Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1914-05-17
SUNDAY MAGAZINE FOR MAY IL. 1914

FOR MAY IL. 1914
right still concealed in his breast When the
spasm passed he shook his head.
Il suppose, Owen, that you have come to
curse me?' said the woman with brave at
tempt at defiance.
mo, Helen" he replied, in a voice that
sounded like an echo, Il have come to kill
youl"
Somehow she did not feel afraid. 1t
seemed incongruous that this shadow should
be capable of violence; fully as incongruous
as that the Owen kendrick she had known
could be guilty of anything brutal gross,
revolving.
"Ten years ago" she replied, Il might
have believed that you would do it. A
woman's love, perhaps, may live through
ten years of forgetfulness; but a mans
hatred feeds upon something or it burns
out She had, by the way, said those very
words to Paul in the play
"My hatred of you, Helen, is not ten years
old, nor yet ten hours he said in the same
hollow tone.
a supposed it was the same old story
running your life and all that: killing your
ambition, blasting your career, sitting all
your finer instincts, driving you to drown
sorrow in drink to save yourself from sui
eide? You see l remember all the old hack
neyed speeches, all the old threats
you always did have good memory,
Helen. But doubtless you have heard them
many times since-from other lips
ooh, often; but they were men. They
threatened terrible things when they could
not have me; but they never did any of
them"
while was poet, and did
@At least, Owen, have always given you
credit for going to the devil like a gentleman,
out of compliment to me-" She felt her
gaiety returning with the oldtime banter.
The shadow deliberately unfolded his
arms, taking the right hand out of the breast
of his coat. The woman recoiled, and terror
shone in her eyes until she noted that it was
not weapon he held, but his soft hat,
tightly crushed in his waxlike fingers.
Il didn't come here tonight to talk to
you about all that, he said; 3nor does the
past supply any motive for my killing you.
The memory of that old sorrow has been
dead, and pretty effectually picked in alec.
hol, for great many years. You wanted
to climb, Helen. l was a milestone about
your neck-or you thought l was. You
cast me aside like worn slipper. 1 suffered,
God knows! But neither hated you nor
despised you, and now it is all past. 1t IS
only within this night that have come to
loathe you"
Il never was good at reading riddles,
Owen. You might at least tell me why you
hate me-
al hate you because, not satisfied with
robbing me of the only thing | ever counted
as worth while in lfe,-your companionship,
your love,-you have now robbed me of my
child
YOUR child, Owen! Are you mad?"
Mad? Yes, you poor innocent! AS
if you did not know! AS if you could be ig-
norant that every line you spoke tonight,
every thought you acted so superbly, was
mine-nlne-mine!"
why, what do you mean?"
ooh, you poor, cowardly, despicable wom-
an, to deny, to attempt to justify yourself
before me!' He laughed sardonically the
bitterness of gall in his laugh. Il really
thought, when l scaled your fire escape, and
had you here in my power that could kill
you; but | have changed my mind. 1t will
be far greater punishment to let you live,
to let you go on in your great success, The
Rungs of the Ladder knowing that every
line you speak, every time you tear Hida
Crossway's heart to shreds, it is your own
heart, that somewhere in the house, in some
cheap gallery seat, l am sitting, sneering,
gloating, over your agony"
He stopped in sheer exhaustion and went