The Washington times., 1922-03-10
.MRS.OBENCHA|N.
CHANTS SONG As.
VERDICT NEARS
my Heart ls Scared and
Sore," She MUSES., Await
ing End of Trial.
by PAULINE PAYNE.

For I can act no more;
My greatest dreams OF life are gone.
My heart is Scared ana sore.
Ring down th. curtain,
I beg. dear Lord Of mine:
I'm thankful for the heartaches.
For now-my soul 10 Thine.
Last night in the twilight. just
as the purple shadows were falling
like a mantle over the city.
slender woman in somber black.
with an ashen face. stood wSiting
alone by the iron door that opened
onto the Bridge of Signs to be
taken back to her prison from the
courtroom.
A Dramatic Trial.
And as the ruddy and picturesque
old bailiff, with his rotund body and
slightly clumsy fingers, fumblcd
with the clanking keys. the WON.
ans lips moved and she murmured
the little poem.
The woman was Madalynne Con-
nor Obenchain. And she awaited
her return to the impenetrable gray.
ness OF her cell after one Of the
most dramatic and tremendous
scenes ever enacted In a criminal
court.
The poem was one which she had
dedicated years ago to J. Bolton
Kennedy. the man for whose mys.
terious murder she Ii today on trial.
And as she stood alone, weariiy
leaning against the wall, the lines
came back to haunt her.
Just beyond the oak door at her
back leading into Judge Sidney
Reeves judicial chambey came the
tramp. tramp, tramp of hundreds
Of feet as the ebullient spectators.
one by one. passed out of the room
and on down the wooden stairway.
Just beyond the doorway came the
light laughter of the crowds, which
but an instant before had thrilled
| to the poignant timbre of her voice
as she sobbed out her story on the
stand.
Ribald jests, merry banter be-
tween housewives hurrying home to
prepare the evening meal. all I'LL
tered through the doorway.
Yet just beyond that doorway
into the courtroom, with Its great
green Gothic glass skylight casting
| grotesque arabesques upon the
spectators. Madalynne Conner Oben-
chain had barred her soul in a stu.
pendous and gripping moment that
can be compared only to the mex
| orable force and stark simplicity Of
the old Greek tragedy.
Sorry She Cried.
She had told her story of the
murder Of J. Bolton Kennedy that
moonlight night in August last in
the Beverley Glen.
And the big moment" had pass
ed. Forgotten by the packs Of hu-
manity which but q few hours
ago had fought for places in the
judicial chamber Of the romantic
old hall Of justice, Madalynne
Obenchain stood alone facing the
grim iron door onto the bridge.
She looked tired. weary, exhaust
ed, forsaken. Even the exotic pink
camilla pinned to her heavy black
fox furs was slowly turning black,
stained by her tears.
I'm all right" she smiled wanly.
1T won't be 30 hard any more. I
have no fear Of the cross-examina.
ton tomorrow. am calm and
quiet. Only I'm sorry that I cried.
didn't mean to-"
There was just a hint Of the child
In the plaintive and wistful note in
her voice.
Yet as this same woman had play.
ed her tragic role In the witness box
but a few minutes earlier she had
revealed the profound emotional
depths Of a mature woman of a rare
passionate nature.
During the last twenty-five
minutes Of the afternoon session.
from the recess until the early ad.
journment, all of the elements Of a
powerful drama had surged into one
maddening maelstrom Of the emo
tions leaving the spectators limp and
the woman in the case a sobbing.
crushed. pitiful bit Of quiverring
humanity.
The hour for the mid-afternoon
recess came and went unnoticed yes
terday, Juc Rush. chief defense
attorney, gently and kindly probing
deeper and deeper into the crux Of
wall tick-tocked off the minutes. The
air was suffocating. humid, moist
Spectators and the star witness alike
drooped under the strain.
Like Prima Donna.
"Madalynne IL getting very tired"
Steady Ralph" Obenchain whisper.
ed to Mrs. Desmond, intimate friend
Of the beautiful defendant.
Recess was at last declared. Wom-
en- In the box seats" In the court
passed boxes OF bon bons. Men arose
and went into the corridor for L
smoke, stretching themselves. Mrs.
Obenchain sat at the table with Mrs.
Desmond talking. Steady Ralph"
paced back and forth In the court
room.
She Is like a great prima DONNA"
he confided proudly to friends. II
am overcome. She Is magnificent"
And his eyes hungrily sought the
figure OF the woman who wore the
pallid pink camilla-"the woman In
the case"
Then, as In q theater, a change
came over the audience.
The balliff, quite like the comedy
relief In some old classic tragedy.
lowered the shutters at the windows.
The purple shadows OF the nasccnt
twilight began creeping through the
geometric shutter bars.
From the far corners of the cham.
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