The Raymer enterprise., 1914-01-01
CHAPTER xxxili.
Alone.

Oswald had heard nothing. seen
nothing. But he took note of Doris
silence. and turning towards her in
frenzy saw what had happened. and
so was in a measure prepared for the
stern, short sentence which now rang
through the room:
Wait, Miss Scott! you tell my
story badly. Let him listen to me.
From my mouth only shall he hear
the stern and seemingly unnatural
part l played in this family tragedy"
| The face OF Oswald hardened.
i Those plant features-beloved for
their gracious kindllness-set them
selves In lines which altered them al
most beyond recognition; but his
voice was not without some of its nat
ural sweetness, as, after long and
hollow look at the others composed
countenance. he abruptly exclaimed:
Speak! | am bound to listen: you
are my brother"
Orlando turned towards Doris. She
was slipping away.
Don't CO." said he.
But she was gone.
Slowly he turned back.
| Oswald raised his hand and checked
the words with which he would have
begun his story.
/ Never mind the beginnings" said
he. Doris has told all that. You
saw Miss Challoner In Lenox-ad-
mired her and afterwards wrote her a
threatening letter because she reject
ed you"
1T is true. Other men have fol-
lowed just such unworthy impulses
and been ashamed and sorry after
wards. was sorry and was
ashamed, and as soon as my first
anger was over went to tell her SO.
Bat she mistook my purpose and"
And what?"
Orlando hesitated. Even his iron
nature trembled before the misery he
saw-a misery he was destined to aug
ment rather than soothe. With pains
altogether out Of keeping with his
character. he sought In the recesses
Of his darkened mind for words less
bitter and less abrupt than those
which sprang inyoluntarily to his lips.
But he did not find them. Though he
pitied his brother and wished to show
that he did, nothing but the stern
language suitable to the stern fact he
wished to impart would leave his lips.
And ended the pitiful struggle OF
the moment with one quick, unpre-
meditated blow" was what he said.
There Is no other explanation pos.
sible for this act, Oswald. Bitter as
1t Is for me to acknowledge It, l am
thus far guilty of this beloved wom-
ans death. But as God hears me,
from the moment ! first saw her. to
the moment | saw her last. I did not
know, nor did ! for a momen. dread
that she was anything to you or to
any other man OF my stamp and sta
ton. thought she despised my coun-
try birth, my mechanical attempts, my
lack Of arlstocratic pretensions and
traditions"
Edith"
Now that know she had other
reasons for her contempt-that the
words she wrote were In rebuke to
the brother rather than to the man.
feel my guilt and deplore my anger.
cannot say more. should but in.
suit your grief by any lengthy express
sions of regret and sorrow"
A groan Of intolerable anguish
from the sick mans lips, and then the
quick thrust OF his reawakened intel
ligence rising superior to the over.
throw of all his hopes.
For a woman OF EdIth's principle
to seek death In moment OF despera-
tion, the provocation must have been
very great. Tell me II I'm to hate you
through life--yea through all eternity
or II must seek In some unimag.
Unable failure of my own character or
conduct the cause OF her intolerable
despair"
Oswald" The tone was controlling,
and yet that OF one strong man to
another. is 1t for us to read the
heart Of any woman. least OF all Of a
woman OF her susceptibilities and
keen inner life? The wish to end all
comes to some natures like light.
ming fash from clear sky. 1t comes.
It goes, often without leaving Z sign.
But II weapon chances to be near.
there 1t was In hand)-then death
follows the impulse which, given an
instant OF thought, would have van
ished in back sweep OF other emo
tions. Chance was the real accessory
to this death by suicide. Oswald, 10,
Us realize It as. such and accept our
sorrow as mutual burden and turn
to what remains to us Of life and
lnbor. Work is grief's only consolap
ton. Then let US work."
; But OF all this Oswald hsd caught