The Washington times., 1920-06-13

upon my dead face. There were
other things, many other things.
you know" she laughed slightly,
the papers have been talking of his
books. l wrote those books, every one
of them. Mr.. Elwell signed them, and
received the royalties. The royalties
amounted to $4,000 that | know Of,
and there must have been good deal
more. / wrote every line of those
books myself. and he reaped the credit
and the glory. But" she shrugged
her shoulders. my treatment has al
ways been abominable. / am not ag-
gressive. did not protest. But [
brought the books to Schribner's
myself. and attended to the publica-
tions.
ut makes me laugh to think that
the papers have linked me up with
a woman writer, and said that ! used
her name. / gave that woman fve
lessons, and that is all | had to do.
wrote only for my husband. and a
very grateful task it was. too"
The reporter interrupted her at this
point to ask her theory of her hus-
bands death, whether II could be ac-
counted for by suicide.
II do not know my husbands move
ments before his death, but | can as
sure you it was not suicide. My hus-
band feared death. When some one
talked of death. he would leave the
room. One could not mention the
word. He paled at the thought of it.
For this reason he never made a will.
and whenever the subject was breach
ed, he would brush il aside with
nervous impatience.
so fearful was he that he hired a
squad of quacks who assured him he
could lye to be 125 years old. He
would eat two prunes for breakfast.
and then go to the bathroom where he
would practice all sorts of exercises
to follow the regime set down by the
quacks. He went in for sports for
that reason, too, and no one could
ever convince him that such a thing
as death existed for him..
mo. unless he changed radically
he did not die at his own hands. He
was too much afraid of death for
that, despite his brutality.
81 remember eight years ago when
we first separated. 1t was what /
may call an informal separation. I
am still his legal widow. He prom
ised to maintain my son, Richard, and
myself in the manner to which we
had been accustomed. But he failed
to keep his promise. My income
dwindled steadily until | was COM
PEELED to do my own housework.
II remember, too. four years ago.
when saw him for the last time.
did not expect him to love me, but
did think he would show some con-
sideration for our son. / loved my
son as only a mother can. and loved
him the more for all the suffering
endured / asked him: Haven't you
any love left for Richard? Aren't you
interested In his welfare? Don't you
want to see him and learn what he
is doing and thinking"
oh he replied. carelessly. I hear
that he is geeting along very Well
under your care, so why should
worry?
And when he lived with us his way
OF addressing Richard was invariably
Get the hell out OF here. Get out OF
nv way No, do not complain of
nv treatment. Suffering was heaped
upon me in all forms, but l did not
and do not want my son to suffer.
"The death of my husband is un-
pleasant. II stirs up all sorts of
things had hoped to forget. Re-
member, had not seen him in four
years and that everything he meant
to me was connected with abuse and
suffering"
'Rlchard no" Is AT RnuoNeI' ne
does not know OF his fathers death.
I just called the school on the wire.
But then you see he has the examina-
tions. do not wish him to know OF
the death until the examinations are
over. They mean a years work TO
him, and II he learned OF the death,
he might not be able to undertake
these exams would rather he miss
ed the funeral than years work.
Mrs Elweli rose, a smile upon her
lips.
There" she said, ~ have told you
everything 1 know, everything, and !
have told II to you frankly. l have
nothing to conceal"