The Washington times., 1909-04-22
CHAPTER X (Concl'd).

wretched and heartsick to care where
I went 1 walked aimlessly for sew
eral blocks. Turning a corner I came
upon a great crowd around an elevat-
ed station. The stairs and platform
above were black with people. The
whole atmosphere Of the street was
tense with excitement. what has
happened?" a voice near me asked. "A
woman threw herself before the ele-
vated," some one answered. They
are trying to get her body from under
the train
I turned and ran from the scene.
The crushed body OF a woman under
those carsi What had she suffered to
goard her to that? Why had she
chosen so CHASTITY a way2 Was IT the
cruelty of some man she loved? Oh.
Godi the suffering OF wOmenl If you
are aIl-powerful. why do you let crea-
lures you create be crazed by the
anguish OF loving-an instinct you
plant within them, and they are pow
erless 90 combat?
December 6th.
MY telephone has just rung, the first
AVA time in all these days. 1 was sit
ting by the window, gazing miserably
down at the street below, when sudden
ly it rang out, startlingly shrin and
clear. I stumbled toward 1t. my heart
leaping I'm my throat Was it Horace?
Had he found me?
"Helior' I called tremblingly.
For a moment there was no answer.
Hello What is it? HenoT' I cried
again excitedly.
And then in an operators strident
=, L.
turned OF for couple Of hours; they
are fixing the boilers
I threw up the receiver and burst
into tears, bitter, hystericaI tears. 1t
seems as though fate, not content with
my suffering, is playing grimly, fiend-
ishly with my emotions.
December 7th.
a GAIN have been to the pOstofice.
and again there was nothing"
Perhaps II was my white face and the
thought Of my daily calls that aroused
the mans pity, for he said 1t almost
reluctantly: Nothing this morning"
Oh, Horace-Horace-don you care
what has become Of me? How do you
know that 1 have not thrown myself
into the river or before some rushing
train? How do you know 1 was not
the woman who was yesterday crushed
under the elevated2 The papers this
morning say: ''An unknown woman OF
middle age, with clothes or good quail
ity, but nothing by which TO Identify
her" That might be I. How do you
know 1t was not? Don't you care?
December Sth.
I HAVE heard his voice-his voice!
Again and again during the long
hours Of these days have stood by the
telephone In this room, not daring tC
touch the receiver. but whispering
"Horace-Horacet' into the closed in
strument, knowing that on his desk by
his arm was a wire connecting this with
him, and hoping in some vague way that
he might feel some OF the love and
longing 1 was pouring into it, Again
and again as I walk ceaseIessiy up and
down this room, 1 have stopped TO
touch the cold instrument with my lips
and cheek lovingly, beseechingly. as
though TO bribe it to give me some mes
sage from him. But it never has; it
hangs there cold and silent.
Today I touched the receiver, then
my hand closed around it. I took it
down. I did not know what 1 was going
to do-aIl these days had been fghting
against what I now did IN a sweeping,
uncontrolled moment ''2S49 Cortlandtr'
] whispered. With one hand 1 held the
receiver. with the other 1 supported
myself against the wall or 7 would have
fallen. 1t was 4-oclock; would he stin
be at his office?
Almost instantly came his secretary's
voice: "HellO.'
'Is-Mr. Kennedy-there? I did not
need to disguise my voice. so hoarse /
and strained il was; no one would ever
have known it for mine.
who wishes to speak to him?"
did not answer
WHO is this. please2"
And then, as 1 still remained silent:
What name shall give2-impatiently
Il must speak tO-Mr. Kennedy-my-
self" 1 answered, hardly above a wins
per.
Then quite distinctly / heard her say:
''Mr Kennedy, some one on the wire
wishes to speak to you. they viii not
give their 1ame."
Another mOmcnt and 1 heard his voice
rich and full-the voice Of my hus-
band,
Hello Hellol Who is this?''
] covered my mouth with my hand 10
keep from crying aloud, but nv whole
nature strained out to him in lumb ap-
peal. Would he not feel who Il was?
Would not the tensity Of the silence |