Arizona republican. [volume] (Phoenix, Ariz.) 1890-1930, 1901-07-27
A PAGE FROM THE PAST
When lovely woman stoops to folly,

4
When lovely woman stoops to folly.
And finds, too late, that men betray,
What art can sooth her melancholy,
What spell can chapmrhe grief away?
The lines are ringing in my ears to-
night as they often-so very Often--do,
and the refrain causes me to turn and
reread a page OF my life that belongs
to an old volume. The saddest Of all,
yet so maddening sweet that / needs
must remember 1t and grieve until the
day comes that srumbes all memories
into dust.
Ten years ago. 1t seems a long time
yet its weary days in passing have
not taught me to forget and tonight
the howl of the storm bears 1t AL back
to me as though it were yesterday.
/, Hector Mallet, artist. hal been
quietly frustrating in the little village
of L that summer, sketching the
be autiful woodland scenes and enjoy
ing the life that flowed as peacefully
as the little stream near my studio.
An old frame building once used as a
boat house had been fitted up for me,
and this l had filleG with treasures
enough from my city home to make it
luxurious den.
My meals were obtained at farm
house not for away, and here ! met
some quaint novel characters. Queer,
homely rustics, with rough exteriors,
but hearts honest and true. Mothers
whose ives had been patient sacrifices.
Daughters and sons whose hearts were
set on the PARKWAY world that lay be-
yond the encircling hills. Their am
bition pining for release when content
should have been with them ever.
And here on the quaint, old-fashioned
porch / met the woman who now rises
up in judgment against me. What
would / not give to describe her--as
she was-the embodiment of all that Is
beautlfui in womanhoodl Tall and
queenly she was. Gentle and patient,
quick to respond to a kindness, a pure
soul unawakened.
/ need not dwell on the details of our
acquaintanceship. 1t is an old story,
eft repeated; we were together often,
and / exercised over her a fascination,
and, needless OF consequences, drifted
on. Long hours we spent in gathering
wild flowers. Moonlight nights We
floated in my boat on the Lakeland
Fate followed.
One evening we were standing to-
gether on a little knoll looking at one
of the grandest sunsets / have ever
witnessed. The sky was aglow with
orange and purple, and as the red disc
sank lower behind the PARKWAY hills
lalr n hi
tints. When the colors had faded We
remained silent, speliDound, until the
moon only served to give us light.
Was 1t not beautiful?" she said at
length. do you know, Hector
should like such a sunset to close my
last day on earth. Perhaps this is
my last"
Her tone was So sad, 1t inspired me
with such strange dread, that
caught her hand and crushed 1t in
mine, saying almost fiercely, you are
too young to think of death-life must
bring you many more such sunsets ere
the final twilight comes"
Yes, l am young, but life Is long.
Too long, with this pain here" ana
she withdraw her hand from mine and
pressed 1t hard against her heart.
You are in lover" l whispered.
NO." she said, steadily, her eyes
looking into mine and her lips twitch-
ing, st is not love--at least not true
love"
An inspiration-the devils own mes
senger-came to me, and asked quick
ly, with my lips close to hers: For
whom Helen? For .ne?''
With a cry ike that of wounded
animal she sank at my feet and sobbed,
Yes, yes; but pity met"
For brief instance saw the mental
picture of a dainty, sweet face with
wistful, waiting eyes. heard the
noise of the city. 1t was gone and only
the evil spirit remained.
Are you listening?" / said, bending
down. YES" almost an inaudible re-
ply You will come tonight"
She sprang to her feet and struck me
fun in the face. ! staggered back as
she bounded away. and pressed my
hand to my singing cheek. A few
steps away she stopped, and through
the darkness l heard the words,
dire amily spoken, Yes: tonight"
A few drops Of rain fell as / was
closing my shutters. and the wind was
blowing strong from the east. / lit
the lamp, put on my slippers and tried
to read. The book was insipid. My
pipe went out; nothing remained but to
wait. The storm was on now-the
flashes of lightning shone through
crevice in the shutter, and the thunder
roied and rnuttererd overhead. In the
hull a distant clock struck eleven.
counted the mournful strokes ana
jumped to my feet with nervous cry
as the door suddenly opened. 1t was
Helen.
The clock was striking three when
she departed. Farewell" she said
softly, and there were tears in her eyes.