Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-08-12
The Gates of Silence
By Meta StmmfnS, Author Of "Hnshed Up"

worm, seemed drearE downpour now
as Anthony harrington opened the side
door of the house and pointed to the sion
ing thatch of roof visible far down the
garden.
That is the studio" he said. IT YOU
wish to reach it you'll get wet. | am
afraid-if that matters"
1t did not matter in the least; the girl
felt she would rather walk miles in the
downpour, even across ground as sodden
ana rain -drenched as this garden that
stretched before her, where the water Law
heavily on the surface of the clay it had
beaten to a paste, rather than remain in
that grim room with its odor of stale
spirit and tobacco, its air of desola ton
Il want to go to the studio" she said
and forced herself to smile. striving to
act as though those last words of his had
never been spoken, as though he had not
put her own formless fears and suspicious
into shape.
Without word Darlington plunged
down the single step that separated the
three-foot wide bricked path which sur
rounded the house. He was hatIess. in
slippers down a heel Betty's eyes for
the moment were held by the sight of
that slouching unsteady figure going be-
i'lt HCl III Iile gray NOrtOIk SUIT that was
dirty rather than shabby
Tony She repeated his name in her
heart like a cry, Tony She had not
realized before how dear he was to her
all the kindness he had shown to her in
the past. Just for moment her thoughts
flashed back to that last interview with
her lover on, as they both thought, the
eve of his death, and how he had urged
her to trust herself and her affairs to
this man. To this awful wreck of a
man! Rimington in his prison of stone
walls, or this man in his prison of the
spirit-Who was the most to be pited-
Tor whom, in that moment, did her heart
bleed most? she asked herself
Almost as though something of her
thoughts had touched him, harrington
slackened his pace and waited for her
at the edge of path in the wilderness Of
neglected kitchen garden through which
they were passing The barn he had
converted into a studio doomed UP near
them now a long brown building with
matched roof on which gray and yellow
lichen spread. and tall tufts of antirrhi-
mum, bending under the weight of the
raindrops on their caps and bells
Il meant to have asked you-if | don't
ask YOU now l shall forget-have you any
news of RmilSton? How is his case
going? Is there anything fresh?'
There was something brutal in the
question, in the mans way of putting il.
that hurt Betty as though he had struck
her in the face. Yet as she looked at
the haggard face beside her, at the
twitching. peering eyes. she could not be
angry. She could only feel great sor-
row rushing over her
bV
nothing new. 1t is a question of patience
now-patience and hope"
And Faith.
And faith" harrington said with an
accent of indescribable bitterness. 81
suppose you believe in the man. YOU poor
little fool. In his goodness. in his mar
tYrs heroism. Don't. Be true to him
If you will, but eXalt him to no altar in
your heart. Whatever he was. he'll be
a poor enough wretch when he gets out
Be thankful if he is not worse"
Tony, ! hate to hear you speak So"
she said, and tears were choking her.
You're like all women-you hate to
hear the truth" Rmington retorted un-
locking the studio door with q kew from
his pocket The door opened into tiny
ante-room, screened from the rest of the
studio by a thick curtain harrington
drew her inside, locking the door behind
them, and stood for a moment wiping-
wringing would have been the better
word-the rain from his thick hair. then
he drew aside the curtain and Betty en-
tered.
The air struck warm and pleasant after
the damp of the garden a large stove
glowed ruby-red at one end of the long
room-that was her first impression; the
# "a ..l,s
upturned rugs that covered the floor. the
dust that lay thiclly on the polished sur
faces of the furniture,-for the room was
comfortably and even beautifully fur
nished. 1t was not for an instant that
her eyes took in the significance of the
CanVases about the walls: when she did
so she felt a shRer of repugnance run
over her. They were all studies of
woman's head-sketches of expressions
each terrible and grotesque and in every
case the model had been the sanchez
sister Edith.
Darlington hardly appeared to notice
her look or the effect of it upon her. He
had walked to the end of the studio, to
where. just below the little platform
where the stove glowed red. stood an easel
with a picture on it, over which had been
thrown a covering.
This is great work, Betty" he said.
Its not finished, but may heaven send
me light and strength till it is. 1t will
make my poor name live Though !
say ii mySelf-it is numbering good,
Betty, 1t amazeS me that | should have
had the power. after ten years of mere
prettness, to go to the naked soul of
things like this Look at it, Betty. Isn't
it worth even the moral degradation of
the excellent Mamma disapproba tion?"
He drew off the covering with a flour
ish, though Betty, her nerves strained to
the breaking point, saw how his hand
trembled. She could not have said why,
but as she stood there she realized that
this thing on which she was about to look
would be something strange and terrible,