Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1914-03-28


aBut Martini said. would the
church accept that?"
What matter whether 1t would or
wouldn't2 Our consciences would be
clear There would be no sin, and
whatSyou were saying this morning
would not apply,"s
But if left my husband couldn't
marry you, could IL"
f'Perhaps not"
@Then the church would say that |
was sinful woman living a sinful
life, wouldn't it?"
But you wouldn't be-
"All the same the church would say
so. and If it did l should be cut out
of communion, and if were cut out
Of communion l should be cast out of
the church, and If were cast out Of
| the church what would become
of me them" ~
eBut, my dear GIRL said Martin,
don't you see that this is not the
same thing at all? 1t Is only a case
| Of a ceremony. And why should a
mere ceremofiy-even If we can not
do away with it--darken woman's
life forever"
My heart was yearning for love, but
my soul was crying out for saliva
ton; and not being able to answer
him for myself, l told him what
Father Dan had said l was to say.
Father Dan is a saint and / love
him." he said. But what can he
know-what can any priest know Of
a situation like this? The law of
man has tied you to this brute, but
the law of God has given you to me.
Why should a marriage service stand
| between us?'
"But it does / said. "And we
can't alter it. No, no, | dare not
break the law of the church. / am
a weak, wretched girl, but l can not
give up my religion"
After that Martin did not speak for
a moment. Then he said:
you mean that, Mary?"
Eyes"
And then my heart accused me so
| terribly of the crime of resisting him
that | took his hand and held his
| fingers in a tight lock while | told
hir--what / had never meant to tell
how long and how deeply I had
loved him, but nevertheless dared
not face the thought of living and
dying without the consolation of the
| church.
Il dare not! I dare mott" said.
Il should be a broken hearted woman
if did, and you don't want that, do
your"
He listened in silence, though the
| irregular lines in his face showed the
disordered state of his soul, and when
had finished a wild look came into
his eyes and he said:
| 81 am disappointed in you, Mary.
! ] thought you were brave and fear
less, and that when | showed you a
way out of your miserable entangle-
ment you would take it in spite Of
everything
Heart Clamored.
His voice was growing thick again.
Could scarcely bear to listen to it.
do you suppose wanted to take
| up the position proposed to you?
| Not /. No decent man ever does. But
/ love you so dearly that | was will
| ing to make that sacrifice and count
it as nothing If only ] could rescue
you from the misery Of your abofni-
nable marriage.
Then he broke into kind of fierce
laughter, and said:
1T seems wasn't wanted, though.
| You say in effect that my love is sim
full and criminal. and that 1t will inn
peril your soul. So I'm only making
| IDlSCItl6l IltICs anu llAC nlOOiiCA. L. 5Ct
away the better for everybody"
He threw off my hand, stepped to
the door to the balcony, and, looking
out into the darkness, said, between
| choking laughter and sobs:
ELAN, you are no place for me.
can't bear the sight of you any long
er. l used to think you we're the
| dearest spot on earth, because you
were the home Of her who would
| follow me to the ends Of the earth II
l wanted her, but | was wrong. She
loves me less than wretched cere-
/ mony, and would sacrifice my happi-
ness to a miserable bit of parchment.
My heart was clamoring loud, Never
| had ] loved him so much as now.
| had to struggle with myself not to
throw myself into his arms.
mo matterl" he said. II should be
a poor spirited fool to stay where I'm
not wanted. l must get back to my
work. The sooner the better, toe.
/ I thought I should be counting the
days down there until l could come
\ home again. But why should care
what happens to me? It's all as one
now"
He stepped back from the balcony
with resolute expression on his
gloomy face, and l thought for a
moment (half hoping and half fearing
IT'D that he was going to lay hold of
me and tell me l must do what he
wished because belonged to him.
But he only looked at me for a
moment in silence, and then burst
into flood of tears, and turned and
ran out Of the house.
Let who will say his tears were
unmanly To me they were the bitter
cry of a great heart, and WANTED to
follow him and say, Take me. Do
what you like with me. | am yours.
/ did not do so. sat long time
where he had left me and then
went into my room and locked the
door.
l did not cry. Unjust and cruel as
| his neproaches had Nbeen, began to
have a strange wild joy in them.
knew that he would not have insulted
me like that if he had not loved me
to the very verge OF madness itself.
Hers passed. Price came tapping
at my door to ask II she should lock
up the house-meaning the balcony.
l answered, mo, go to bed"
l heard the deadered thud of Mar
/ tins footsteps on the lawn passing
| to and fro. Sometimes they paused
under my window and then / had a
/ feeling, amounting to certainty, that
he was listening to hear II was
sobbing, and that II I had been he
would have broken down my bedroom
door to get to me.
At length | heard him come up the
| stone stairway shut and holt the