The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1904-10-26

CINCE he had obtained his degree
~ in science and an appointment,
Stephen Portway had determined to
leave his poor lodgings in Soho; but
he still delayed.
At first he was not frank, even to
himself. But at length he had to con-
less to the dark of sleepless night
that a woman held him-a woman
to whom he had never spoken except
with the commonplace greetings of the
day.
She was French; she called herself
Mile Lemoine; was, perhaps, "a years
OF age, and she lived alone in room
on the opposite side of the landing
before his door. She appeared to be
very poor, very proud and very soli-
tary.
Without thinking, Stephen had got
to wait for her going out in the morn
ing, so that he could greet her when
passing. In the evening, too, when he
heard the light footsteps coming up
the stairs, he would carelessly begin
descending, SO as to look into the
tired, quiet eyes and hear the soft
voice answer his salutation.
But at last he became aware that
his comings-in and goings-out were
but shadowings of her movements,
and in shame he put restraint upon
himself. But when, at the end of that
time, he found he had not seen her
face for week, he threw self-control
to the winds and watched to meet her.
Once there had seemed to be the
possibility of archness and coquetry,
but now it was pale and gaunt, and in
her eyes were fever and a great
trouble. He could not be deceived;
whatever was her mental anguish, he
knew there was meaner, grimmer
despair beneath it all-she lacked food
Once he would fiercely resolve to
go to her tomorrow and bluntly offer
her help and friendliness; next mo-
ment he would enrage against the sus-
picious conventions that were reared
about them.
Next day was Saturday. She did
not appear in the morning, and he
went listlessly to his work. Reaching
home quickly in the afternoon, he sat
In hisiroom, near the door, and listened
Tor her. Suddenly the quiet steps
sounded on the stairs below, and, seiz-
ing his hat, he strolled, whistling, out
of the room. She was coming up the
stairs with a basket on her arm, and,
at the sight Of the WEAKNESS in her
face and the frailty in her figure, he
felt impelled to speak to her tenderly.
He thought that for moment she
seemed shaken before his gaze, and
she hesitated in her reply to his greet
Ing; then she responded and passed on
with her usual distant bearing.
AS she went by he glanced at the
basket. A cloth was over something
within it, and, for the moment, he was
glad and then half sorry with the
thought that she was not in such dire
straits as he had imagined.
AS she placed her foot on the stair,
he saw the cloth was pulled aside at
one place and piece of charcoal jutted
up. He descended, feeling pleased to
think she was going to cook something
over her stove.
In another ten minutes he came
bounding into the house and up the
stairs. Halfway toward the museum
terrible suspicion had entered his
mind; perhaps she meant to destroy
herself
He listened, but no noise came from
The room. He tried to think of an ex-
Suse for knocking and speaking; then,
happening to cast his eye to the top of
the door, he caught sight of piece of
blanket damned between it and the
frame. Quickly he bent; no light came
through the keyhole, and at the bot
tom of the door flannel was thrust
He knocked with restrained force,
the blood beating thickly at his heart.
A slight movement came from within
TIE room, but no reply. He knocked
agaN and called 'Mademoiselie!"
Then the voice answered, In sleepy
tones, who is it?"
ut is l." he replied. what are you
hoing with the door blocked up?" .