Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1921-01-27

where there was neither light nor
darkness. wherein consciousness grew
faint and the sense of Self was blot.
ted out entirely .
v. BEYOND THE THRESHOLD.
Out of nothingness out of sort OF
inert chaos. spectral walls like wells
of mist took shape. closed I'm. added
unto themselves floor and ceiling,
assumed semblance of stability, be.
came a hoxlike room wherein her
spirit was pert in mood of sluggish
and melancholy mutiny. room hate.
fully familiar TO her In is every hide
Gus detail: its poisonous wall paper,
stained ceiling and threadbare lin.
oleum. its iron sink in the corner, its
rude chairs and common table clut
tered with soiled crockery and a gas
stove linked to an overhead Jet by
frayed tubing, its shelf from which
hung articles of detected clothing, its
shaky iron hedstead with Sagging
springs and the lumpy mattress upon
which her Self lay, half dressed and
half conscious. too bored to care
whether she walked or slept
WEAKNESS and disconsolation were
eloquent in her posture as she rested
on her side. hand between her head
and the emaciated pillow, and written
legibly in blush shadows under list
less eyes. in sallow cheeks whose nor
NAL hue was clearest pallor barely
warmed by glowing health, in the un-
studied disarray of her masses of fine
black hair. in the sullen cast OF her
firm-lipped mouth.
A mutter of far thunder swelled and
died.
The girl moved only her eyes, look
ing up to window that revealed the
storm-black sky.
What mattered il to her whether or
not it raned? She was condemned,
in this dismal place whose threshold
her foot had not crossed in so many
days she had lost count of them.
The room grew dark. the sky more
savage sword of lightning slashed
the gloom, and again distant thunder
doomed and grumbled into silence.
BY the pert tin clock whose stridu-
lation was the only voice her hiding
place had heard in days, the hour was
barely five.
She wondered why she had taken
the trouble to look. What was the
IF IL of
What was time indeed but waste, one
long-drawn torment of waiting in idle
ness and impotence for the sign that
never came to set her free?
she could have shreked for sheer
evaporation of ennui without alloy.
She told herself that anything were
better than such a fate as this. Why
not Shrek till her cries fetched the
police? Or, better still, arise. go forth,
and court arrest? A cell In the Tombs
were preferable to this place Of dubi-
Gus security. Was she less prisoner
here than she wouln be there?
But she did not Shrek. she did not
move. she did nothing, but remained
as she had been on awakening from
the desolating stupidity of unneeded
sleep, so still she scarcely seemed
living. breathing being.
More lurid lightning, a deeper did.
pason of thunder, again that breath
less hush
OF sudden she left the bed and in
one soundless bound gained the mid
die of the floor. where she paused in
the crouch of hunted thing at bay,
her wide gaze fastened to the door.
Through wait so long that she
concluded her hearing must have been
at fault. she heard nothing. She re-
Taxed, drew deep breath-and grew
noise repeated. a stealthy knocking on
the panels.
With an ear TO the crack between
door and frame she seemed to detect
painting murmur: mora
she called guardedly: "who's
there?" A voice of greater confidence
replied: "Me-Charlie-le' me inl
She drew a bolt and turned the knob,
distrustfully opening the door few
inches with q shoulder to 1t, prepared
TO slam 1t shut with all her might
should she find cause to think she was
being tricked. In the outer murk, the
pale contour of face she knew was
just discernible. She stood aside and
let it's owner enter.
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