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Show ' THE FATAL DAWN it i X Which Heralds No Proper Time of Day. t. p T v v HP HE wedding had been one of" those brilliant episodes that when , recalled leaves a vague impression as p to the actual part of the marriage cer-i cer-i emony itself. An edifice with an at-, at-, mosphere heavy with the perfume of flowers. A bride no longer screened ' chastely from view beneath a filmy symbol of purity, but a radiant pres- entation of the latest vogue in bridal frocks; a few mumbled words at the altar, and voila tout Perhaps the ethereal beauty of the bride lent a less prosaic note to the occasion than customary. The ex-' ex-' quisite lines of the tall, slim figure, slightly drooping at the moment; a tangle of red-gold curls, and eyes fathomless and changeable as a summer sum-mer sky. A protracted honeymoon. A brief ' t return, then again absence. The whis per, a murmur no louder ..than the wash of wavelets on a distant shore, t but insistent, and it is known that all is not gold that glitters. A crumpled roseleaf has been discovered in a marriage that on the surface appeared flawless. j " Venus had allied herself to Bacchus. "That you should remain with him j k is incredible!" The man spoke with 1 a sort of controlled fury. 1 f "And if I leave him?" She looked 1 I at him curiously, a glint of mockery 1 in her eyes. ! - He moved restlessly under her gaze. The answer was obvious, but he was not prepared to make it. He wanted her badly, but he must have her in his own way. A gain accompanied by loss was not estimated by him as a successful undertaking. And success suc-cess was his god. The gyves of matrimony mat-rimony fettered his actions, but not his desires. At the moment, however, he was not ready to make any sacrifice sacri-fice to gratify them by crossing the social line. "You see, my friend, neither of us is free! It is better to stick to the ship than sink without a struggle!" '. she said. But there was a stabbing pain at her heart, for she loved him. She had understood his silence at her question, the hesitation. He wanted her; he hated to think of her possession by another an-other man, but It was the boundless bound-less difference between lovo and passion! pas-sion! As she leaned on the balcony at his ';, side, the slender throat supporting her ' small golden head, she reminded him of a daffodil on its slender stem. The w , very femininity of her allured him. " j Her close proximity fired his blood. Her voice caressed him. The touch of scorn in her eyes stung him into a J? momentary indiscretion. ,, "Leave him and come to me." The I intensity of his emotion thrilled her. w She pressed againBt his arm with an appealing movement that stirred to life all that was best in him. "You really want me?" Honor, duty what empty words! man-made for the woman, not himself. He laughed at the question, his arms encircling her. "If I had had children it wAld have been impossible," she whis' 6red. "I aopuld never have left' the"m -ovenMor pouV'i 1 " ' ' 'And now?", lie asked unsteadily?' "Now!" The light never seen on land or sea was in her eyes as she raised them tohjs. It-was the woman in the k supreme moment -of 'surrender giving herself i unsullied, by, contact .with lifo and the world unquestioning to the man, blinded by love to the reservations on his part. "I have been loved so little!" she said. "Oh, admired, made love to,J answering his protest "yes, of course, oceans of it. But it isn't the real thing any more than living in a palace is like the home life of a cottage. My mother never forgave me for not being be-ing a boy until I grew up, and then her interest centered in an eligible marriage for me as speedily as possible. pos-sible. I was rather glad of the exchange ex-change at first. He was very good to me. He is still; but he has not the strength to fight the demon -when it takes possession of him. I have never seen him intoxicated. He goes away. It began when he was in some trouble years ago. This appointment that has been given him will. take us to London. I mean it would have done. "Now you will stay with me?" he breathed. "I will stay with you, yes. He will not blame me I think! The divorce' will be hurried forward by him!" "Divorce?" He wondered if his voice sounded as unnatural to her as it did in his own ears. "Yes, ho will not refuse, he really cares for me. But," he could hardly catch the words, "'I will not ask you to wait so long. After I have told 'him. " "Told him!" She felt the arms that enfolded her relax. There was a return of the stabbing pain at her heart. With the shock of one awakening from an exquisite ex-quisite dream, once more she understood. under-stood. She laughed as she withdrew herself from his arms, the mockery in her eyes more pronounced. "You thought you could hang your hat up in my house (or would it be yours?) whenever the whim moved you to do so, regardless of rules, laws and conventions?" She closed her eyes a moment with a sharp intake of her breath. Discovering the skeleton beneath the mask of love is a terrible experience. Particulaily so was it in her case, for while living in the midst of temptation, of the snares and relaxed re-laxed morals of the twentieth century, she had kept herself unspoiled and free from pollution; had believed that the motive of a great love was its excuse, ex-cuse, and to understand was to forgive. for-give. "We return to the starting point. We will stick to the ship, my friend, and sink or swim with it." "You do not understand!" ho said hoarsely, uttering the man's Memorial Me-morial plea for extenuation. "Perhaps not," she said gently. Yet it was her own love that enabled her to understand and to forgive. "Come, it is time to return." She drew a cloak about her shoulders, and as they turned awajjm the pavilion r and strolled homewishe had never seeraod so desirablt, his eyes. v As ''tie walked by her f he 'cursed the Elfish streak in h'character that had lost her; lost hUor the present at all events. P "" ''If ' you are frerome day" he pleaded. L .,,.. ''There is your wi "Yes, but if we wboth free!" '.'Let us not dip inthe future. The present is all we h strength for," ' she said. " V " "You will go to Lion? Well, do ono thing for me, m if I do not deserve it. I will t ask you to write to me; but keca diary -of your life and send it to from time to time?" , Again she was conious of a sense of shock. Was It ssible that he could bo satisfied soasily with the shadow, when the ,sutance had ..been his for the taking? ay, she had innocently in-nocently thrust it ahim. In that I moment she had mou'ed the pinnacle J of her life, had heldut her arms to that elusive thing cled joy and it had evaded her! Shcould never as-'cend as-'cend to such heights gain, but being ' ) a woman 'neither coil she "forget or be satisfied with lesi There was a. touctof malice tinged with amusement in h1 reply "Do yduttiitik yoU enjoy i't?' 'In tfte"iMHffeVm'o8t parts of the world BUHl)eauty a hers would demand de-mand "and 'receive itsust tribute. DJd he think she would spare him the record of her triumpl? r "Enjoy it, no!" ho.dmitted savagely. savage-ly. But by thus piling the dog in the manger he hopecto keep himself constantly in her mid to the detriment detri-ment of other claimas. "Very well, I will cl so." They had reached'the house. He would not see hen again. Beyond them the yachts swaj d gently to and fro at their anchora a. Above them the vaulted sky woult soon be studded with undimmed stars Only the earthly earth-ly 'stars lost their lutre, dimmed by gathering mists. "You will not forgei me?" he begged brokenly. "I will" not forget :ou!" For there is beautjjeven in a false dawn. I Sept. 3rd. I thought of you yesterday, yester-day, away somewhere over the holiday, holi-day, and felt a little homesick. We drove to Richmond. No, not alone. We were quite a lively party. It is not good form here to discuss the war, or allow it to intrude at entertainments. entertain-ments. I punted up the river with an attache from the embassy. Aj really nice boy! Are you jealous? No, you are too busy. Perhaps after work hours you remember me as a good Catholic dips his fingers absent-mindedly absent-mindedly into a font of holy water when it is recalled to his memory. Do men never tire of amassing wealth? Surely you have enough and more than enough. What a svaste of life! If you could have bc:en with me yesterday yes-terday instead! It lis the wonderful peace of everything in this country that ImpresFes one No hurry, apparently appar-ently no though' for the morrow. (Continued on I age Eleven.) THE FATAL DAWN (Continued from Page Seven.) There Is a sort of twilight hush over everything. Frogs, rustling reeds lowing low-ing cattle. The rumbling wheels of a wagon stole towards us on a soft minor note as we drifted on the water. wa-ter. A bird's song, voices acrosB the meadows all sounded in harmony. Such a beautiful world! and yet. 15th. Time slips away imperceptibly. imperceptib-ly. If we had to count each second how terrible life would be! How long, how dreary! But gliding onwards without conscious volition numbs our fears, veils the future and makes of the past a beautiful mirage. "What can I say to you, my friend, on the death of your wife? The suddenness of it must Have hurt you a little, I think. "Why not? One with whom one has lived must mean something in our lives, and we can always spare a little lit-tle love. You say you are going out "West for a change? It will do you good. Nature -is a wonderful sympathizer, sympa-thizer, and in the wide spaces ourselves our-selves and our aims seem dwarfed and trivial. No, I don't think I expected you would come over here. In any case you know best. There is no change in my life, but kindness makes all things bearable. ' Only sometimes I wish. Just this once I must say it! I miss you I want you! It is said that virtue Is only an absence ab-sence of temptation. I wonder! 20th. I suppose wherever you are you have seen the notice of his death in the papers? He would go up in that dreadful aeroplane, and something some-thing went wrong with it. I cannot realize it at present. Such a terrible price to pay for my freedom. Ah, yes, I can honestly say I would rather not have had liberty at such a price. I recall now how thoughtful he was for mo, giving without stint, sparing me and protecting me even from him self when he knew his condition. I reproach myself endlessly when I think how poor was my return for it all! How grudgingly I gave the little I did. It is too soon for you to come to me? I am very lonely. I shall sail for home as soon as possible. But, the voyage I seem to have lost my courage. 25th. No word from you! I suppose sup-pose you are at the ends of the earth ( ', and do not know! I think now that t m I am glad it is so. "We will meet v where we parted. But how different- S ly! Never has life seemed so lovely, , . so full of possibilities. Guiltess of wrong doing, free to spend together the rest of our lives in a union that even the blessing of the church can neither add to nor take from. Oh, golden days! "What penalty will be demanded from us in payment! Oct. 10th. Home! One must leave it to gain understanding of its meaning, mean-ing, the full beauty of it, Home! and your own country! They alone should spell contentment. An uneventful voyage. voy-age. Many friends waiting to welcome wel-come me. Only the one of oil others absent! Am I unreasonable growing selfish and greedj ? I have so much and yet my cup seems empty until he holds it to .my lips and bids me drink. a n No traveler crossing the desert thirBts as I do for it for him! Oct. I have been home a week. No one knows where he is, but he is not on a pleasure trip. He has gone to make more money somewhere. To make more money! I mean as little to him as that! Now that women have the vote I wonder if they will learn to love as men do? Just a part of life, not the whole of it. Should we be happier? I wonder! We cling to our belief in love as we cling to our faith. Hoping much, fearing much, disappointed often, but never doubting. doubt-ing. Oct. I wish I could sleep better! I am always watching for the dawn, the real dawn that will bring him to me. It is said that one never sees the same mirage twice, and for me there will never be This is the last time I shall write in this diary. It Is not mine. Some day he who asked me to write it will read the end of it, the end that began with my husband's death. When he finds how much time he has wasted he will be sorry. I think he deserves punishment, punish-ment, but only a little very little. Ah, my friend, it was wiser to stick to the Bhip! To' sink or swim with it. And it brought us to land. Brought us safely to the port of hope, and the haven of hope. Soon we shall build the nest. She was leaning over the balcony where Bhe had once leaned with him when she heard It. Of course they did not know, had never known. This was one of the few conscious thoughts that remained with her later. The ship, the good old ship had saved her from being a derelict. There was the same crimson and orange sunset making mak-ing a living thing of her hair. The same rippling waves and the yachts at anchor. Nothing changed but the man! He had married again out West. Somewhere where he was amassing more wealth with a new wife. It was ho who had forgotten. Or perhaps he had not forgotten, merely selected something fresh, something new. Men liked change with the kindly kind-ly help of time and the law, or without with-out either. What did it matter so that it was theirs! She listened to all the details of the marriage. He had lost no time. It was even suggested that ho had been in love with the girl in his wife's lifetime. Coming back? No one knew. Who would have thought it of him? The man about town, choosing a wife from the wilds! C'est la vie! Twice he approached the porte-cochere porte-cochere of the hospital only to turn away in anguished indecision. God! Was it for this he had been fool enough to hesitate only a few months back! Hesitation caused by the. selfish streak in his character which demanded the gratification of his wishes without losing anything by It. And for a time fate had stood in with him as she had ever done, first by removing his wife, then by the death of the men who stood in his way. But now! Only the mistake of an initial, and the marriage of his cousin with whom he had been staylnoported as his own! An illndght on by overwork had dolayeturn. Now that ho was back Waced with the news of her illiiis question as to its nature hi met with vague murmurs. Entering the hosijsent in his name to the head oiuse staff. The physician rf him with outstretched hand, ' "I am glad indeeve this opportunity op-portunity of thankifor the gift of this beautiful h It is still far from completio) we have been able to receivw patients." He begged his vio be seated. "What's that? Vdid you ask for? Ah, yes, a vei case! Sucn a beautiful woman, yosng. She was our first case. s considered better to send her&. See her? My dear, sir, that iosBible!" "Why Is it?" "She is in the wof inebriates ! " He had built a pifor the incarceration incar-ceration of the wottjB loved. fner Deane. |