The Yale expositor., 1915-06-10

IIrn.r Zeppelin ra d S,
the Londoners
were at last aroused.
The mournful sound Of distant fife
and drum, then a hearse with a flag
draped coffin and three closed car
riages passed slowly by. These sad
little professions were becoming daily
more frequent.
She went into the bedroom. AS she
gazed moodily across the narrow
courtyard, a woman's form was sud
denly outlined against the drawn blind
! of a lighted window. Her every move
ment was clearly silhouetted.
Helen watched her, fascinated. With
clenched hands she was walking up
and down the room. Then she dropped
into chair, her face buried in it's
cushioned seat, her shoulders CULVER
ing with convulsive sobs. There were
abandonment and abject grief in every
line Of her slender figure.
Something that looked like a news
paper lay on the floor beside her.
Helen's thoughts leaped to that daily
column of killed and wounded.
At any other time she would not
have followed the impulse that now
came to her. But the war had broken
down many barriers. A common dan
ger and sorrow had brought people to-
gether; ordinary conventions were
brushed aside.
The next moment Helen was hurry
ing down the hall to the apartment
opposite. 1t was some time before her
timid ring was answered.
Who is it?" asked a tremulous
voice, the door opening a few inches.
Mrs. Curtis-from the apartment
next door," faltered Helen.
The door opened wider, the woman
still shielding herself behind it.
II know you're in trouble i'm
pulsively. Il saw you through the win
dow-the curtain was down, but l
could see your shadow. Don't think
ME intrusive, but | knew you were
alone-and l couldn't help coming"
The woman's only answer was to
turn back into the room and throw
herself sobbing on the couch. Helen
followed, constrained and awkward.
After all, what could she do-what
could any stranger do?
It's someone-in the war;" gently,
drawing a chair beside her.
The head on the pillow nodded
Helen took one of the hot, clenched
hands in both of hers. She could
think of nothing to say, nothing that
would not seem meaningless.
A small desk clock licked harshly.
There was a sound of Goals settling in
the crate. A faint creak Of the chair
as Helen stirred.
Then the woman sat up and looked
at her duly.
ooh, it's not what you think reck-
lessly. IT'S not my husband or my
brother-or anyone whom can grieve
over openly. That's why I'm alone.
don't dare have anyone with me-any-
one that might know"
Helen felt a tightening in her
throat; she did not attempt to speak.
"He was brought home yesterday
wounded-fatally, the papers said.
That's all know. / can't go to him.
l can't even telephone-they'd know
my voice" She looked unflinchingly
at Helen, "He's-another womans hus-
band"
Helen did not start or draw back;
her hold on the hot hand frightened.
This morning / drove by in cab.
The blinds were down, but there was
no-crape. I'm going again tonight
Oh, it's torture-not knowing"
Abruptly she rose and took from a
desk drawer ieather-cased photo
graph. It was strong, clean-cut face
of a virile Englishman.
There was nothing the whole world
couldn't have known" her burning
eyes were on the picture. And yet
now that he's dying I'm almost sorry
there wasn't" defiantly. "Can you un'
derstand that?"
Helen nodded.
"Oh, we're more natural, more prim
tive in times like these! That's why
| can tell you this. And yet" slow
-ly, IF he should get well-it would
be just the same. oh, we've made
such a waste of our lives-such a pitt
full waste! 1t was all my fault. but
I've paid for t." bitterly. I've paid
for one foolish, hysterical moment
with six years Of torture
six years" breathed Helen.
I'VE we're engaged she steadiec
her voice. "Oh, 1t was such a trivial
thing we quarreled overt And he
he took II seriously. He threw ur
everything and went to India. Last