The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1895-08-02

She raped, the door open and closed
upon her, and she was alone with Dick.
The room swan about her for an in
stant Then she heard Dicks kind
voice, saying: Poor little Suzanne!
Poor little girl, how she has changedp
and then he had uttered an awful oath.
''By -, I'll kill the man that's made
you suffer like this''-he had said say.
agely, and that had brought back all
her strength. ''No, mol" she cried cit
isn't his fault, Dick. 1t isn't his fault.
He's never said an unkind word. He's
never been anything but good and patient
and generous. Why, Dick, see these
clothes, and these rings-diamonds
real diamonds, Dick-and he never
seemed to think it was anything to give
me such fine things. Oh, he's been good,
but-but you see it was all an awful
mistake I've only just found out, just
by accident. He loved another girl,
rich, fine lady, and her aunt broke it mp.
She made him think this girl was not
true some way, and that's what sent
him down to the shore looking so un-
happy. Only thought it was his way.
l didn't know, you see. 1t was what
made me love him at first, guess, that
sad look ne had, and then father died so
sudden, and he saw how felt, sup
pose, and married me just for pity.
But l wasn't the wife for him, Dick.
Oh, tried and tried, and couldn't be
like the other ladies. saw this and felt
bad for him before I knew about this
other, the one he loved,
"Her aunt came and tried to make
him offer mo money to let him be di-
vorced because the other girl is dying
for love of him now. And, oh, Dick, if
only you could have heard him stand
up for mel 1t was beautiful. He said
he didn't love me, to be sure, but he
had married me, and he should try to
make me happy, and that I'd die
sooner'n take money from anybody.
Wasn't that grand of him, Dick? He
didn't know / was hearing it all-he
never dreamed Of it, you see, and that
makes it all the grander. I'd "a staid on
with him, guess, even after hearing
him say he did not love me, if hadn't
seen him meet her. Oh, Dick, his face
was so beautiful-it was like heaven
come to earth when his eyes lit on her
all unexpected 1t showed what he
could be aside from what he is now if
he had her. That look, Dick! I'll never
forget it, never. 1t was beautiful, but
it was like beautiful shiny knife that
cut into my heart. 1t made me see spite
of his defending me how l stood in his
way. / couldn't never be happy to stay
with him after seeing that. heard him
tell the girls aunt that no man could
get a divorce in New York except on
statutory grounds. l did not know what
that meant, so l went and asked a law
yer. Dick, do you know what it means?
1t means a man must prove his wife is
bad, all bad-that she's gone agin her
husband and all her promises, Dick.
And that's what he must believe Of me,
and you must help me, Dick. No, don't t
look so scared at me. 1t amt that I
mean to be bad-yon know Suzanne
never could get to be like that, not even
if she didn't love her husband better'n n
her soul. But, Dick, he must think I'm
bad He must have proof of it, and then
it'll make it easy for him to get a di
vorce and marry the girl he loves. It's
the only way. 1 thought it all out, and
remembered what you said about being
willing to die for me. This is worse'n
dying Dick, know that. But you
must stand by me, or I'll have to end
1t all a worse way by taking my life. l
can't live, Dick, and be in his way.
He's too good to mo for that. l must
get out of his way and make it so he
amt sorry to have me go, fearing I'm
feeling bad He's so tender hearted,
Philip is. But you must take me away
and let them all think I've run off with
you. That'll make it easy for him, and
nothing else matters. You must take me
to Portland, and after | get little
rested like I'll find work to make liv-
ing. Here 's-here's my rings, Dick
They'll bring money to pay for the
travel and tho hotel bill till get work.
Oh, Dick, you must stand by me. You
must take me away-say you will,
Dick; say you will. You said you'd be
my friend. and it's now | need you.
And so Dick had stood there listening
to her wild, impassioned flow of words,
seeing how she suffered and how oblivi-
Jus eIiS was W ull bu6
she was imposing on him. 1t was all
Philip-Philip. Was the girl mad to
ask this sacrifice of him? To ask him to
be a martyr, to more than die for her
no; not for her, for Philip? His heart,
his arms, his lips hungered for her, had
hungered for her all these weary
months. And now he was alone with
her in hotel room, and she was plead
ing with him to take her away from the
man who had robbed him of her scarce
ly year before; to take her away and
bear the disgrace of an elopement with
another man IS wife in the eyes of all the
world, and yet be to her less than a
brother or friend. Great God, was the
woman mad or a fiend? He could not,
he would not Yet as she ceased speak
ing and fell on her knees before him,
tears streaming down her face as she
held up the glittering rings-Philip'
gift, which she had drawn from her fin
gers-he covered his face with his coarse
hands, and few big salt drops splashed
down upon the girls golden hair.
"Keep the rings, Suzanne, he said
in broken voice. "I'll take care of you
till you get work. Come now, let's be
off.