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

longing, gripped HIM. She drew hastily
back that this new impulse might not befog
in his brain the greater issue. She brought
Handel's photograph
"Now, Owen, think
Gradually a light came into his pallid
face He seemed to be struggling to catch
some thread ends lust beyond the reach of
memory.
at was in Sorrento wineshop on-oh,
| forget the name Of the street, he spoke
slowly, weighing each word. do YOU know,
it is i funny thing, but never could remem-
Der how ! got to Sorrento. ! have a hazy
recollection of being drunk here in New
York, and OF waking up at sea, on an ocean
liner | was dead broke in Sorrento for a
month. | ran into some fellows ! had met
on the ship. don't remember their names.
We drank. Heavens, how we drank. |
hadn't felt the bite of alcohol in my throat
for weeks | suppose ! got drunk; beastly
drunk, perhaps No doubt was mouthing.
| generally do when I'm that way. Prob
ably was mouthing the lines OF my play,
dragging all my finer feelings through the
filth and slime Of debauch That's mans
way. Yes, Helen, by Heaven you're right,
| remember. That man Handel was at the
next table. l would know those white,
pasty fingers, that oily black hair, those
monev-crazed eyes, in hell. The other fel-
lows left me. | was too drunk to follow.
That man Handel and the waiter put me to
bed
"And you had the manuscript with YOU"
she cried joyfully.
at has never been out Of my possession
since YOU returned it.
Then it is all clear. You NAV rest as
sured that Handel did not leave your bed
side until he had copied every word Of it.
THERE was a ring of sincerity in her voice
that carried conviction. "Helen, | al
most begin to believe YOU, he said slowly.
She held out her hands to him humbly,
proud and imperious woman in the unac-
customed role of suppliant. There was
soft light in her eyes that might have told
him great truth had his own overweight
nerves permitted him to read it.
"You must believed" she said pleadingly.
al have been heartless, Owen, ! have been
selfish, have been cruel; but never have |
been vile. This great wrong that has been
done you must be righted. The whole
world shall know that the play IS yours.
Handel shall publish from the stage his own
despicable villainv! You must be vindi-
catedl'
But how" he asked incredulouslv. "A
man low enough to commit such !; theft is
DOIu ellouSll W ueIlN anu SlISNt S!iouSll "
have proofs.
aYou have the manuscript she smiled,
"and Handel will scarcely dare to defy me.
"You would imperil your own share in his
success for me- Why? Abstract justice
never was compelling motive with you,
Helen
"Owen, can't you understand Again
the arms went out pleadingly
But the man was blind. y blush crept
into her cheek.
a was your ideal woman. ! did suffer. l
was Hilda.'
He stared at her dumbly, blankly, wholly
unable to grasp her thought.
"Then you did he stammered.
She could only whisper her answer,
faint yes.
He held out his arms. Then suddenly, as
if recalling the gull that lay between this
regal woman and the battered derelict of
the street, he dropped upon one knee and
seized her hand, pressed it reverently to his
lips.
THAT was like you, Owen, she said.
"The play, Handel, nothing, matters
now he whispered.
A LOUD and authoritative knock shook
the door and snapped the tension Of
highly strung emotion. The shadow rose to
his feet and stood with folded arms. The
woman went TREMENDOUSLY to the door to
learn the cause.
4 III. I -