The Washington times., 1909-04-17
The Journal Of a Neglected Wife

iie was too strong. I was faint and
uiN~y-I could go no farther now per-
maps tomorrow. Temorrovv T
would go away.
ihrough binding tears rroped for
.le banlsters and dragged myself nm
| 80, S'dirs' Half way up l stumbled and
made no effort to rise. A wave
U such weakness, such hopelessness
Such utter misery, swept over me that
wanted TO lie there-just to lie there.
| never 10 move again. After a while 7
was conscious of a dusty odor from
| the thick carpet beneath my cheek. and
round myself thinking DULY that Ellen
must sweep the stairs better, and then
l could have laughed aloud at the irony
| OF the thought
suddenly a door opened from above.
ana a flood Of light came out. I knew
IL was Horace, but L did not novel
old not seem TO care. Whether he saw
( me or not made no difference to me
/ then.
Mary! Nary He was beside me.
trying to raise me up. What has hap
peaed-why are you here2"
| did not answer. 1t was not resenC-
ment or bitterness that kept me silent;
It was only a great Indifference. 1
think my ability to suffer or feel anv-
thing more just then was deadened.
was curiously calm and quiet.
i thought you were IN bed. What
does this mean2" He had half carried
me into my room What is It, Mary
are you Hl?"
Are you ill2 That is what he always
says; never-are you unhappy. are you
lonely, heartsick, miserable; but always
are you III?
Mary. you must answer me-are you
nI?"
No; I am only drunk
What made me say that I shall never
know. 1 did not even know 1 was say
/ ing it until L heard the words. I sup
| pose 1t was a form of hysteria, and
1 yet at that moment l felt so curiously
| quiet I did not look up at Horace.
! do not know what horror or incredulity
| his face expressed, but his hands trem-
| bled as He held mine. With a strange
| irnpersonal interest l wondered what he
1 would say. II seemed a long while be-
| fore he spoke.
Mary. o. course 1 know what you
said is not true. don't know why you
said 1t, or what this all means. But
believe you are i'll, and you must let
me send for DR.. Martin"
i am not i'll, I answered very quiet
| ". and / shall not see DR.. Martin But
now, / should like to go to bed"
let my clothes drop from me and
| slipped into bed. Rest-sleep-the need
! was imperative, had no other thought
| That strange thing I said was in a
way true; there are so many things be-
| sides wine that can make one drunk
] Joy can, II it is great enough, and so
/ can misery.
again Horace came in and stood be-
| SIDE the bed Mary, I want you to
/ promise that If you are wakeful or
nervous during the night you will call
/ me / will leave the door open -
I Very well" I murmured.
Still he hesitated. L want YOU to
! promise, Mary I want to be sure that
1 II you need me you viii call"
L promise" I answered YEARLY And
| l remember nothing more. l must have
| fallen asleep while he stood there.
1t was very late when I awoke. Ellen
| brought up a breakfast-tray, which L
| sent back untouched She said Mr.
! Kennedy had left word thai l was not
/ to be awakened, and that he would call
/ up during the day TO know how I was
October 6th
| Horace has been at home every even
| ing this week. 4 few months ago this
| would have made me very happy, would
| have filled me with hope, with the be-
/ lief that he was coming oack to lne.
| that the cloud that had SO long darken-
| ed my life was TO be lifted. But I can
! not believe that now. 1 feel that it is
/ only temporary thing, that ne is stay
| ing with me now because that night he
! had a glimpse into the depths OF nv
/ despondelcy- But when the memory
1 Of that is less vivid, when he thinks I
am better and that he can safely leave
me 10 myself again, feel that It will
| be just as il was before.
The Continuation of This Story VIII
| Be Found I'm Tomorrow
Issue of This Paper.