nerve alert and ringling. This was no vision-it
was the man himself! Had she been alone size
might have felt fear but the thought of her
| baby gave her courage. She rose to her feet,
| silent as a shadow, and threw the lace curtain Of
| the bed across the sleeping infant so to con-
ceal it, Then, with few steps, stealthy as
| panther's, she began to approach the door be
| tween the two rooms There was a key in 1t,
though it was on the other side; but if she
| could reach it before he looked round she might
yet be safe. 1t was true that she was
locked in by her uncles fatal precaution; but
| she could call from the window and help
| would probably reach her before the mailman
| could tear down the door. The space she had
| to cross was narrow, yet it seemed to her that
many minutes were consumed in traversng 1t.
All the while she kept her eyes fixed upon that
| crouching figure as she might have watched
| sword about to fall her neck. How she
| prayed that no board might crack, no rustic of
! her garments betray her presence! And all the
while the crickets chrped drowsily on the lawn.
| the trees stood black againstvthe sky and the
| madman sat huddled on the divan, with the
moonlight glittering in his eyes. 1t was strange
that the beating of her heart did not arouse him.
She stood in the doorway at length, and
| stretched forth her hand toward the lock. AT
that moment the baby stirred in its sleep and
sent forth plaintive cry. Immediately the dark
figure leaped to its feet and faced her.
Then Kate did courageous deed. Instead of
attempting to possess herself of the key and
fasten the door from her sde-thereby risking
being overpowered before she could accomplish
her purpose-she sprang forward into the room,
closing the door behind her. There she stood,
confronting her lover and looking into his wild
eyes.
A strange lover was he! John Seyton had
been characterized chiefly by the simple ardor of
the human nature that was Ill him. but there
| was scarce a trace of human nature in this hag
gard creature The chances that he sent through
his tangled hair into Hates face were more like
those of a frenzied animal than man. And yet
this was he who at their last meeting in that
very room, had fallen at her feet, and shaken
her very soul with the ardor of his idolatry and
those bloodless lips had been pressed against her
own. 1t was grisly transformation, and she
| herself was the enchantress who had wrought it.
He would have obeyed her lightest breath two
years ago. but what would the utmost exercise
of her will and strength avail with him now?
Had Kate not been conscious of some redeem
ing quality in her past conduct, she must surely
have succumbed in the horror and misery of
that moment. But she felt that her fault--if it
were hers at all and not that of the age and cir
| cumstances into which she was born-had been
committed long before she and John Seyton met
There fate had been but consequence of an
| evil long in operation. Therefore-and also be-
cause the life of her child might depend upon
her acton-she kept her heart and her eyes firm,
and resolved to prove whether she could not still
control this mindless being, who had lost him
self for her love. She stepped forward quietly
and laid her hand upon his arm and spoke to
him with all the tenderness and gentleness that
she could summon out of her soul.
He started at her touch, but her voice arrest
ed him again and seemed to soothe him. Follow
ing her impulse flor other guide she had none in
that crisis she led him to the window and made
him sit beside her on the divan 1t appeared to
her as if she were rehearsing in a fearful dream
and with kind of CHASTITY mockery the events
of that fatal hour in which the tragedy of their
lives began. He had wooed her then, and now
it was her turn to He had wooed her to
love; she must WOO him from who could tell
what nameless insane violence. He had won his
suit-for hour at least she would win hers