The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1939-02-27


Il occurred to her again how little,
for all her experience, she really
knew Of what the world was like,
how little she knew of its mean
nesses and crudeness and petty
ambitions and jealousies.
She had never known because
when they came near her she had
always turned away from them.
Now. willy nilly, these things Of
which she had been unaware were
being forced on her by the hard
faced middle-aged woman seated
on the opposite side of the table.
Watching the missionary's wife,
she experienced at the same time
resentment and pity - resentment
at Mrs. Simon's vulgarity and pity
for her very smallness and for all
/ the harshness she OWNED in
background and a childhood of
which she knew nothing whatever.
Listening with only half her
mind, the thought of Albert re-
turned to her, and for a moment
it seemed to her that he was less
awful than she had believed. His
| faults, his vices, were at least
great ones. The evil he had done
was vast and far-reaching. In
| his selfishness, in his ambition,
there was a kind of evil grandeur.
And then forgetting Mrs. Simon
altogether, she thought, He is
very likely dead . if not by the
earthquake, from the illness.
shall never see him again and I
am free" And then after mo-
ment. But what am l to do with
my freedom? Where am to go?
What reason have I for living ."
And suddenly she understood for
a second the performances of the
satisfaction which Aunt Phoebe
must know, sense of fulfillment,
of having done ones duty, so
great that it annihilated fear and
boredom and disorder and even the
terror of death. No, that she had
never known. And she thought, Il
am intelligent. l am strong as an
OK. l have never been of the least
use to any one. I might still make
a try. l might find something
more wonderful than I have ever
known ! might some day come
to have in my eye that look of
peace which is in the eyes of that
old lady and in the eyes of that
funny, disagreeable Scotswoman
who runs the hospital for the
Major"
Like a schoolgirl she began. in
the silence of Aunt Phoebes kitch-
en-, to have dreams and ideas about
another existence. The catastro-
phe had broken the line of her
life. Now, alone, she knew that
circumstances had freed her and
given her another chance, perhaps
the last she would ever have. Al
bert was probably dead by now.
dead as she had predicted on that
morning, years ago it seemed now.
when she had sat across the room
from him, realizing for the first
time all her hatred and contempt.
Yes, he was probably dead fthe
fact left her cold and without feel
ing) and she was free, free not
only of him, but of all that life of
which she had been a part. She
need never go back to the house
in Hill Street or to England. She
could become another person. She
would go to the Maharanee. to
Aunt Phoebe herself, to old Miss
MacDaid, or to the Ma jor and say,
Here l am, strong and healthy.
In all this death and misery there
must be something l can do to
help. Tell me and I will do II"
And suddenly she was seized
with excitement, of kind she had
never known before. That was it.
She would work in the hospitals.
She would work with the Major.
Somehow she would cling to the
edges of that feeling, that emo
ton, which Tom said those others
had about India, the India that
was to stir and. shaking herself,
rise and return to her old dignity
and grandeur.
The room seemed to her sud-
denly small and sitting, and going
to the door she pulled away the
chair and table and opened il and
went out into the Indian night
For a m m n the sky had
cleared here and there, and among
the scattered clouds there were
patches of deep sapphire sky filled
with shining stars. 1t was still
now save for the occasional cry of
a jackal and a distant sound of
roaring which troubled her as if
it were the prelude to some new
catastrophe. Before her, beyond
the barrier of prickly pear and
the shattered mud wall. stretched
the Indian plain, that vast plateau
which extended on and on as far
as the Gulf of Bengal, plain
which could swallow up England
and France and Germany, more
than half of Europe, and still be
empty.
Far off, miles away, near the
barrier of eorpses and wreckage
which Harry Loder and Raschid
i had gone to destroy, rose the dark
mass of Mount ALBANIA, its white
Jain temples dimly glistening in
the light of the Indian sky While
she stood there she experienced,
/ for the first time in all her
crowded and confused existence,
a sense of solitude and insigni-
canoe. which TO her feverish spirit
was like a bath of cold clear
water; and with the solitude came
a kind of peace. And then all al
once she was terrified-of what
she did not know. unless it was
the revelation of her own small
ness. ITO Be Continued)
Copyright, 1887, 1889
H.hLw