River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1899-07-27
The Only Way

TT was past midnight, and Edward
Hurcombe, the famous actor-man-
ager, sat brooding over the fire. The
study lamp was turned low, for he
found dun light invariably assisted
his meditations, and he was particu-
larry anxious to arrive at some definite
decision upon a perpleXing question
that faced him that evening. The sud
den illness of both an indispensable
member of his company and the under
study had left him in serious dilemma,
for who could replace the absent play
er? 1t was part that required special
and peculiar abilities, and he had al
ready mentally licked off the names of
a dozen or so men as being quite uR-
adapted for the vacant role, when he
heard the sound of some one rushing
up the stairs He started and rose to
his feet, for his family had long since
retired to rest,
Quick! Hide me; they're coming!"
A man had swung open the door, closed
it after him, and burst into the room
painting and out of breath, his hair dis
heveled, and a bright CLEAN in his
eyes.
whats the NATTER" queried Hur-
combe, hurriedly. "How did you get
here?''
The visitor hesitated, and looked at
him queerly.
"Thc door was open, they were after
me, and / ran in They say I'm mad,
OF Y,,ah'
Not mad yet-yet." And he burst into
a scream of laughter which would have
been heard all over the house had not
the room been sound proof. Hurcombe
had had it made so purposely, as he now
remembered to his CONSERVATION.
ANY fool could tell that" replied
the actor, coolly, with the air of one
receiving an expected visitor. But
there's no occasion to hide. You're as
safe here as-anyyvhere.
Again the man looked at him queerly,
detecting with the sharp wits of lun-
acy the double entendre in his words.
Sir, | believe you; but you don't
know what I've been through. Mad!
They would wish me mad! They've
yearned for it, prayed for it, but I'm not
mad. Tell me, I'm not mad"
He had drawn closer to Hurcombe,
who took advantage of the change of
position to edge nearer the electric
bell, which, if he could but reach, would
arouse the household.
MY dear sir, I've already told you
you're laboring under delusion in
supposing anything's wrong with your
mental balance. Sit down a moment
and III get you some refreshment;
you're tired, doubtless And he went
TO open the door, but it was locked.
Hurcombe glanced back at the man.
His only reply was a cunning smile
which ovcrspread his countenance.
Il see you've taken the trouble to
fasten the door, said the manager.
s.rFItut's rs weIi-our conversation will
be more private" And inwardly trem-
bling, he lit a cigar and sat down.
you've something to tell me, of
course?' said Hurcombe presently.
He knew all madmen had stories to re-
late. and that it humored them to listen.
1t was also method of gaining time.
Yes. Do you know what II is to
to hate?"
The actor smiled. He did-on the
stage.
ITO love is TO hate" continued the
nocturnal intruder, who, following
Hurcombe's example. had now drawn
up chair to the fire opposite him. II
have both loved and hated A wear
ago | worshiped the most beautiful
woman l or any man ever set eyes upon.
I l.
settled down in the country to a joy
Gus existence, for | had enough to
keep us both in comfort in a modest
way. My wife adored me, and we were
as happy as the days were long till he
came upon the scene"
The mailman glared at his host as if
the object of his vengeance sat before
him in the flesh.
''Ie was handsome. fascinating, with
a look that killed women. He carried
everything before him, and broke
hearts as easily as you or | would
knock down ninepins; and nay wife fell
with the rest. One day had been to
village a few miles off, reaching home
just after dusk. Muriel did net run to
the gate as usual to meet me. and had
a dim, hazy perception that something
was wrong.
Il ran upstairs into every room, but
Muriel was not there. Our servant was
out. SO / could not question her; but
when | entered the diningroom | no.
ticcd a scrap of paper lying on the
table 1t took it up eagerly: it simply
bore the words: 'Good-by,' and was in
his handwriting. How | cursed him.
Had Muriel written the note, il
would have been different; but that he
should pen those words what mock
cry! Like one demtpted. l cursed
everything: l called on Heaven to
strike him dead. and the woman too
my wife!
sir. if l have ever been mad, l was
mad at that moment, The room CON
fined stifled me. | clinched my hands
and could have torn down the very
walls with my finger nails. had SUI
perhuman strength; if needs have
been, / would have lifted the world and
hurled it at my wife and her lover!
Rushing out of the house. / saddled
my mare and rodR off. It was London
that they had gone TO; the last train
had left couple of hours since. and
there was not another till the morn
ing. To wait was impossible. 1t was
more than 40 miles, but | should not
be long after them"
Edward Hurcombe. absorbed in the
mans narrative, listened intently. al
most forgetting the whole thing was
the invention of a mailman. How
graphically he described the scene.
"Why couldn't mnatics be actors >" he
Thought.
THAT ride | shall never forget" con-
tinued the other. ION l flew, urging
my horse furiously. 4 devil seemed be-
hind me. and cried: On! on to the be-
trayer. On. ! laughed as though the
notion was a splendid joke. ii ticllled
my fancy so. On! on, The hedges
swept past me. the dust rose behind me
in clouds. The villages ran by my side
like some moving panorama, and the
stars peeped out in the heavens. 1t was
Saturday night. and ! passed through
busy town. The main street was
crowded. but | flew by. 4 little child
rushed across the road, and my horse
trampled it under his hoofs. But
could not stop. On! on whispered