Mexico weekly ledger., 1922-04-13
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odd manner REQUIRED to her, one wave
~ memory. and she seemed to hear
again Nina's ungracious tone.
-He told her!" she said. suddenly.
-She saw Royal, and he told herl Poor
Child"
And she went to Nina's room, with
Q vague idea that she would sit beside
ne weeping girl for awhile. one heavy
heart close to the other, even If no
words could pass between them.
But Nina lay sleeping peacefully,
and Harriet, after watching her for a
few minutes, went back to her own
soon. She went to the open window,
end stood staring absently out at the
dark summer night, the great branches
q the trees moving in the restless
wind, and the oblong of dull light that
stll fell from the library window.
She could not see the horror as
Richard saw 1t: she could not see her
self as only q mistaken woman, q
woman with youth, beauty, and intel
Hgence pleading for her, n problem
more In his life, 1t is true, but only
n among many, and not the greatest.
Che did not zee him as he saw himself,
his family as the somewhat trouble
some, and yet quite understandable,
group Of selfish human beings In whose
p~efplexities he had always played the
paTf Of arbiter.
TO Harriet the thing doomed momen-
IDus, unforgiving, ~incalculable. 1t as
sumed to her the proportions Of q muir
der. Richard, IN her estimation, was
NOT what he thought himself, o some.
what ordinary nan In the Sorties
whose life had already held poverty
and disbursement and wholesome
disappointment. whose nature had
been tempered to humor and generos-
ity and philosophy; to Harriet, he was
tho richest, the finest, the most desery-
ing Of men, and she the adventures
who had brought his name down to
shame and dishonor.
Until two o'clock she was wretched-
" busy in soul and body. When the
last Of her personal possessions was
packed, and when she was aching from
heal to foot, she took a hot bath, and
crept into bed.
But not to sleep. The feverish
agonies Of shame and reproach held
her. She was pleading with Richard,
she was talking to Nina-she was max
ing little of it-making much of It
she was saying a reluctant "yes-yes-
yes!" to their questioning.
At four o'clock she dressed herself
again, half-mad with headache and
fatigue, and went out into a world
that was just beginning to brighten in
to faint shapes and cOlors.
A steamer moved majestically up
the river, the smoothly widening wake
spread from shore to shore; pink light
showed at one cabin window; and into
Harrfet's somber thoughts came unbid-
den the picture of a yawning cook,
stumbling about amid his soot-blackS
ened pots and pans.
With the morning, the peace Of a
conquered spirit fell upon her. She
had thought 1t all to an ending at
last. 1t seemed to Harriet that never
in her life had she thought so clearly,
so truly, so bravely. Her duty to
Richard, to his children. to Linda; she
had faced them without fear and with
out deception, tasting the humiliating
truth to its bitter dregs, planning the
few short interviews that must pre-
cede her leaving them all forever.
For Harriet emerged from the fur
nace the mistress Of her own soul.
She had been wrong; she had been
weak she had been contemplate, hut
not so wrong or weak or contemplate
as they would think her. She would go
on her way now, the Drawer for the
lesson and the shame. And what they
thought Of her must never shake again
her W knowledge of her own in
nocence.
Go on her way to what? She did'not
know. But she neither feared what the
future might hold nor doubted 1t. She
could make her way from a new
beginning. But before l go" said
Harriet, r~esolutely, II must tell him
that I'm sorry. And I must ask Nina
to forgive me-" :
She turned, and buried her face in
the thick, soft sleeve Of her coat. But