A MORAL BLOT 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 SIGMUND B. ALEXANDER 
 
 AUTHOR OF "WHO LIES?" "THE VEILED BEYOND," " JUDITH, 
 " TEN OF US," ETC. 
 
 What mockery is at the root of laws that rust 
 In creeds of pre-election so unjust 
 If sin be sin, what preference bids it scan 
 With lowering looks of punishment and ban 
 The woman it enslaves and soils, yet pause to absolve the man. 
 
 EDGAR FAWCBTT. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 COPLEY SQUARE 
 
 1894
 
 Copyright, 1894, 
 
 by 
 
 SIGMUND B. ALEXANDER. 
 All rights rtstrvtd. 
 
 A rena Press.
 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 FLORRIE, GRACE, ALFRED, LOUIS 
 AND STANLEY. 
 
 2072254
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE THORN UPON THE ROSE. 
 
 CHAP. PACK 
 
 I. The Scribe 1 
 
 II. The Rose 23 
 
 III. The Tiger Lily 46 
 
 IV. The Parting 66 
 
 V. The Bloom and the Sere 89 
 
 VI. A Bitter Home-coming 104 
 
 VIL Wanderings 119 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE SPOT UPON THE TIGER LILY. 
 
 I. Bohemia 135 
 
 II. King Robert of Sicily 157 
 
 III. Two Women 180 
 
 IV. A Midnight Supper 201 
 
 V. Exit ....... . 222
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE THORN UPON THE ROSE. 
 
 Ver. ' ' I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here 
 
 Giving my verdict on the white rose side." 
 
 Som. " Prick not your finger as you pluck it off." 
 
 SHAKSPEEE (Ilenry VI).
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE SCRIBE. 
 
 " As we are poetical in our natures, so we delight in fable." 
 
 HAZLITT. 
 
 "Fables take off from the severity of instruction and en- 
 force it at the same time that they conceal it." 
 
 ADDISON. 
 
 ..." Much talk about him that I should 
 like to know your Scribe. " 
 
 Two gentlemen were walking along Tre- 
 mont Street amid a throng of theatre-goers, 
 leaving the Boston Museum after an evening 
 performance, and the elder was speaking. 
 "Come," he continued, "let's go to Billy 
 
 Park's for a little lunch." 
 
 v
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 1 ' Do you really mean, then, to say that 
 the identity of 'The Scribe' is a mystery 
 to you ? " queried the younger, as they 
 turned down a side street. ' ' It's an open 
 secret." 
 
 " Do you know it?" 
 
 "Of course, and so does every one in 
 Bohemia." 
 
 ' ' But I am not one of the favored mortals 
 from that abode of the blessed." 
 
 "He makes no secret of his identity, al- 
 though he writes under a nom de plume, and 
 if you care to meet him I will gladly intro- 
 duce you. He's my particular friend and a 
 good fellow, worth knowing." 
 
 1 i I imagined as much, from his writings, " 
 said Durrell, "and your statement as to his 
 friendliness with you only serves to confirm 
 the idea. By-the-way, have you seen this 
 week's paper?" 
 
 " No, but I suppose he has a parable in it, 
 as usual," replied Less. "We can see it in
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 here," he continued, as they entered the res- 
 taurant. 
 
 " And waiter," said Durrell when they had 
 laid aside their coats and ordered lunch, 
 "bring us a copy of this week's Hermes. 
 Yes, here it is, " he cried, glancing through 
 the paper which the waiter handed him. 
 "A short one." 
 
 " Read it," said Less. 
 
 " All right," and in a subdued tone Durrell 
 read the following to his companion : 
 
 "And in the course of their travels Hassan 
 and Ahmed climbed a great mountain. As they 
 neared the summit they espied an inn, and being 
 aweary, said, ' Lo, here will we tarry for a time.' 
 And Ahmed sat himself down upon a bench be- 
 fore the door to gaze about at his leisure, the 
 while Hassan entered the house and ordered their 
 meal. And being a-hungered, Hassan did eat at 
 once of the fare set before him, pausing only to 
 call to his companion, ' Come Ahmed, to the 
 board and partake of the fare our host hath pro- 
 vided. By Allah, it is good ! '
 
 A MOUAL BLOT. 
 
 " And this was blasphemy. 
 
 "And Ahmed sat without gazing down into 
 the valley where Nature, wondrously beautiful, 
 lay unveiled before him. Green plains and woods, 
 dotted witli white houses and villages, and in the 
 distance the great city with its spires and mina- 
 rets from which the soft breath of the breeze 
 bore to his ears the faint music of bells. And 
 the rivers and brooks winding like blue and silver 
 ribbons over the verdant carpet that covered the 
 nakedness of the earth. And the rugged, tower- 
 ing, snow-capped mountains reflecting the light 
 of the sunbeams, and above all the wondrous blue 
 of the heavens, over which now a fleecy cloud, 
 now a soaring bird, floated gracefully. And the 
 beauty of it all entered the soul of Ahmed and 
 filled him with joy and wonder, so that he heard 
 not Hassan and forgot his hunger and weariness 
 in the sight ; and while thus rapt in contempla- 
 tion of Nature's loveliness he murmured, 'Allah, 
 how beautiful ! ' 
 
 " And this was prayer." 
 
 "Good ! " exclaimed Ingraham, as Durrell 
 finished reading. 
 
 "Yes, sir, it is clever," said Durrell em-
 
 A M011AL BLOT. 
 
 phatically, "I must know that chap. Who 
 is he, anyway ? " 
 
 "Talk of the angels," said Less, as he 
 glanced towards the door. " Let him speak 
 for himself." 
 
 A good-looking young man of medium 
 height entered as he spoke, and with a smile of 
 recognition approached their table in answer 
 to a beckoning hand. ' ' Hullo, Less, " he ex- 
 claimed cordially, "What are you doing 
 here." 
 
 " Same as you, I presume. Are you 
 alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, just came from the Museum." 
 
 ' ' Well, sit down here with us. Let me pre- 
 sent Mr. Charles Durrell, manager of the 
 Polly Dramatic Company, Mr. Leo Ormsby ; 
 'The Scribe.'" 
 
 "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Ormsby," 
 said Durrell heartily, " we were just discuss- 
 ing your last parable in Hermes." 
 
 "Yes?"
 
 6 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "Didn't see you in the theatre, Leo," ob- 
 served Less. 
 
 "Were you there ? How did you like the 
 play ? " 
 
 "Oh, so, so." 
 
 " What did you think of it, Mr. Ormsby ? " 
 
 "Very little." 
 
 "It is quite a clever play." 
 
 "From a financial standpoint, perhaps. 
 There are signs in it that the author is capa- 
 ble of doing good work, but I suppose if he 
 did his best managers would reject the work, 
 as publishers have rejected manuscripts of 
 mine, saying, That is too good to make any 
 money out of." 
 
 "There's a great deal of truth in that," 
 assented Durrell. 
 
 " This age is a poor one for authors and 
 artists, it is too matter-of-fact," said Leo. 
 " To reach the highest place their art offers 
 and surely without the ambition to do so 
 they can never hope to do anything worth
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 doing they must spend their lives a-dream- 
 ing, in giving the imagination full play and 
 vitalizing the conceptions which dreaming 
 gives birth to. When they have to join in 
 the common scramble for bread and butter, 
 like ordinary mortals ; to give up their ca- 
 prices through sheer necessity ; they become 
 tainted, as it were, and the standard of 
 their productions is lowered until they are 
 no longer works of art. The ' pot-boiler ' 
 quenches the fires of genius and poisons 
 ambition." 
 
 " Surely you can write as you please ? " 
 " Oh, yes, I was not speaking of any per- 
 sonal experience, but from general observa- 
 tion. I have been particularly fortunate. 
 The editor of Hermes expects a little from 
 me every week, and what I do for him is the 
 extent of my literary work, thus far. I am 
 an artist by profession, you know ; Less and I 
 have adjoining studios in Bohemia." 
 
 " While you are talking shop, Leo," said
 
 8 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Less, " tell me, have you found a model for 
 your Diana, yet ? " 
 
 "No, not yet. Do you know some one?" 
 
 "No, but perhaps Charlie can help you 
 out. There are some ' hummers ' in his 
 company." 
 
 " I will be glad to introduce Mr. Ormsfey to 
 the hummers," said Durrell, smilingly. 
 
 " You just notice ' Tiger Lily ' Leo, that's 
 all," said Less, with a significant wag of his 
 head. 
 
 "Who is Tiger Lily?" 
 
 "My leading lady," answered Durrell, 
 "on the programme she is called Miss Lau- 
 rence Varney." 
 
 "You can find material for a parable 
 there," volunteered Less. 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Oh, work in some of your moral reflec- 
 tions on high kicking." 
 
 Durrell laughed. 
 
 "That subject is hardly in my line."
 
 A MOJIAL BLOT. 
 
 " Oh, come, Leo," cried Less, " don't pose 
 as a purist." 
 
 " I have no such intention. I don't pre- 
 tend to be a whit better than the next man. 
 I am human, and therefore not above temp- 
 tation." 
 
 " As for me," said Less, gayly, " speaking 
 in the vein of your parables, if temptation 
 seeks me not, then do I hie me forth to seek 
 temptation." 
 
 "Do you know what you need, Less?" 
 asked Leo seriously. 
 
 " Lots of things ; money principally." 
 
 " I might put the question differently, and 
 I am in earnest, old man. Do you know 
 what would do you the most good ? " 
 
 "Give it up ; a quart of Pommeiy, per- 
 haps. " 
 
 " To marry some nice girl," said Leo. 
 
 " What ! me ? " exclaimed Less in un- 
 feigned astonishment. 
 
 "Why not? Is there anything very dread-
 
 10 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 ful in the idea ? It would make an end of 
 your knocking about, settle you down, in 
 fact, and that's what you need." 
 
 "Maybe you're right, Leo," said Less, 
 " but I haven't run across the right girl yet, 
 and when I do she will probably not be an 
 heiress, so I shall not be able to marry her." 
 
 "I did not think you were mercenary, 
 Less." ' 
 
 "Nor am I, no amount of money could 
 induce me to marry a girl I did not care for, 
 but my tastes are so refined and my pocket 
 so slender that if I indulge in the luxury of 
 a wife she must be one who is able to take 
 her part in the realization of my ideas of re- 
 finement. A wife is expensive, so is refine- 
 ment, and I can't support both alone." 
 
 " There's love in a cottage began 
 Durrell. 
 
 " With bacon and greens, eh ? " interrupted 
 Less. " Excuse me, I prefer canvas -back 
 duck."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 11 
 
 11 You ask too much, Less," said Leo. 
 
 "I know it, and I'm not likely to get it. 
 If I do, well and good ; if not, I'm quite com- 
 fortable as I am, thank you. As for bacon 
 and greens bah ! " 
 
 "I'm sorry to hear you talk so, Less," re- 
 turned Leo, " because as long as you enter- 
 tain such ideas you will never be a great 
 artist." 
 
 "How does that f ollow ?" asked Durrell, 
 curiously. 
 
 "Naturally enough, according to the 
 theories of one of my college professors." 
 
 "What are these theories? I cannot 
 conceive what connection a man's views 
 upon matrimony can have with his achieve- 
 ments as an artist." 
 
 " I will try to explain. An artist's aim is 
 to conceive and produce for his fellow-men 
 that which is beautiful. Beauty is always 
 the nearest expression or suggestion attain- 
 able of the best. Best is a vague term,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 however, varying with our conceptions. 
 Nature never gives us a perfect object ; every 
 advance to the best opens the way to a 
 higher best. Outward forms seem beauti- 
 ful to us because they are indicative of 
 functional, or inward perfection, as, for in- 
 stance, health in man. It is impossible to dis- 
 sociate perfect physical from moral beauty, 
 for in order to attain that health which 
 gives physical beauty we must exercise 
 certain moral qualities. Physical nature 
 can be improved by moral nature." 
 
 "That's all very pretty and very true, but 
 what has it to do with the question in hand ? " 
 asked Less. 
 
 "A great deal, for it leads up to the fact 
 that the man who leads an intemperate life 
 cannot produce a work of art, since his hand 
 and eye must have moral training. The 
 finest work is not accomplished by intel- 
 lectual power alone, moral power is required 
 the power of conceiving ideal beauty and
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 13 
 
 idealizing every one of our actions, and, most 
 of all, our own characters and lives." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well, such sentiments as you express 
 must, so long as you harbor them, affect 
 your character, and your character must 
 have a direct influence upon your work." 
 
 " Such fine assthetic deductions are al- 
 together too much for me." 
 
 "^Esthetic they are, I admit, and perhaps 
 they may appear extreme ; if so, think them 
 over, there is more in them than may appear 
 at first, but I don't mean to preach a sermon, 
 let us change the subject." 
 
 "I'm agreeable," said Less, good-natured- 
 ly, "the discussion of the prospects for re- 
 forming your obedient has little interest for 
 me. I know him to be a hopeless case, past 
 reform. " 
 
 "But a royal good fellow, Less, whom 
 I hope to retain as a friend," said Leo, 
 smilingly.
 
 14 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " Just as long as you'll have me, old man," 
 cried Less heartily. 
 
 ' ' Did you ever try writing for the stage, 
 Mr. Ormsby ? " inquired Durrell. 
 
 "I have two or three manuscripts lying 
 in my studio somewhere that have been 
 submitted to managers and returned with 
 thanks, unread, I suspect." 
 
 " Did you sign them, < The Scribe ' ? " 
 
 " No, I used my own name." 
 
 "That was a mistake." 
 
 "Perhaps so." 
 
 "I may be able to assist you in finding a 
 market for your plays ; I can get them read 
 for you at any rate. 
 
 " Thank you, I may take advantage of 
 your kind offer." 
 
 " Do so. What are your works, dramas ? " 
 
 "No, no, nothing so ambitious. Prin- 
 cipally little comediettas." 
 
 "Ah, curtain raisers." 
 
 "Yes."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 15 
 
 "Have you nothing more pretentious ?" 
 
 11 Yes, one piece ; I don't know just what 
 to call it. It is founded on Longfellow's 
 'King Eobert of Sicily,' but does not follow 
 the story over closely. It is not exactly a 
 burlesque, but it comes near being one." 
 
 "A burlesque !" exclaimed Durrell, "that's 
 right in my line, and I want a new piece, too. 
 You must let me see it. " 
 
 "I will do so with pleasure, but it is not 
 a burlesque in the accepted sense of the 
 word." 
 
 " Never mind what it is, if it suits my 
 people, and I decide to do it, they will make 
 a burlesque of it soon enough." 
 
 "Well, I will send you the manuscript if 
 you wish me to." 
 
 " Good. I am at Clark's," said Durrell. 
 
 "And now I must be going," said Leo, 
 rising as he spoke. "I hope we shall 'meet 
 again, Mr. Durrell." 
 
 " We shall, am I not to see your play ? "
 
 16 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "True. Good-night." 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 And Leo left the pair in the now almost 
 deserted cafe, smoking their fragrant ha- 
 vanas over the remains of a dainty lunch. 
 
 He had absorbed some of the romance 
 from the play he had witnessed, just enough 
 to color his thoughts, and the still, calm, 
 starry beauty of the November night 
 strengthened the sentimental mood he was 
 in. He walked slowly and meditatively, 
 letting his thoughts wander idly, but amid 
 the play of fancy in his mind there was ever 
 present the vision of a fair face, full of the 
 freshness of youth, embowered in a halo of 
 golden hair, from which the deep blue eyes 
 sparkled and the cherry lip pouted and 
 smiled with charming witchery. 
 
 "My Rose," thought the young man 
 ecstatically, "my sweet, my fragrant Rose, 
 she is what ? A woman only. That is all 
 she can be, all I can desire. I must not be
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 17 
 
 like those who, when they feel that they love, 
 picture the object of their affections as .an 
 ideal, which, if she is human, she is bound to 
 fall below. Every one has viilgar traits, and 
 every lover tries not to see these traits in 
 his mistress, tries so hard that he blinds 
 himself for a time, by raising her into the 
 realms of idealism ; but the higher he raises 
 her the greater will be her fall, for the fall 
 must inevitably come when his sight is re- 
 stored. It is after this awakening to cold 
 reality that real love begins ; when a couple 
 thoroughly realize that they are but man 
 and woman, poor clay, after all, without a 
 particle of fanciful romance in them, outside 
 of their imaginations. Then true, deep, ay, 
 and real romantic, love begins a, love with a 
 substantial foundation, a love to last forever. 
 A love like mine for Rose. Yes, although 
 I have not reached that stage of familiar- 
 ity that forces a man to realize that his 
 
 idol is but clay, yet I am a dreamer, an habit- 
 2
 
 IS A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 ual dreamer, and so am able to realize the 
 shallowness of dreams. My love is no dream, 
 it is reality itself, and I must tell Rose of it 
 very soon : not that the little puss does not 
 know I am her slave as well as I do myself, 
 but it is best that I should tell her in so 
 many words. This friendship, this constant 
 companionship we have lived in is very nice, 
 but I feel it is time to bring about an actual 
 understanding, even though Rose and I are 
 sure of each other. A tacit understanding 
 is all very well, but I want something more 
 tangible. Ah, what a sweet little wife she 
 will make, bless her ! " 
 
 Thus meditating, he crossed the Common 
 and entered the new streets on the Back Bay. 
 He paused before a cosy, but unpretentious 
 little dwelling, and drew forth his keys. As 
 he did so the door opened, and a gentleman 
 descended the steps, after bidding some one 
 "Good-night." 
 
 "Doctor Farns worth," exclaimed Leo, as
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 19 
 
 he caught sight of the gentleman's face in the 
 gleam of a street-lamp. "Is any one ill ?" 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Ormsby, is it you?" said the 
 doctor, cordially. " Yes, Mrs. Maynard has 
 had another of her attacks to-night." 
 
 "It is nothing serious I hope ? " 
 
 " Well," replied the doctor, dubiously, " she 
 is all right for the present." 
 
 " You do not mean 
 
 "As you are a member of the household 
 I will tell you ; but remember, Miss Eose 
 does not know how serious the matter is. 
 She is not even to be told of my visit to- 
 night." 
 
 " I understand. " 
 
 "No one but Mr. Choate has been told 
 what I am about to confide to you. Mrs. 
 Maynard's trouble is from her heart ; her 
 attacks are increasing in violence and fre- 
 quency ; I can do nothing for her, and if they 
 continue, as I fear they will, they are liable 
 to carry her off very suddenly. Any shock
 
 20 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 or excitement may bring them on, still I do 
 not wish you to think there is no hope. She 
 may live many years yet, but it will always 
 be with this menace hanging over her. In 
 case of emergency it is well that some of the 
 household should know, and Mrs. Maynard 
 insists that Miss Eose be kept in ignorance. " 
 
 ' ' Yes, that is as well, Rose would only 
 worry herself ill." 
 
 ' ' Let us hope, however, that my fears are 
 groundless," continued the doctor. 
 
 " Let us hope so." 
 
 " And now, good-night." 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 The two men separated ; the doctor walk- 
 ing smartly away while Leo entered the 
 house, careful to make no sound that might 
 disturb the sick woman. He was met in the 
 hall by a hale-looking elderly gentleman to 
 whom he nodded and whispered, " How is 
 she, Mr. Choate?" 
 
 "Sleeping."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 21 
 
 " Poor Rose," thought Leo. 
 
 "You are late, to-night," observed Choate. 
 
 "Yes, I met Less and a friend of his after 
 the play." 
 
 "I don't like to seem an old fogy, Leo," 
 said Choate, "but I want to presume on our 
 old friendship so far as to offer you advice. 
 Drop Lester Ingraham's company. He is a 
 notoriously fast young man, and his society 
 cannot benefit you. A man is known by the 
 company he keeps, and a rising young fellow 
 like you should be cautious." 
 
 "Pshaw!" replied Leo, "you speak so 
 because you don't know Less. I have known 
 him for years ; we went to school together, 
 and I think I understand him thoroughly. 
 A more honest, whole-hearted fellow, I defy 
 you to find. There is nothing false in him, 
 and as for his life, why the very fact that his 
 escapades are so generally known goes to 
 prove that there is no duplicity about him ; 
 that he does not try to hide his doings by
 
 22 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 assuming a hypocritical virtue before people 
 at whom he is slyly laughing in his sleeve, 
 as some fellows I can point out do. Mind 
 you, I don't approve of his life, but because we 
 are friends is no reason that I should follow 
 in his footsteps. Perhaps I may be the 
 means of reforming him. Who knows ? " 
 
 ''That may all be," said Choate, shaking 
 his head dubiously ; " still 
 
 Leo ran upstairs with a hurried "good- 
 night/' as if to escape a lecture. Choate 
 gazed after him with an odd look. 
 
 "A formidable rival/' he muttered.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 "A rosebud set with little wilful thorns." 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 MRS. MAYNARD was the widow of a colonel 
 of the United States Army, and supported 
 herself and her daughter principally upon the 
 meagre pension which his grateful country 
 had awarded her after her husband fell, 
 fighting the Indians. To add to her limited 
 income she took her husband's old friend, 
 Oliver Choate, and Leo Ormsby, the play- 
 fellow of her daughter's childhood, into her 
 household ; knowing them both well, and 
 having plenty of room. The gentlemen ap- 
 preciated the home they thus secured, and 
 lived contentedly under her hospitable roof.
 
 i>4 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Leo Ormsby was, as has been intimated, 
 an artist with literary tastes and, unlike the 
 majority of his brethren of the palette and 
 pen, was able to make his talents yield him a 
 competence. His parents died when he was 
 quite young and left him to the care of a 
 maiden aunt who, after giving him a good 
 education, died also, leaving him, at the age 
 of twenty, alone in the world but in comfort- 
 able circumstances. It was after the death 
 of this good lady that he became a member 
 of the Maynard household. 
 
 Oliver Choate had been the life-long friend 
 of Colonel Maynard and, although a bachelor 
 himself, found great pleasure in his friend's 
 married happiness ; and as the years passed, he 
 watched, with ever-increasing sympathy and 
 interest, the growth and development of the 
 little Rose. On the death of his friend he 
 preferred making his home with the widow 
 to keeping up his bachelor establishment, and 
 many wondered at his choice ; for he was
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 25 
 
 known to be a very wealthy man, and the 
 magnificence of his bachelor quarters was 
 proverbial among his acquaintances, while at 
 Mrs. Maynard's he found no such luxurious 
 appointments ; still it was homelike, and he 
 was content since he had the companionship 
 of his friend's widow and her child, the little 
 Rose, whose blossoming from childhood to 
 girlhood, and girlhood to womanhood, he had 
 watched with eager interest an interest that 
 increased daily, although, for a time, he was 
 unconscious of it, and when, at length, knowl- 
 edge dawned upon him, it was bitter. 
 Sometimes, sitting in the room where Rose 
 was, he would pretend to read, but all the 
 while his eyes would be fixed upon the girl, 
 with a look of desire that seemed out of 
 harmony with his gray hair. He had lived a 
 lonely, loveless life, and now in his declining 
 years, as if in mockery, Cupid had pierced 
 his leathery old heart, and the sting of the 
 shaft was as sharp as if he were a younger
 
 26 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 man. He felt the folly of his position, but so 
 keen, so all devouring was his passion that 
 he was unable to tear himself from the home 
 of Mrs. Maynard, and so he lingered on, 
 beneath the same roof that sheltered the ob- 
 ject of his affections, eating his heart out 
 with a hopeless and almost unholy love and 
 hoping without hope. 
 
 Mrs. Maynard was a quiet, motherly 
 woman, with but one thought, one idea- 
 Rose ; blind to her every fault and too con- 
 scious of her good qualities ; Eose, the de- 
 murest little woman in Boston, full of art- 
 ful mischief, ever ready for some prank, but 
 serious, too, when she chose to be ; impul- 
 sive, fond of reading especially the par- 
 ables in Hermes able to say a sharp thing 
 when her temper was roused, and somewhat 
 unforgiving, headstrong, and inclined to 
 forming biased opinions, discontented be- 
 cause of the many economies their circum- 
 stances forced her and her mother to practise,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 27 
 
 jealous of her more fortunate girl-friends, 
 but politic enough to conceal her feelings 
 and assume an air of content, which was but 
 a screen hiding the constantly-increasing 
 bitterness in her heart, and perhaps be- 
 cause she was an only child, petted and 
 spoiled very selfish. 
 
 On the day following her illness Mrs. 
 Maynard appeared as well as ever ; perhaps 
 she assumed an ease she did not feel to 
 deceive Eose, and if so, she was perfectly 
 successful. 
 
 During the next few days Leo had several 
 interviews with Durrell in regard to his play 
 " King Robert of Sicily " : which had made 
 a good impression upon the manager; and 
 after some little discussion it was arranged 
 that Leo should re- write the play, in certain 
 parts, and if the alterations proved satisfac- 
 tory, Durrell was to produce it. In order 
 that the work should be made to fit the re- 
 quirements of his company, Durrell insisted
 
 28 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 that Leo should come with him. to New York, 
 where the company was playing, to see them 
 act, to meet them aF, and to get their 
 ideas. 
 
 "It is essential to your success," said Dur- 
 rell, " and we don't play in Boston this sea- 
 son. To be sure, we do a number of one-night 
 stands around here, and the company may 
 be in town for a day or so, but that will 
 give you no time, so you must come to New 
 York." 
 
 So it was settled that Leo should go, and 
 when Lester Ingraham heard of the arrange- 
 ment he suddenly discovered that he, too, 
 had urgent business in the metropolis and 
 declared his intention of accompanying 
 them. They laughed when he told them, 
 but were glad of his company, for Less was 
 an agreeable fellow, with no ambition greater 
 than a desire to amuse himself and his 
 friends, and an income that permitted him to 
 realize his aim. He was a very taking man,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 29 
 
 reputed fast in fact, one of the useless orna- 
 ments of society; but his friendship was 
 no hollow sham, aq.d beneath the aimless- 
 ness and lazy good-na ;. lire w hich characterized 
 him, lurked a quality which attracted Leo 
 and firmly cemented their friendship, a 
 rare quality sincerity. 
 
 Leo worked hard at his writing during the 
 few days previous to his departure. He had 
 not only to put his play into shape, but also 
 to leave with the editor of Hermes enough 
 matter to fill his department of the paper 
 during his absence. Every moment he could 
 spare was . spent with Rose, every thought 
 aside from his work was of her, and she 
 knew it. Although no words of love or mar- 
 riage had been spoken by the young people, 
 each felt that words would be but the hollow 
 formality betrothing them before the world ; 
 that whether the words were spoken or not 
 they were none the less tacitly plighted, and 
 Choate, living in the same house with them,
 
 30 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 could not but see and understand the state 
 of affairs. 
 
 He felt a helpless despair and a growing 
 bitterness towards his youthful rival that 
 showed itself in innuendoes, principally re- 
 garding Leo's friendship for Less, insinuat- 
 ing that they were birds of a feather, and 
 causing a vague unrest in Mrs. Maynard's 
 motherly heart. But the young people were 
 oblivious of it all. 
 
 Several days before Leo left for New York 
 Choate was summoned to the great city on 
 important business. It was with the utmost 
 reluctance that he thought of leaving a clear 
 field for Leo, but there was no alternative. 
 His worriment began to tell upon him, and 
 Kose, noticing his altered appearance, 
 asked : 
 
 " Are you ill, Mr. Choate ? " 
 
 " I believe I am," he replied. 
 
 " What is the trouble ?" 
 " I I can't tell," he stammered jokingly,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 31 
 
 in deadly earnest, " I think I must be in 
 love." 
 
 Kose laughed heartily. " Oh, Mr. Choate, 
 who is she ? The idea of your being in love ! " 
 
 "Is the idea so preposterous?" he asked 
 earnestly. ' ' Do you not believe I could make 
 a woman happy ? Why, consider my wealth, 
 I could gratify every whim of my wife ; 
 think, would not hers be an enviable posi- 
 tion ? " He spoke tremulously, but with an 
 intensity that was unusual, and which caused 
 her to regard him curiously. 
 
 " Could this old man be in love with her ? " 
 she thought. " He had certainly been act- 
 ing strangely of late, hinting at He was 
 
 wealthy ; every one knew that : and if " 
 
 She was lost in a brown study for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "You do not answer me," said Choate. 
 
 " Most certainly the picture you paint is 
 a tempting one, Mr. Choate ; but you are 
 joking."
 
 A MOEAL BLOT. 
 
 ' ( But if I were not joking if, for example, 
 you were the one to whom I proposed offer- 
 ing my all, what would you say then ? " 
 
 " I should say well, I should want time 
 to consider what I should say," she answered, 
 as she tripped smilingly away. 
 
 Choate watched her departing form with 
 glittering eyes, and muttered, as he moistened 
 his parched lips, "Perhaps, perhaps yet 
 
 In the evening, as was their custom, 
 Choate, Mrs. Maynard and Rose were gath- 
 ered about the lamp in the sitting-room. 
 In an hour Choate was to leave, and his 
 mind was filled with unquiet thoughts. By 
 gradual stages he led the conversation to the 
 topic uppermost in his mind. 
 
 "And, all things considered, Mrs. May- 
 nard," he said, pursuing the subject, "you 
 honestly believe in love-marriages ? " 
 
 "I do, most decidedly," replied the lady. 
 
 " Let me put a case, suppose Kose had two
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 33 
 
 suitors, let us say, for example, Leo and and 
 myself " 
 
 "Oh, Oliver!" 
 
 "As an example selected at random let it 
 be as I say. Well, Leo's means are limited, 
 mine unlimited, would you prefer giving 
 your child to Leo with an uncertainty for a 
 future, or to me with a well-founded surety ? " 
 
 " Certainly you could offer her greater 
 comforts, but 
 
 "Now, Miss Rose,'' interrupted Choate, 
 " what would your decision be in such a 
 case ? " 
 
 "Carefully, Rose ! " cried Leo gayly as he 
 entered the room. " I have heard enough to 
 know that you are about to choose between 
 Mr. Choate and me. Should he win your 
 favor I will no longer respect his gray hair, 
 let him bewar-r-r-r-r-r-e ! " 
 
 "Now, now, Leo, quit fooling," cried 
 Choate irritably, "and let Rose answer 
 seriously."
 
 34 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "' All right, lire away, Kose, and don't be 
 hard on poor Mr. Choate, you know he leaves 
 us to-night." 
 
 " As forme." said Rose, " I love creature- 
 comforts, and that would make me lean 
 towards wealth 
 
 "Ah! "from Choate. 
 
 " But if I repented.*' 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 " I might lead Crcesus an awful dance. As 
 it is, here is a hand for each ; one for you, 
 Mr. Choate, and one for Leo, so both should 
 be satisfied." 
 
 "I have the hand nearest the heart!" 
 cried Leo. 
 
 " But I have the right one!" muttered 
 Choate. 
 
 ''How strangely Mr. Choate talked," said 
 
 Mrs. Maynard to Eose, when they were alone. 
 
 " He spoke as if he meant what he 
 
 " Nonsense, child."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 35 
 
 ' ' No, Mummy, honest ; and suppose he 
 did ? " 
 
 "Well, suppose he did ?" 
 
 " Well, would it be so awful ? " 
 
 ""Why, Eose!" 
 
 "I don't think it would. I tell you, 
 mother dear, the way we have had to pinch 
 since poor papa died has taught me a lesson 
 and and all in all, I do not think it would 
 be so very dreadful." 
 
 "My dear," said Mrs. Maynard, gravely, 
 " the heart is a tyrant that can make itself 
 cruelly felt when all else is at rest ; never try 
 to deceive yourself into believing that you 
 can silence its cravings ; for you cannot do 
 it." 
 
 " What a sentimental old Mummy you 
 are, to be sure. I I have no heart, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 Mrs. Maynard laughed. 
 
 On the evening before Leo's departure
 
 36 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Mrs, Maynard felt it her duty to call upon 
 her next-door neighbor, perhaps because 
 'the sympathetic lady wished to give Leo 
 a chance to say a last sad farewell ; there 
 was no sadness about the interview, how- 
 ever. 
 
 ' ' Is your parable written yet, Leo ? " 
 " No, I must write it to-night before re- 
 tiring." 
 
 " My ! that will keep you up so late, and 
 you know late hours are so injurious to lit- 
 tle boys. Go right up to your room now 
 and write. " 
 
 " I would, Eose, only you are alone. " 
 "Don't mind me. I am able to take care 
 of myself, and I can read the dictionary or 
 some such book which will entertain me 
 quite as well as you can." 
 
 "My dear girl," cried Leo, "you entirely 
 misunderstand me : if it were only a ques- 
 tion of keeping you company or entertaining 
 you I would go at once ; but the fact is I feel
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 37 
 
 as if I wanted a little company myself, and 
 as you see, I kill two birds with one stone. I 
 did think of calling upon Miss Eussell, but 
 she lives at some distance, and then there 
 is the trouble of dressing, so I thought I 
 might as well put up with what was at 
 hand." 
 
 ' ' Well, I never ! I'll just leave you alone, " 
 cried Eose, rising in mock anger. 
 
 "Then I'll write my parable," returned 
 Leo coolly. 
 
 " No, you won't," exclaimed Rose decisively 
 as she reseated herself upon the tete-a-tete 
 at his side, ' ' I'm going to stay here and talk 
 to you until midnight, so that you will have 
 to work away into the morning, to finish 
 your writing and you won't get a wink of 
 sleep." 
 
 " Oh dear ! " said Leo, "how very dreadful, 
 I thought you said a moment ago that you 
 did not approve of late work for me." 
 
 " I've changed my mind since."
 
 38 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " Indeed ? I thought I missed some little 
 thing about you. What did you change it 
 for ? " 
 
 Now, Leo, 1 think if you " she paused 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 ''Oh, never mind."' 
 
 "But I do mind." 
 
 " Tin sure you don't mind me." 
 
 " My dear child," said Leo with a pedantic 
 air,"pray don't abuse our language ; when 
 you wish to say obey don't say mind." 
 
 "Pshaw!" 
 
 " Don't know him." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Shaw." 
 
 ' ' Oh, Leo, seriously, I had a letter from 
 Mary Shaw to-day and she sent some word 
 or other to you," said Rose, diving her hand 
 into the folds of her skirt in search of that 
 mystery, a woman's pocket, from which, 
 having at length located it, she drew a letter.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 39 
 
 "Here it is. She says let me see oh, yes, 
 1 tell Leo that Emily and I ' : I guess I 
 won't read it to you." 
 
 " Let me read it then." 
 
 "No, siree." 
 
 " But the message is for me." 
 
 " I decline the office of messenger." 
 
 " I'm dying of curiosity, Rose ; do let me 
 see it," and he extended his hand towards 
 the letter. 
 
 With a merry laugh she put her hands 
 behind her, and, looking saucily up at him 
 said, " Get it if you can." 
 
 " You won't give it to me ? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "And you defy me to take it from 
 you ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I cannot employ force, as you are of the 
 feminine gender, gallantry forbids. How 
 am I to get it ? " 
 
 " Use strategy."
 
 40 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "Well, then, first to bring your hands from 
 behind you." 
 
 ' ' If you do that you shall have the letter. " 
 
 ' ' Very well, but as I may not use force 
 you must agree not to get angry at any of 
 my manoeuvres." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Now for it. In order to get that letter 
 I shall have to suffer my face to be slapped," 
 he murmured thoughtfully. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "First move of the campaign," he ex- 
 claimed, and bending over, kissed her full on 
 the lips. 
 
 "Oh Leo!" cried Rose, drawing away 
 blushingly. 
 
 " You are at liberty to slap my face for it," 
 he said calmly. 
 
 " Yes, and bring my hands forward to do 
 it, and then lose my letter. No, sir. " 
 
 '"Second move of the campaign," he said, 
 kissing her again.
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 41 
 
 " Leo Ormsby, if you do that again you'll 
 be sorry for it." 
 
 " Do you surrender ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Third move of the campaign." 
 
 As Leo bent over to kiss her for the third 
 time Rose suddenly moved her head forward, 
 so that, instead of their lips meeting in a 
 kiss, their heads came together with an 
 ignoble bump. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Rose, and startled by 
 the force of the shock she lifted her hand to 
 her head. 
 
 "Caught!" laughed Leo, "the letter is 
 mine." 
 
 " Yes, there it is," and she tossed it to him ; 
 ' ' but I think you're real mean. " 
 
 "/didn't bump your head." 
 
 " No, but you " Rose checked herself and 
 blushed. 
 
 " I know it," cried Leo, laughingly, " and 
 I glory in the act."
 
 42 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "It is hard to think of you as acting at 
 all," returned Rose. " You spend so much 
 of your time a dreaming. " 
 
 " I admit your charge," he replied 
 promptly, ' ' but when in such charming com- 
 pany as I now am, my dreams are banished 
 by the greater attractions of the loveliness 
 before me. " 
 
 " Taffy ! " ejaculated Rose, with a blush. 
 
 " But," continued Leo, smilingly, unmind- 
 ful of her interruption, " although you drive 
 my dreams away when you are present, yet 
 when you are absent the thought of you is 
 the most potent charm I know of to set me 
 castle-building again. Strange, what a 
 paradox you are." 
 
 "Perhaps you are the paradox," she an- 
 swered saucily. 
 
 " Perhaps I am," he said gravely. "Say, 
 Rose, what shall I bring you from New York, 
 as a peace-offering ? " 
 
 "I don't know," she replied uneasily.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Do you?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, a ring, a diamond ring, the 
 symbol of our 
 
 " Well, how have you been getting along 
 in my absence ? " cried Mrs. Maynard, as she 
 entered the room. 
 
 Rose heaved a sigh of relief. 
 
 " I'll tell you about it later, dear," whis- 
 pered Leo, and Rose gently pressed his hand 
 as she left his side to help her mother with 
 her wraps. But Leo found no opportunity to 
 speak again, Rose took good care of that. 
 
 The next day he bade them good-bye, and 
 as he lingered for a moment beside Rose he 
 whispered, ' ' I shall bring the ring with me, 
 darling." In the next number of Hermes 
 Rose read a parable that she felt sure she 
 had inspired. 
 
 THE PARABLE. 
 
 There once lived a wondrously Beautiful maiden, 
 whose hand was sought in marriage by a certain
 
 44 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 rich and a certain poor youth. And it happened 
 that both suitors were fearful of declaring their 
 love to the maid. 
 
 Meeting, one day, they agreed to refer the mat- 
 ter to the high priest. And the high priest spake 
 unto them, saying, "Thus shall, it be decided. 
 Ye shall both make offering to the Gods at the 
 twelfth hour, and he whose offering is most pleas- 
 ing, to him shall the maid be given, and he shall 
 take her to him for his wife." And at these 
 words the rich man laughed and rejoiced exceed- 
 ingly and the poor man was cast down. 
 
 And the rich man hied him home and at the 
 twelfth hour came unto the temple attended by a 
 great train, and laid many rich and costly gifts 
 upon the altar. And he looked about him for the 
 poor man, to see what his offering might be, but 
 saw him not, whereupon he smiled in great con- 
 tent and returned home, and caused himself to be 
 arrayed in rich robes to await the coming of his 
 bride. 
 
 And the poor man went sorrowfully from the 
 high priest's presence, for he knew he could make 
 the Gods no fit offering, yet was he conscious of a 
 purity of heart. And so he wandered amid fields 
 and groves, and the beauty of nature soothed his
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 45 
 
 troubled spirit, and when the twelfth hour was 
 come, he cried, " The Gods are good, for they give 
 me these beauties to live amidst, and if they 
 deny me my heart's desire surely it is because 
 they deem it for the best." And, lo ! as he spake 
 he saw the maiden approaching, and she smiled 
 on him and he took her in his arms, his heart 
 rilled with a great, holy joy, and she was his.
 
 46 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TIGER LILY. 
 
 lt When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
 And finds too late that men betray, 
 What charm can soothe her melancholy, 
 What art can wash her guilt away ?" 
 
 OLIVEB GOLDSMITH. 
 
 " GOOD-MORNING, Mr. Ingraham," said 
 Oliver Choate as he met Less in the cor- 
 ridor of the Imperial Hotel, ' * is Leo in New 
 York yet?" 
 
 " Not yet, but we expect him to-night." 
 was the reply. "Durrell and I came on a 
 few days before him." 
 
 "I return to Boston to-morrow," said 
 Choate, " and I should like to see Leo before 
 I go, if possible." 
 
 " If possible ? " repeated Less, " why, of
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 47 
 
 course it's possible. I'll tell you : I give a 
 little supper to night, after the theatre, to 
 Durrell and some of his company, we shall 
 have Leo there, suppose you come too ? " 
 
 " Well, really. I I stammered 
 
 Choate. 
 
 " It is to be simply a friendly gathering." 
 
 " I don't like to intrude." 
 
 " No intrusion, I assure you," said Less, 
 " rather a pleasure. Come to Hayes' studio 
 at eleven, you know the place I think ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed." 
 
 " All right ; I'll look for you. There's to 
 be a jolly crowd of fellows, some of our best 
 friends, you know, a sort of compliment to 
 Leo." 
 
 " Very nice of you, I'm sure," said Choate, 
 "I'll try to look in." 
 
 " Good ! " And the gentlemen parted. 
 
 " Great Scott ! " chuckled Less, as he 
 watched Choate's departing figure. " What 
 a joke ! It'll be rich to watch that old puri-
 
 48 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 tan when he finds himself with Tiger Lily 
 and the rest of 'em ; a study for a picture, 
 by Jove ! " 
 
 And Choate smiled grimly, as he walked 
 away, muttering to himself, " It will be 
 strange if I cannot find a good foundation 
 to work upon to-night." 
 
 When Leo arrived in New York he was 
 met by Less and Durrell, who gave him hardly 
 time to dress before they hurried him to the 
 theatre to see the final scenes of a burlesque. 
 Here for the first time he saw Miss Laurence 
 Varney, otherwise Tiger Lily. 
 
 She was a magnificent woman, young, 
 tall, well-formed, with a light grace about 
 all her movements that quite banished the 
 impression that she was too large, which a 
 first glance might give rise to. Her hair was 
 black and glossy, her eyes of the same color, 
 shaded by beautifully-arched brows and long 
 lashes, in sharp contrast to the clear olive
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 49 
 
 skin and ruddy lips, and even upon the stage 
 she made use of very few devices to heighten 
 her charms, in the exhibition of which she 
 was by no means chary. 
 
 " Well, Leo, what do you think of her?" 
 asked Less. 
 
 " A beautiful woman," replied Leo, shortly. 
 
 " How would she do as a model for your 
 Diana ? " 
 
 "She might, but that type of .woman is 
 hardly " 
 
 " Never mind the picture," interrupted 
 Durrell, " How will she do for King Eobert ? " 
 
 "Very well, provided she is capable of por- 
 traying a certain pathetic quality, which 
 must mark the manner of the fool, even in 
 his jests." 
 
 " And she can do it," said Durrell, " she's a 
 mighty clever woman, sir. There's the last 
 chorus. Come on." And the three men left 
 the theatre. 
 
 Half an hour later they entered Hayes*
 
 50 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 studio, where they met Hayes, Miss Varney, 
 and three of her sister- actresses, Guida 
 Estes, Cora Shirley and Alma Mandell, a trio 
 of very pretty and lively young women, 
 and a child, the little daughter of Guida 
 Estes, who had acted in the play of the even- 
 ing, figuring upon the programme as Little 
 Ada. Less and Durrell were greeted famil- 
 iarly by all, and Leo was introduced at once. 
 
 " Sorry if we kept you waiting," said Less, 
 " but I shan't waste tune with excuses, and 
 if you're all ready we'll go in at once, " and 
 offering his arm to Guida he led the way to 
 an adjoining room, where a tempting table 
 was spread. 
 
 Leo offered his arm to Laurence Varney, 
 the " Tiger Lily." He had been unaware, 
 until he entered the room, that he was ex- 
 pected to make one of a midnight supper 
 party; had he known it he would have made 
 some excuse to stay away ; not because he 
 deemed it wrong, or feared temptation, he
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 51 
 
 had often before made one at similar gather- 
 ings, but now, he thought, there was a pure 
 girl at home with whom he hoped soon to 
 link his life, and he felt that it would distress 
 and shock her to know he was in such com- 
 pany, that he owed it to his respect for her 
 to keep clear of all contaminating influences ; 
 still, finding himself placed as he was, he 
 could not well withdraw without offending 
 his friends, and perhaps sacrificing all chance 
 of gaining a hearing for his play, and so he 
 decided to remain, mentally determining 
 that it should be the last affair of its kind 
 for him. 
 
 "Come, Ada," said Tiger Lily kindly, to 
 the child who had been left alone, forgotten 
 by her mother. "You shall sit with this 
 gentleman and me." 
 
 The child came to Leo's side at once, " I 
 like you, " she said decidedly. 
 
 Tiger Lily laughed. " You have made a 
 conquest already," she observed, " and no in-
 
 52 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 considerable one, I assure you. Ada is very 
 hard to win. I believe I am the only person 
 in the company she obeys ; her own mother 
 can do nothing with her. 
 
 Leo glanced at Guida, who was laughing 
 and chatting with Less, utterly oblivious of 
 her child, and then at the little one, standing 
 demurely at his side. "I am sure she is a 
 sweet-tempered child," he said, "her face 
 shows it." 
 
 ' ' Yes, indeed, " answered Tiger Lily as they 
 seated themselves at the table, " and there's 
 an old head upon her little shoulders. I thir>]i 
 she is misunderstood." 
 
 " Many of us are." 
 
 " Sometimes I think all are, I am, I know; 
 but it is because I am an actress, a burlesque 
 actress, one who sells her beauty to the public 
 gaze ; yet for all that I am a woman, with a 
 woman's aims and ambitions." 
 
 "Which you may some day realize and 
 enjoy," said Leo, sympathetically, touched
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 63 
 
 by the tinge of pain which colored the 
 actress's blun^ words. 
 
 "Never. I have been guilty of the un- 
 pardonable sin ; I have sold my modesty. I 
 have become a shameless actress, and am 
 branded forever, for I am a woman. Were 
 I a man I would have committed no trans- 
 gression, but civilization has not yet reached 
 the point where man and woman are equal, 
 and, until it does, woman must suffer." 
 
 Leo was silent, he did not know how to 
 answer this strange outburst. After a 
 moment Tiger Lily laughed and continued, 
 "I suppose you are wondering why I talk 
 thus to you ? I don't know myself ; it's a 
 whim, and I make it a point to gratify all 
 my whims. I am a strange girl, they tell me. 
 When the child expressed a liking for you 
 at first sight, I felt confidence in you too, for 
 I believe in the power of intuition which 
 children are said to possess, and so " she 
 broke off abruptly, shrugged her shoulders,
 
 54 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 and began to eat. Evidently she wished to 
 make him forget her words. . 
 
 "Well, little one," said Leo, turning to 
 Ada, ' ' what do you want ? " 
 
 ' ' Some charlotte russe, please, and a glass 
 of champagne." 
 
 " Surely," said Leo, turning to Tiger Lily, 
 " you do not give this child champagne .?" 
 
 ' ' Just a taste, that is all. Here, Ada, you 
 shall sip mine." 
 
 ' ' She ought to be in bed, long ago. " 
 
 " So she had, but children brought up on 
 the stage differ from the ordinary." 
 
 " I should say they did ! Why, what can 
 be the future of a child who at her age at- 
 tends midnight champagne suppers ? " 
 
 "And," continued Tiger Lily, feelingly, 
 " who nightly hears and sees the words and 
 sights that are the inevitable 1 accompaniment 
 of a burlesque troupe. I have told Guida of 
 it often, but my words have no effect ; the 
 child is clever, and earns a larger salary than
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 55 
 
 her mother does, and so she must grow up 
 one of us. There is advanced civilization 
 in a nutshell for you : everything from child- 
 hood to age, soul, body, conscience, all, to be 
 had for money ; and there is no help for it;" 
 
 " Little one," said Leo to the child, "you 
 told me you liked me." 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 ' ' Then will you do something for me ? " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Promise me that you will not drink any 
 more champagne." 
 
 "Never?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 The child looked hesitatingly up into his 
 face. " Will it please you very much ? " she 
 asked at length. 
 
 " Very much." 
 
 "Then I will." 
 
 " Thank you, little one." 
 
 " But I don't see what difference it makes 
 to you." .
 
 56 A MORAL HLOT. 
 
 " It makes this difference, little one ; you 
 like me, and I like you very much, and 
 because I like you I don't want you to drink 
 it, for it is not good for you." 
 
 11 1 suppose it don't hurt grown folks, does 
 it ? " asked the child. 
 
 " If they drink much, it does." 
 
 "Then you must promise me not to drink 
 much. " 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 ' ( And now make Tiger Lily promise. " 
 
 " She will not drink much," said Leo, some- 
 what confusedly, while the actress laughed. 
 
 "But make her promise," insisted Ada. 
 " I know she will, because she likes you." 
 
 "How do you know that, Ada?" asked 
 Tiger Lily. 
 
 " Because you talk to him like it." 
 
 A burst of laughter from the other members 
 of the party interrupted them. Less, warm- 
 ing under the genial influence of the wine and 
 the bright eyes about him was relating one
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 57 
 
 of his famous stories. " Well," he con- 
 tinued, "the only thing left for us to do was 
 to drive there. It was a bitter cold night, 
 and I wanted to wait until morning, but 
 nothing would suit Charlie but to drive over 
 at once. The supper had been a gorgeous 
 success and we started off, pretty well warmed 
 up with the wine we had been drinking. 
 We walked through a number of crooked 
 streets and almost lost ourselves, for we were 
 both strangers in the town, but at last we 
 struck a stable, where we hired a team, 
 promising to send it back in the morning. 
 By that time we were thoroughly chilled, 
 and Charlie insisted upon a warm drink be- 
 
 % 
 
 fore the drive, so we had some punch. He 
 bought a bottle of whiskey and took it into 
 the carriage. Every once in a while we took 
 a drop in order to keep ourselves warm. 
 Well, the consequence of mixing champagne, 
 rum-punch and whiskey is intoxication, and 
 we both succumbed to the consequences ; and
 
 58 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 permit me to say, by way of parenthesis, 
 that I prefer as a stimulant to intoxication, 
 ever since then, an intangible something 
 which writers like my friend Leo there, call 
 bliss. Well, we both were so full of conse- 
 quences, that we put up at the very first 
 hotel we struck, forgetting all about Charlie's, 
 urgent business. The next morning we 
 woke to find ourselves ten miles further 
 from our destination than we were when we 
 started to drive ; we had been going the 
 wrong way all the time, and the worst of it 
 was, we had entirely forgotten where we 
 hired that team. We drove back to the town 
 where we thought we had been the night be- 
 fore, but could find no trace of the owner. 
 Business compelled Charlie to follow the com- 
 pany, and we had to take that blasted horse 
 with us wherever we went. For a week 
 we paid his board, and took him from town 
 to town with us, and finally we were arrested 
 by the indignant owner as horse-thieves. It
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 cost us a pretty penny to get out of that 
 scrape too, eh, Charlie ? " 
 
 ( 'But we did it," said Durrell laughing; 
 "we generally land right side up." 
 
 "Come now," cried Less, "I've started 
 the story-telling, who's next ? " 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 " Here Leo," he continued, "You're a story- 
 teller by trade, give us one now by way of a 
 sample and we are not particular to have it a 
 parable." 
 
 "My ability, such as it is," said Leo, as 
 he saw all eyes turned towards him, "lies 
 in story-writing, not telling, but I will do 
 what I can. I was greatly amused at a very 
 classical chamber concert which I attended 
 in Boston, by an example of the far-famed 
 ' Boston culture ' which the comic papers use 
 
 as a standing joke. The music was rendered 
 
 t 
 
 by an excellent string orchestra, but the pro- 
 gramme was so heavy that long before the 
 last number the audience was thoroughly
 
 60 A MORAL SLOT. 
 
 exhausted. This last number was to be the 
 heaviest piece of all, and was supposed, ac- 
 cording to the programme to represent in its 
 various movements, sickness, delirium, ex- 
 haustion, rest, convalescence, and health." 
 At the last moment it was thought advisable 
 to substitute a well-known composition of 
 Mozart's for this piece, in order to lighten 
 the effect of the concert, and the change was 
 made without informing the audience. I 
 overheard a gentleman explaining the music 
 as it progressed to the ladies he was escort- 
 ing. He explained from his programme, find- 
 ing the representation of sickness, delirium, 
 et cetera, in Mozart's work with so much 
 ingenuity that the great composer himself 
 might have been persuaded that he had 
 represented the themes set down upon the 
 programme, although anything of so gloomy 
 a nature was far from his thoughts when he 
 composed the lively strains." 
 
 "That's a pretty flat story, Leo," vol-
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 61 
 
 unteered Less, bluntly, "you can do better, 
 come, try again, and give us something 
 spicy." 
 
 "Later, perhaps," replied Leo, "give 
 some one else a chance." 
 
 " Why do you feel under restraint with 
 us ? " asked Tiger Lily, turning to Leo. 
 
 ' ' Under restraint ? Why do you ask 
 that ? I assure you I am perfectly at ease." 
 
 " Yes, at ease as you would be in a draw- 
 ing room or at a reception. Etiquette is 
 hardly necessary here." 
 
 "How would you have me conduct my- 
 self ? " 
 
 "I hardly know," answered Tiger Lily, 
 " there is something in your manner that 
 makes it appear as if you felt yourself out of 
 place." 
 
 " Nonsense, I have attended many a Bo- 
 hemian supper, in fact I am a thorough 
 Bohemian, ask Less, if you doubt me." 
 
 " Oh, I believe you. You are a very odd
 
 Gl> A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 fellow, I think ; I've read a lot of those 
 parables you write, and they confirm my 
 belief. I'm an odd girl, too, and so I rather 
 like you ; I think we shall be friends. " 
 
 "I hope so," murmured Leo. He felt a 
 tugging at his coat sleeve and turning, saw 
 that Ada wished to speak to him. " What 
 is it, little one ? " he asked. 
 
 "I told you Tiger Lily liked you," said 
 the child, triumphantly, "and now she says 
 so herself ; you see I was right." 
 
 Leo raised his glass to his lips, at a loss 
 for a reply. 
 
 "Little pitchers," laughed Tiger Lily, "I 
 think," she continued, after a moment, "that 
 I can find the key to your reserve." 
 
 Leo smiled. " Try it," he said. 
 
 " Are you in love ? " she asked bluntly. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, promptly. 
 
 "I don't believe it," said Tiger Lily smil- 
 ingly, " you confess too freely." 
 
 " If I said no, you would not believe me,"
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 63 
 
 said Leo, good-naturedly, " and I said yes, and 
 you do not believe me. Perhaps I answered 
 as I do not wish you to believe." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 "How did they come to call you Tiger 
 Lily ! " he asked, to change the subject, for 
 he would have deemed it sacrilege to speak 
 of Eose in such company, and the conversa- 
 tion was too near her to please him. 
 
 " I rather like a nickname," replied Tiger 
 . Lily, "and some one called me Tiger Lily 
 once, when I was angry, and the name has 
 clung to me. I shall keep it until I can find 
 a better. Can you suggest an improvement ? 
 you are an author, and ought to be able 
 to." 
 
 " Since you challenge me in that way I've 
 a mind to make the attempt, although I 
 hardly know you well enough to do so." 
 
 " Never mind, try it. Attention, every- 
 body ! " she called, raising her voice and rap- 
 ping upon the table. "My old nickname of
 
 64 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Tiger Lily is worn out, and our author is 
 going to supply a new one." 
 
 Every one turned smilingly to Leo. 
 
 " Come, fire away, old man," cried Less, 
 11 we're all attention. Fill up everybody and 
 drink to the christening." 
 
 The laughter and noise following this 
 sally drowned the sound of a closing door 
 as Oliver Choate entered the outer room. 
 He saw, through the door, which stood ajar, 
 the half-intoxicated men and women within, 
 and Leo rising smilingly to say, as he held 
 aloft a brimming glass of champagne, ' ' Miss 
 Laurence Varney, henceforth be it known to 
 all whom it may concern, that we, the august 
 Court of Nicknames, do solemnly decree, that 
 on this, the twenty-ninth day of November, 
 Anno Domino, Eighteen Hundred and Ninety- 
 three, you shall cast aside for use upon state 
 occasions, the nickname of Tiger Lily, and 
 shall use the said name for rainy days only; 
 and furthermore, be it decreed that the state
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 65 
 
 nickname which you shall henceforward be 
 known by is, Miss Larry." 
 
 " Miss Larry forever ! " vociferated the 
 company, as they rose to their feet and 
 pledged the actress with brimming glasses. 
 
 Tiger Lily rose also with a pretence of 
 emotion and said tremulously, " Friends, this 
 enthusiasm is too much, I am quite overcome, 
 believe me I I ah, Godpapa, support me ? " 
 and with mock faintness she threw herself 
 into Leo's arms. 
 
 The company burst into a roar of laugh- 
 ter and drained their glasses. Oliver Choate 
 turned from the scene, and beckoning a 
 servant who was passing said to him, " Take 
 my card to Mr. Ingraham, and tell him I 
 regret that I cannot stop," and he left the 
 place hurriedly, chuckling to himself as he 
 went, "I've got him!" he muttered glee- 
 fully, " I've got him now ! "
 
 66 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PARTING. 
 
 
 
 " Parting is such sweet sorrow 
 That I could say good-night, till it be morrow." 
 
 SHAKSPEKE (Borneo and Juliet). 
 
 AFTER reading Leo's play, Durrell's stage- 
 manager, a man old and experienced in his 
 business, shook his head dubiously, saying, 
 "It's an excellent work, too good for us, 
 that's the trouble. It may go ; still, before 
 reading it to the company, I would advise a 
 few further alterations. When they hear 
 it they will ask for more changes, you may 
 be sure, but what I advise will be absolutely 
 necessary before the piece can be produced." 
 
 And so Leo set to work with a will, rewrit- 
 ing as he was directed, working with all the
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 67 
 
 more vigor because he knew his task must 
 be finished before he could return to Rose. 
 For nearly a week he applied himself steadily, 
 and during this time did not hear a word 
 from home. He wrote several times to Eose 
 but received no answer, and it was with a 
 feeling of relief that he at length completed 
 his task and announced his readiness to read 
 the work to Durrell and his company. 
 
 Both Durrell and Less tried repeatedly to 
 induce him to join them in supping with the 
 actresses or in wandering about the city in 
 search of adventures, and exploring some of 
 its most questionable quarters, but he was 
 firm in his refusals, much to the chagrin of 
 Less, who had counted upon his company in 
 their escapades. Leo felt that an explanation 
 was due to his friend, and he confided to him 
 the fact of his love for Rose and his hopes of 
 winning her. Less appreciated the motives 
 which prompted the refusals, and said noth- 
 ing further to weaken Leo's resolve.
 
 68 A MORAL SLOT. 
 
 Leo often met little Ada and the ladies of 
 Durrell's company. The child had taken a 
 great liking to him, and insisted upon calling 
 upon him frequently. Her mother refused 
 to take her, but Tiger Lily volunteered to 
 humor her whim, and brought her to his 
 hotel nearly every day, led not so much by 
 the child's caprice as by a strong inclination 
 of her own. 
 
 When he left her, on the night of the sup- 
 per, Leo was inclined to think that Tiger 
 Lily was as common as most of the women 
 whom Less chose to associate with, but the 
 more he saw of her, the more he was forced 
 to alter his opinion. True, she was lax in 
 her morals, but this, he came to think, was 
 more the result of association than of choice ; 
 there was a refinement about her that the 
 others lacked ; a womanliness not yet de- 
 stroyed by her fast life. She told him her 
 story. Her mother died in giving her birth, 
 and her father had brought her up sur-
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 69 
 
 rounded with every luxury that wealth could 
 secure, until her fourteenth year, when 
 a great financial panic swallowed up his 
 entire fortune, and he, rather than face the 
 penury that awaited him, committed suicide. 
 The girl was compelled to leave the palatial 
 home to which she had heen accustomed all 
 her life, and go to live with some distant 
 relatives of her father's in a remote country 
 town. Her guardians were narrow-minded 
 people of limited means, who felt that they 
 were doing a great charity by adopting the 
 child, and they let her know it. She was no 
 longer petted and waited upon, in fact, she 
 was looked upon as a sort of upper-servant ; 
 and while her duties were not hard, still they 
 were galling after her past life, and she was 
 thoroughly miserable. Her guardians were 
 not unkind, but too uncultivated to under- 
 stand her and they constantly reproached her 
 for her weeping and ungratefulness while 
 they extolled their own virtue in charitably
 
 70 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 harboring her. For several months she bore 
 her lot, if not patiently, at least without com- 
 plaint, but the fires of rebellion smouldered 
 in her breast ready to flare up at any moment. 
 Her greatest passion had always been 
 for the stage, ,and her father, whose 
 tastes had been similar, encouraged her ; 
 but her guardians were of the strictest 
 puritan type and regarded the stage as a 
 snare of Satan, avoiding shows and show 
 people as a pestilence, and forbidding her 
 to have anything to do with them. It 
 happened that several members of a 
 third-rate burlesque troupe came to the 
 village to pass a few summer weeks, and 
 Tiger Lily made their acquaintance. The 
 manager of the troupe, a shrewd young 
 fellow, heard her sing and saw that she 
 had ability of no mean order. As days 
 passed, they became very friendly, and when 
 to amuse themselves the company gave 
 a performance in the Town Hall, Tiger
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 71 
 
 Lily received tickets. Her guardians, how- 
 ever, forbade her attending, and further- 
 more told her that she must never again 
 associate with her new-found friends. 
 She did not answer, but when the evening 
 of the performance came, stole from the 
 house and went. The next day there was a 
 scene, and her long pent-up wrath ex- 
 ploded. Her guardians stormed and finally 
 
 one of them struck her. It was the first 
 
 \ 
 blow she had ever received and she was 
 
 almost delirious with anger. That night 
 she left her home forever, flying to her 
 theatrical friends. She was given a posi- 
 tion in the company and for a time fared 
 well, but she -was beautiful, she was inno- 
 cent, she was but a child and her associates 
 were thoroughly unscrupulous ; her sur- 
 roundings tended to blunt her moral per- 
 ceptions, and her very innocence caused her 
 downfall. A brute took advantage of her 
 youth, and before she was a woman she
 
 72 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 was oh, the pity of it ! one of the 
 fallen. Think of it, you who know what 
 this means ! she, poor child, did not, she 
 but followed in the footsteps of her 
 companions, she was conscious of no 
 wrong but the consciousness came with 
 womanhood and with it the knowledge 
 of the impotency of regret and repent- 
 ance. She left her old companions to join 
 Durrell and his company, but, while the 
 change was greatly for the better, she had 
 not freed herself from the old life, nor 
 could she ever, try as she might. There 
 were times when she sought oblivion in the 
 wine-cup, desperate in her sorrow, but 
 there always came the reaction. She had 
 taken her place and must abide by her choice 
 through life ; there was no alternative, rebel 
 as she might. The mud of the roadway 
 clings forever about a woman's skirts, but 
 scarcely soils the garments of a man. 
 
 The knowledge of all this softened Leo, and
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 73 
 
 he treated her with a kindly consideration 
 and respect that drew her unconsciously to- 
 wards him. Her woman's heart yearned for 
 sympathy and he gave it to her, and then her 
 yearning grew into love. He was blind to 
 her infatuation, and only saw in her an object 
 for sympathy and a beautiful woman whom 
 he hoped to paint in a picture that would 
 make him famous. 
 
 On the morning of the last day of the 
 company's engagement in New York, 
 Leo read his manuscript before them 
 all. Little was said before him in praise 
 or dispraise of the play, and he left them 
 to discuss their impressions, stating, how- 
 ever, that he proposed leaving for Boston 
 on the night express. 
 
 Durrell called upon him later in the day, 
 bringing the verdict of his players. 
 "The piece is all right," he said, "but 
 the burlesque is hardly broad enough ; 
 introduce a couple of topical songs, some
 
 74 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 chances for skirt dancing, and for horse- 
 play by the comedians and it will go ; " 
 and turning over the leaves of the manu- 
 script, he gave some examples of what he 
 meant. 
 
 '''But, my dear Durrell," cried Leo, 
 " don't you see that my subject is one 
 requiring the utmost delicacy to burlesque ? 
 Such broad bits of humor as you suggest, 
 while they may be very well in their way, 
 are entirely out of place in a piece like 
 'King Robert.'" 
 
 "Yes, yes, that's all very well from a 
 literary standpoint," answered Durrell ; 
 "but people who go to see a burlesque 
 are seldom literary, and their palates are 
 not educated to appreciate a delicate 
 flavor, they must have something with a 
 tang, and what they demand I must 
 supply." 
 
 "Well," replied Leo, decidedly, "in 
 that case you are not to be blamed, of
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 75 
 
 course, but I do not think I can suit 
 such tastes. If my work cannot be pre- 
 sented as it was conceived, I do not think 
 I care to have it done at all. You have 
 a public to please whose tastes you must 
 observe, but I, on the other hand, have a 
 reputation as a writer to maintain which 
 will not permit me to lower the standard of 
 my work by writing what you require." 
 
 "Tut, tut!" cried Durrell, "what's the 
 use of splitting hairs. If you don't wish it 
 known that you are the author of the piece, 
 use a nom-de-plume. The price we have 
 agreed upon is larger than Hermes pays 
 for ten times the work there is in the play, 
 and as for your standard, keep it up in the 
 paper." 
 
 " There is a great deal in having one's 
 ideas correctly presented, Durrell," answered 
 Leo, " and you want to distort mine into a 
 caricature of what they really are ; and as 
 they are but caricatures originally, you are
 
 70 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 striving to make a caricature of a caricature : 
 just think what an abortion 'that would 
 be." 
 
 " You are altogether too nice in your 
 ideas," snapped Durrell, impatiently. 
 
 " Perhaps I am, and I will not decide on 
 this thing now. Give me a little time to 
 think it over." 
 
 " Very well, I'll see you in Boston next 
 week. You know we close here to-night and 
 leave for Boston to-morrow and lay over 
 there a day or two. I sold out a few days' 
 time here to an amateur company. We 
 play through New England for the next two 
 weeks, and you and I can meet and settle 
 matters before the company goes west." 
 
 " So be it." 
 
 ' ' By the way, Leo, why don't you wait 
 over until to-morrow and travel with us ? 
 See how it storms." 
 
 "I can't," replied Leo, thinking of Rose. 
 " I've stayed here longer than I ought to
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 now; I have something to attend to which I 
 do not like to put off." 
 
 "Business comes first, of course. Well, 
 till we meet again," and with a hearty hand- 
 shake, Durrell took his leave. 
 
 Half an hour later Tiger Lily called with 
 little Ada. 
 
 ' ' Ada insisted we should call again before 
 you left, and here we are," said Tiger Lily, 
 as she entered. 
 
 "And you are both welcome, he replied 
 heartily. "How is the little one to-day ? " 
 
 "I'm nicely," said Ada, perching herself 
 upon his knee. ' ' You ought to feel flattered 
 at our coming to see you through all this 
 storm." 
 
 " Indeed I am, little one, highly flat- 
 tered." 
 
 "I like you to call me ' little one,' it's so 
 much nicer than Ada." 
 
 "Do you think so?" 
 
 "Yes. I think you've got a special knack
 
 78 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 about nicknames ; now you call Tiger Lily, 
 Miss Larry, and she likes it too." 
 
 ' ' How do you know that, Ada ? " asked 
 Tiger Lily with a smile. 
 
 " 'Cause you laugh when anybody calls 
 you it. Say," she continued, turning again 
 to Leo, "are you going away to-day, 
 truly?" 
 
 "Truly." 
 
 "Won't we see you any more ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I hope so." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Perhaps next week." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad, 'cause I thought may- 
 be we wouldn't, and it's hard on a person to 
 lose old friends, and we are old friends, ain't 
 we ? "> 
 
 "Yes, indeed, very old friends, little one. 
 I've loved the girls ever since I learned to 
 talk ; I love them now, and you are one of 
 the most favored ones," and with a merry 
 laugh Leo kissed the child's upturned face.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 79 
 
 Tiger Lily watched them wistfully and 
 sighed. 
 
 " A penny for your thoughts, Miss Larry! " 
 he cried. "What lucky swain caused that 
 sigh ? Here, little one," he continued, de- 
 taching a tiny gold charm from his watch- 
 chain, " wear this on your necklace, to 
 
 remember me by." 
 
 \ 
 
 " Oh, thank you, I'm ever so much obliged," 
 cried the child delightedly, as she took the 
 little gift. *' ' I don't need anything to remem- 
 ber you by, but still, I shall like something to 
 keep, you have given me. " 
 
 "What an interest you take in the child," 
 observed Tiger Lily. 
 
 "Well, you see she takes a great interest 
 in me, and I only reciprocate, " laughed Leo. 
 
 "Can I look at your pictures, please?" 
 interrupted Ada, gathering up an armful of 
 illustrated papers and magazines. 
 
 "Certainly, little one, take them over to 
 the window where it is lightest. "
 
 80 A MORAL SLOT. 
 
 "You do not always reciprocate such an 
 interest, " said Tiger Lily absently. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 " Do you think you do ? " 
 
 "I hope I am not ungrateful." 
 
 "No, not that." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "I sometimes think you are strangely 
 unobservant for one who writes and 
 paints, and who is consequently ever on 
 the watch for little traits of character 
 and tricks of expression," she said, in 
 the same absent, dreamy way. "People's 
 motives, and sometimes their thoughts, 
 ought to be more apparent to you than to 
 others." 
 
 "I can be blinded as well as another," he 
 said, with a puzzled frown. 
 
 "Did you never think that you maybe 
 blind yourself ? " she asked with a far-away 
 look. 
 
 " I do not understand you."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 81 
 
 She sighed, and said, " Perhaps it is as 
 well that you do not." 
 
 " I sometimes think that you do not un- 
 derstand yourself," cried Leo, impetuously. 
 "You were not born for such a life as you 
 lead ; you have a sympathetic heart, a woman- 
 liness, that unfits you for it. It is suited 
 only to women like Ada's mother, selfish, 
 callous creatures, with no aim higher than 
 self-indulgence. You could make some man 
 happy ; Guida never could." 
 
 " I could make some man happy ? Maybe, 
 I cannot say, but could some man make 
 me happy ? " murmured Tiger Lily, tremu- 
 lously. 
 
 "I think so, if I read you rightly; but you 
 have just said that I do not read character 
 well, so perhaps that is hardly for me to say ; 
 it would all depend upon yourself." 
 
 Tiger Lily was agitated ; she was pale, 
 and her hands trembled as she toyed with 
 
 the fringe upon her chair. There was a 
 6
 
 82 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 tremor in her voice as she replied. ' ' Not 
 all, I might try, but my success would de- 
 pend largely upon what manner of man he 
 was. Oh, Leo, if he were like you, dear 
 she paused suddenly, checked by an instant 
 realization of what her impetuosity had 
 hurried her into saying and covered her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 Leo rose to his feet with an exclamation of 
 surprise and pain. He glanced towards Ada 
 to see if the child had heard the actress's 
 words and saw that she was deep in picture- 
 land, utterly oblivious of what was going on 
 around her. 
 
 ' ' Miss Varney , " he said, after a painful 
 pause, "when I return home I shall be en- 
 gaged to a young girl whom I love with all 
 my heart : " 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed passionately, 
 "please forget what I have said, I did not 
 mean to tell you, I I Oh, I am bad enough, 
 Heaven knows, but I have not sunk to "
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 83 
 
 " Ah, Miss Larry," he said kindly, touched 
 by her distress, "I may have been blind to 
 some things, as you say, but I think I have 
 read you well, after all, believe me, your 
 words have not changed my good opinion of 
 
 you." 
 
 " We shall see little of each other here- 
 after," she said, bitterly; "a good thing, too, 
 but but you will always be my friend ? " 
 
 " I willtry." 
 
 " And she tell me about her." 
 
 "We have been companions from child- 
 hood," he replied, "she is good, beautiful, 
 innocent as Heaven, and she loves me. " 
 
 ' ' How his love for her is written on his 
 very face," thought Tiger Lily, as she 
 watched him wistfully. "What is her 
 name ? " she asked. 
 
 "Eose." 
 
 " I release you from your promise." 
 
 " What promise ?" 
 
 " To be my friend," she answered, sadly.
 
 84 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " If you wed her you cannot keep it. She 
 is pure and innocent, you say, therefore she 
 cannot be rny friend ; as her husband you can- 
 not associate with a burlesque actress without 
 causing comment, perhaps jealousy on her 
 part, and consequent unhappiness to your- 
 self and this I will not have. Come Ada, we 
 must go." 
 
 "You are too good a woman for the place 
 you fill," said Leo earnestly. 
 
 " I have fallen in the mire and the stain is 
 indelible. Good-bye, Leo," she said tear- 
 fully, " God bless and prosper you." 
 
 ' ' Good-bye, Miss Larry, believe me, I am 
 your friend at heart, and and I feel for you. 
 Good-bye, little one," and he stooped to kiss 
 the child and hide his face. 
 
 Tiger Lily laughed bitterly and said, 
 " Were I other than I am I should have de- 
 served more than your pity, but as it is 
 Good-bye," and she was gone with the child. 
 
 For a long time Leo sat thinking, after
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 85 
 
 their departure and then, with an impatient 
 sigh, he began to write a parable for Hermes, 
 seeking to distract his thoughts by work. 
 And he wrote thus : 
 
 " Long, long ago lived a race of men called the 
 Humanii, famed far and wide for their beauty, 
 their nobility of character and 'their moral 
 purity. For years they dwelt happily in a fair 
 and fertile valley and were the favored of the 
 Gods until a great man of their race, Athea, 
 by name, defied the Gods and the people upheld 
 him. 
 
 " To punish the Humanii for their rebellion the 
 Gods created a monster, half man, half beast, 
 called the Lustous that for a long time mercilessly 
 ravaged the country and slew the people, despite 
 their resistance. Their utmost efforts were hope- 
 less, for the monster was so terrible that his very 
 appearance deprived the bravest of courage. 
 After a time a treaty was made with the Lustous, 
 whereby the monster agreed to cease his work of 
 devastation provided the Humanii sent to him as 
 a sacrifice, at stated intervals, the most beautiful 
 maiden of their nation.
 
 86 A MOEAL BLOT. 
 
 " Eve was the first selected, and she set forth 
 amid the cries and wailings of a great concourse, 
 for she was as fair and pure as the new-fallen 
 snow and, even in her great fear, a blush came to 
 her cheeks when she found herself the centre of 
 so much attention, and- she modestly cast down 
 her eyes. The escort that accompanied her to the 
 Lustous mountain, den came back without her, in 
 silence and sorrow. 
 
 " And time rolled on until it was necessary to 
 find a second sacrifice for the monster and 
 Thais was the maiden selected. At the foot 
 of the hills, where dwelt the Lustous, Thais 
 and her escort met Eve, the first sacrifice, who 
 laughed and said to her weeping successor, 
 ' Weep not, no harm will befall thee, and when 
 another comes to take thy place thou wilt return 
 as I do.' 
 
 " When Eve returned with the escort, a great 
 crowd gathered about them, shouting with joy 
 that the beautiful maid was returned to them. 
 She did not blush and cast down her eyes, as 
 when she left her home, but rather invited the 
 gaze of the multitude upon her charms, and 
 laughed and chatted with the men. She was the 
 same, yet changed, her beauty, which had before
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 87 
 
 been cloaked with modesty now assumed a garb 
 of boldness. Many men sought her company, and 
 in these men evil traits, before unknown among 
 the Humanii, began to appear. 
 
 " And by and by, Thais returned and another 
 maid went forth to the den of the Lustous and 
 Eve and Thais were much together, and they be- 
 guiled other maidens to be of their company, 
 teaching them to assume the unblushing man- 
 ners which they had learned. For those who 
 were thus taught there was no change; if once 
 they entered upon the ways of the monster his 
 ways must, perforce, be their ways thenceforward, 
 forever. And all the men and women who were 
 followers of Eve and Thais began to develop evil 
 traits unknown before. 
 
 " In time the number of maidens who had been 
 to the monster's den increased, and as their num- 
 ber grew, so did their following until the Humanii 
 became a tainted race. So low did this once noble 
 people fall that the Lustous himself was sum- 
 moned to rule the land, and they cast aside their 
 name Humanii and called themselves the Lustii, 
 in honor of their new ruler, and the women who 
 had been sent to the den of the monster were raised 
 to a high rank and called Wantons.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Cycles of years have passed, and the race of the 
 Humanii has disappeared, yet the descendants of 
 the Wantons still work ill to mankind, as the 
 monster taught their ancestresses, ages ago, but 
 they know not their origin.
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 89 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BLOOM AND THE SERE. 
 
 " Who wisely weds in his maturer years 
 Then let him choose a damsel young and fair 
 To bless his age." 
 
 POPE (January and May). 
 
 UPON his return to Boston, Oliver Choate 
 found Mrs. Maynard again suffering from 
 her old trouble, greatly to the alarm of 
 Rose, who until then had no idea of the 
 nature of her mother's ailment ; Mrs. May- 
 nard soon rallied, however, but the doctor 
 cautioned her very particularly to beware of 
 any excitement or strong emotion. 
 
 Choate was kind and attentive in the ex- 
 treme, and especially was he gentle to Rose, 
 towards whom he showed a tender commisera- 
 tion that she was shrewd enough to thorough-
 
 90 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 ly understand. One evening, as she sat with 
 her mother and Choate, a letter was brought 
 to her ; excusing herself, she eagerly opened 
 it, and the older people, with very different 
 emotions, noticed the smile and blush with 
 which she read it. Shortly afterwards she 
 left the room, saying as she went, "Leo 
 sends his regards." 
 
 Mrs. Maynard turned to Choate with a 
 smile and said, "It is not hard to see how 
 matters stand between the young people." 
 
 Oliver Choate scowled, bit his lips, and 
 abruptly left the room. 
 
 He followed the young girl, and confront- 
 ing her abruptly, exclaimed, "Kose, I want 
 to have an understanding with you. " 
 
 The girl started and changed color, "About 
 what ? " she asked hypocritically. 
 
 " You know well enough ; I want you to 
 choose here and now between Leo Ormsby 
 and me ; between the man who can offer you 
 a life of economy, such as you have always
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 91 
 
 led, and one who offers you a palace and all 
 that wealth can buy." 
 
 "You I you are very abrupt." 
 
 " I make you .a simple proposition, Eose, 
 we will not discuss sentiment now, will you 
 choose a genteel pittance or affluence ? You 
 know that Leo is unable to give you more 
 than you have, and if you are content with 
 that we will say no more about it." He 
 paused, tremblingly awaiting her reply. 
 
 11 Oh, I hate economy, I hate it 1" she ex- 
 claimed fiercely. 
 
 " Then marry me." 
 
 "But Leo " 
 
 " Are you betrothed to him ? " 
 
 " No, but " 
 
 " Then follow your best judgment ; I know 
 you prefer the younger man's love and the 
 old man's wealth, but you may not have 
 both. Believe me, I will be a good 
 husband ; there is nothing I would not do for 
 you "
 
 92 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Rose, "mother would 
 never hear of it ! " 
 
 "Let me try to win her consent, I am 
 sure I can." 
 
 " I am not so sure ; Leo is her prime favor- 
 ite ; besides, I do not know but what I prefer 
 him myself." 
 
 " I can understand that it is hard for you 
 to decide, my dear ; let your mother do so 
 for you. I will state the case to her, bluntly, 
 and we will abide by her verdict. " 
 
 "Speak to her, if you will," said Rose, as 
 she turned to leave him, "but I do not 
 promise anything." 
 
 "I win ! " muttered Choate exultantly. 
 
 He returned to Mrs. Maynard at once, and 
 spoke of Leo and Rose. 
 
 I 
 
 "They will be betrothed soon. I think," 
 smilingly declared the widow. 
 
 "Then you look for serious results?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " Why, Oliver, I am not blind, and surely
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 93 
 
 you must have seen," exclaimed Mrs. May- 
 nard, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course," he assented, " and 
 do you approve ? " 
 
 "You know I do, heartily. It seems to 
 me that you are speaking very differently 
 from your usual tone ; has anything occurred 
 to change you ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Maynard, something has oc- 
 curred which. I deem it my duty to tell you 
 before it is too late. 
 
 "Too late?" 
 
 " Yes. Consideration for your health has 
 silenced me until now, but the time has 
 come when I must speak. You know the 
 character of Lester Ingraham, Leo's friend, 
 a man whose chosen society is the demi- 
 monde, and you have often heard me ask Leo 
 to give him up." 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 "Ingraham is good-hearted enough, per- 
 haps, but not the man one would select as a
 
 94 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 husband for one's daughter. I am sorry to 
 say, Mrs. Maynard, that I have every reason 
 to believe that Leo is one of the same stamp. " 
 
 1 ' Why we never saw an indication you 
 must be mistaken what makes you think 
 so ? " 
 
 ' ' I have the best, the strongest, proofs ; 
 believe me, I would not thus pain you other- 
 wise. I was invited by Ingraham to a mid- 
 night supper in New York. It was the very 
 night that Leo arrived there, direct from 
 Rose. I went to this supper and saw through 
 the open door for I did not enter the supper- 
 room, nor did the people there see me, I saw 
 Leo with his friends, seated at the table with 
 a number of women. Leo rose, glass in hand, 
 and toasted one of these creatures, and she, 
 while they drank her health, rose also, and 
 threw herself into his arms. I did not stay 
 to see more. And this was on the very night 
 he had left Rose, perhaps with kisses from 
 her pure lips upon his, to go thus to one
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 95 
 
 I think I need say no more; you know me of 
 old. I am, I have proven that I am your 
 friend, and I cannot tell you how it pains 
 me to be the bearer of such evil news, but it 
 is true." 
 
 Mrs. Maynard was ghastly. " God help 
 us all ! Oliver, I believe you," she cried 
 piteously, "What shall I do? what shall I 
 do ? " 
 
 "I can hardly counsel you," he answered 
 sadly, but with a fierce inward exultation. 
 
 "It will break her heart, it will break her 
 heart," muttered Mrs. Maynard, rising and 
 pacing unsteadily up and down the room, 
 " Oliver, you must find a way out of it all, 
 you must ; it is too terrible ! I want to feel 
 that my girl's happiness, that her future, will 
 be secure when I am gone. What's to be 
 done ? what's to be done ? " 
 
 "Calm yourself," said Choate apprehen- 
 sively, thinking of the doctor's warning and 
 fearful of the consequences of such violent
 
 96 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 agitation, "this excitement will do you no 
 good. Let us face the difficulty calmly and 
 rationally. Here, be seated : " and he pushed 
 a chair towards her. 
 
 "Never mind me, let us think of Rose, she 
 is the one with suffering before her, I Oh ! " 
 she suddenly cried out, staggering blindly, 
 "I I think I will sit the chair the chair 
 -quick!" 
 
 Choate assisted her to a seat and bent anx- 
 iously over her. She held her hand, tightly 
 clenched, over her heart, and after a moment, 
 gasped painfully, " Do not alarm Rose. I 
 I am very ill again must go to my room 
 call doctor not Rose Oh ! " 
 
 Throughout the night the household was 
 in a state of suspense. Dr. Farns worth 
 labored tirelessly over the sick woman, but 
 with little effect, and reluctantly, at length, 
 he told the anxious ones that she had but a 
 few hours to live.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 97 
 
 Eose was led from the sick-room in a help- 
 less agony of grief, but the invalid bore the 
 news bravely. 
 
 The doctor had conquered her pain, and shi3 
 was in comparative ease when she earnestly 
 asked to be left alone" with Oliver Choate and 
 a clergyman who had been called in. For 
 half an hour or more the three were closeted 
 together, the indistinct murmur of their 
 voices, now and then audible ID the hall, 
 being the only sign that death had not yet 
 claimed his victim. 
 
 When Rose had sufficiently subdued her 
 emotion she returned to her mother's room 
 to wait before the door, with Doctor Farns- 
 worth and the awe-stricken servant-maid, 
 until she could enter, to look again, for the 
 last time in life, upon the dear, kindly face 
 that had smiled with her joy, wept with her 
 sorrow, and been always by with ready sym 
 pathy. There is no love like mother's love, 
 and the thought that she was about to lose it
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 brought to Rose a stronger realization of its 
 value. All the sharp, unfilial words that 
 had ever passed her lips now returned to her 
 memory with startling distinctness. Why 
 had she not been a better child ? If she only 
 might live the past few years again, if time 
 would but roll back ! But time inexorably 
 rolled on, bringing nearer, with each tick of 
 the clock, the moment of parting. 
 
 Doctor Farnsworth was all kindness and 
 consideration, but he knew, from long famil- 
 iarity with such scenes, that all efforts to 
 comfort the girl were useless, and he did 
 not try to check her passionate grief. 
 
 At length, after what seemed an intermi- 
 nable time, the door opened and Eose was 
 called. 
 
 "Control yourself, my child," whispered 
 the doctor, " for your mother's sake." 
 
 With a mighty effort, Rose forced back her 
 tears and entered the room ; but no sooner did 
 she behold the dying woman than all her
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 99 
 
 fortitude forsook her, and she sank beside 
 the bed, hiding her face in the coverlet as she 
 sobbed, "Mother, oh, mother!" 
 
 Mrs. Maynard laid her hand tenderly upon 
 the bowed head of the grief-stricken girl, 
 saying, "All is for the best, Kose ; God's will 
 be done." 
 
 Oliver Choate raised the girl and said with 
 very evident emotion : "Rose, your mother 
 has something to say to you, and you must 
 control yourself to listen. I know it is all 
 *rery hard, but you must bear up. She is 
 very weak and must not tax her strength 
 too far, so listen, child, listen to her, it is for 
 your own good." 
 
 Rose dried her eyes mechanically, and as- 
 suming a kneeling posture, took her mother's 
 hand in both of hers, and said, with a sob, 
 "What is it, mother, dear ? " 
 
 "Rose, I am thinking of your future." 
 
 "Don't think of me, mother." 
 
 " I must, my darling ; listen."
 
 100 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " Yes, dear," sobbed Rose, but her thoughts 
 stumbled blindly after her mother's words ; 
 she hardly followed their meaning, so dazed 
 was she by the suddenness of the blow which 
 was falling. 
 
 ' ' I shall leave you penniless. Mr. Choate 
 offers you a home : I want you to accept 
 it." 
 
 " I will, mother, gratefully." 
 
 " That is not all. If you live in his house 
 evil tongues will slander you, you must give 
 him the right to protect you. You mu*t 
 become his wife. Will you ? " 
 
 " Mother, if you wish it," replied Rose. 
 
 "I want to see you his wife before I die." 
 Another outburst of grief from Rose inter- 
 rupted the dying woman, but in a moment it 
 was controlled. " I want you to be married, 
 here, now, by my bedside." 
 
 "Mother, this is no time, no place." 
 
 "I wish it, Rose." 
 , "Yes, mother."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 101 
 
 " Mr. Lorrimer is here ; he can perform 
 the ceremony." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " sobbed the girl franti- 
 cally. 
 
 "Call Dr. Farnsworth and Margaret, they 
 can be witnesses." 
 
 Weeping bitterly Rose obeyed. While she 
 was away from the bedside Choate bent 
 over the invalid, who whispered solemnly, 
 ' ' She is saved from him. I trust you, Oliver ; 
 you must be very good to her." 
 
 He turned away trembling, his face ashy 
 pale and convulsed with emotion, " Dying 1 " 
 he muttered to himself, " surely it was not 
 murder ! I did not mean that my trick 
 should " he checked himself suddenly 
 and peered at the others from under his 
 brows to assure himself they had not heard 
 his words. 
 
 Rose returned with the doctor and the 
 servant, and held the dying woman's hand 
 while the Reverend Mr. Lorrimer spoke the
 
 102 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 impressive words that bound her forever to 
 Oliver Choate. 
 
 ' ' Will you have this man to be your wed- 
 ded husband, to live together after God's 
 ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony, 
 to love, honor and keep him, in sickness and 
 in health and forsaking all others, keep thee 
 only unto him so long as you both shall live ? " 
 
 Her "yes" was spoken almost uncon- 
 sciously. And Choate responded with none 
 of the exultation he had dreamed of; guilt 
 oppressed his conscience, and conscience de- 
 stroyed his passion. 
 
 When the minister had duly pronounced 
 them man and wife, Mrs. Maynard gave a 
 great sigh and murmured, "Now I am at 
 peace." 
 
 Dr. Farnsworth hurried to the bedside and 
 bent over the invalid. In a moment he 
 stood erect and, taking Rose by the hand, he 
 said sadly and sympathetically, "It is all 
 over, Mrs. Choate."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 103 
 
 Eose stood dazed. All over ? Her mother 
 gone ? Mrs. Choate ? She was married and 
 in a few days Leo would return. Leo ! She 
 had not thought of him, and now she was 
 alone, all alone, she might not even turn 
 to him for sympathy. She looked wildly 
 about, from one to another. Her husband 
 approached to comfort her, but she saw the 
 doctor draw the sheet over that dear, still, 
 smiling face on the bed, and with a wild 
 hysterical laugh, fainted.
 
 104 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A BITTER HOME-COMING. 
 
 " But there where I had garnered up my heart, 
 Where either I must live or bear no life, 
 The fountain from the which my current runs, 
 Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence !" 
 
 SHAKSPKKE (Othello). 
 
 WITH a joyful elation that prompted him 
 to hum merrily, to whistle, to drum with his 
 fingers and express his feelings by many 
 little outward signs, Leo took the night 
 train for Boston. Snugly cased in a dainty 
 satin box in his pocket, he carried a ring, in 
 which glittered a diamond of great brill- 
 iancy, for Rose. The ring that was to finally 
 bind them together forever, in the harmony 
 of souls which is so perfect a mingling that 
 one only seems to exist ; the bond of love
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 105 
 
 which makes the true marriage. That which 
 is said before the altar is but the outward 
 evidence, the proclaiming to the world of 
 what has already happened within. 
 
 The weather was bad. For two or three 
 days it had been raining heavily, and there 
 was still no sign of clearing. The wind 
 rushed wildly by the flying train, dashing 
 the raindrops with a swift vicious patter 
 against the window panes, but Leo gave no 
 heed to the weather, his "thoughts were in 
 Boston and his impatience to reach home 
 and Eose was almost unbearable. The mo- 
 ments seemed to drag interminably. He 
 threw away his half -smoked cigar and sought 
 his berth in the sleeper, thinking to pass the 
 hours in sleep. For a long time he tossed 
 restlessly, but at length the unceasing, 
 monotonous rumble of the train lulled his 
 tired senses to rest. 
 
 He was awakened by the shrill, piercing 
 shriek of the locomotive's whistle and the
 
 106 ^ MORAL BLOT. 
 
 jarring of the brakes, turned on suddenly, 
 with full force to stop the train. All was 
 confusion in the car, at once, and, unable to 
 ascertain the cause of the trouble from any 
 one about him, Leo hurriedly dressed and 
 went out. The rain was still pouring in tor- 
 rents and the night was inky black. Turn- 
 ing up his coat collar with a shudder and 
 pulling his cap over his ears, he stepped from 
 the car platform to the ground. A splash 
 and spatter told him he had landed in a 
 puddle. Here and there he could see the 
 glimmer of some trainman's lantern which 
 with the long row of lights from the windows 
 of the motionless train, were the only spots 
 that broke the blackness of the night. He 
 walked forward to the locomotive, and, in the 
 circle of light cast by the engine fires, found 
 the conductor surrounded by about a dozen 
 men. 
 
 " It's too dark to see just how bad it is," 
 the conductor was saying, " and we'll have
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 107 
 
 to lay over for an hour or two, and wait for 
 daylight. 'Twouldn't be worth while now to 
 go back, till we find out how we stand an' I 
 wouldn't dare, anyhow. I don't know what 
 other trains may be behind, an' I won't run 
 no risk. A washout's bad enough without 
 a smashup." 
 
 11 Where are we ? " asked a passenger. 
 
 " In the meanest place on the road. Not 
 a town anywhere near, and a nice thick woods 
 all around us." 
 
 "That's pleasant." 
 
 " Wai, I'll git ye out of it quick's I can. 
 I've sent back to telegraph for help ; that's 
 all I can do now." 
 
 "The more hurry the less speed," mut- 
 tered Leo ruefully as he tramped back, 
 through mud and rain, to his place on the 
 train. 
 
 Day dawned and the outlook was gloomy 
 in the extreme. The rain still poured, and 
 there was little prospect of the track being
 
 108 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 repaired for some hours. With several 
 others, Leo undertook to walk to a village 
 some two miles distant, and with much diffi- 
 culty they reached the place, hired a team and 
 drove to the nearest railway station on the 
 other side of the washout. It was an out-of- 
 the-way spot and they were compelled to wait 
 a weary time for a train which they found, 
 after all, did not make connections, and left 
 them to wait again at another dreary country 
 depot. It was nine o'clock that night when 
 Leo reached Boston, tired, dirty, and hungry, 
 but full of delight to think that he was once 
 more near Rose. 
 
 He jumped into a hack and was driven di- 
 rectly to the dear, familiar house. He ran 
 lightly up the steps and pulled the bell vigor- 
 ously. A terrific peal was the result of his 
 exertion and he laughed aloud at the noise. 
 The servant maid opened the door and he 
 stepped in. 
 
 " Hullo, Margaret," he cried cheerily as he
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 109 
 
 removed his coat, how are they all ? Well, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Leo," she said, with a stupid, 
 frightened look. 
 
 ' ' Well, what's wrong ? What makes you 
 stare at me like that ? Is Eose 
 
 "It's Mrs. Maynard, sir." 
 
 "What, another of her attacks? Poor 
 lady ! " 
 
 "She's dead, sir.' 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, and buried." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " 
 
 " And and Miss Eose " 
 
 " Is she well, is she well ? Speak, girl ! " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " My poor, poor girl ! Where is she ? " 
 
 " In the sitting-room, sir." 
 
 "This is awful. I'll go to her at once, as 
 I am. Take my valise to my room, please." 
 He made his way to the sitting-room and 
 found Eose alone. She did not see him but
 
 110 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 sat, absorbed in thought, gazing intently 
 into the fire that flashed and crackled on the 
 hearth. There was a sadness in her post- 
 ure that her mourning garb served to 
 heighten, and Leo's heart thrilled with pity 
 for her. 
 
 " Rose,'' he said softly. 
 
 With a little cry of terror she clutched the 
 arms of her chair and turned a pallid face 
 to him that showed traces of much weeping 
 and care in the dark circles under the blood- 
 shot eyes. "You, Leo !"she gasped. 
 
 "Yes, dear, it is I. Do not rise. Why 
 did you not write me of your great sorrow 
 that I might come to comfort you ? " 
 
 "I I Oh, Leo !" a burst of tears choked 
 her utterance. 
 
 "There, there, dear, never mind, I can 
 quite understand that at such a time you 
 could not think. I am here now and I know 
 all, so I can help you to bear it. Now don't 
 cry any more, be a brave little woman,"
 
 A MORAL BLOT. Ill 
 
 and he drew up a chair and seated himself 
 by her side. 
 
 "No, Leo, you don't know all, I I " 
 
 " But I do," he interrupted, "you are left 
 penniless, eh ? Well, what of that ? I have 
 enough for two, and you shall share with me. 
 You -knew all along that you were to be my 
 wife, didn't you, dear ? and this misfortune 
 only binds us closer together. Why, I 
 brought the ring for you from New York, 
 see, isn't it a beauty ? " and he took the little 
 satin box from his pocket. 
 
 " Put it away, put it away ! " cried Eose, 
 almost inarticulately as she turned away 
 from him to hide her face. 
 
 " Pardon me, dear," he said, as he obeyed 
 her ' ' it was wrong and selfish of me to bring 
 it forth at such a time, but my heart " 
 
 " Mr. Ormsby, I forbid you to speak so 
 to me," said Eose, with an effort. How 
 she despised herself as she spoke and how 
 noble he seemed, how gentle, how full of
 
 112 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 tender sympathy, but she must end it all, 
 she must, at once and forever. 
 
 Leo looked at her in surprise, but her pale, 
 sad face, her gloomy dress, and her evident 
 agitation filled him with pity and he replied 
 gently, "As you please." 
 
 ' ' I must also request that you find another 
 lodging. I need your room." 
 
 Leo smiled. " That is all right enough," 
 he replied. " At present it is hardly proper 
 that I should remain here, but by-and- 
 
 by- -" 
 
 She rose to her feet tremblingly, and 
 choked back a sob. With a miserable effort 
 to appear dignified she half whispered, " My 
 husband wishes it," and then sank back into 
 her chair, sobbing uncontrollably. 
 
 Leo started up with an exclamation of 
 dismay: "My dear child, you are ill," he 
 cried. 
 
 "No," she sobbed wildly, "I am mar- 
 ried,"
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 113 
 
 For a moment he stood looking at her in 
 unbelief, but her distress served to convince 
 him that there was more in her words than 
 he had supposed. He felt a great heart-sick- 
 ness creep over him, and became so giddy 
 that he was forced to grasp a chair for sup- 
 port. Rose remained seated, now and then 
 uttering a sob under the handkerchief 
 which hid her face, utterly miserable. 
 
 "I will not believe it!" gasped Leo, at 
 length. He was very pale and trembled 
 violently. 
 
 The sound of a footstep attracted his 
 notice, and, turning, he saw Olivet Choate 
 entering the room. "Ah, Mr. Choate," he 
 cried, advancing to meet the new-comer, 
 with extended hand, "you are my friend; 
 tell me, she is unwell, it is untrue ! " 
 
 Oliver Choate ignored Leo's proffered 
 hand and crossed the room to where Eose 
 sat, " I do not know what you refer to, sir," 
 he said coldly ; " but my wife is as well as
 
 114 ^1 MORAL BLOT. 
 
 can be expected after her late bereave- 
 ment.'' 
 
 "Your wife' Oh, my God, my God!" 
 exclaimed Leo, sinking into a chair and cov- 
 ering his face. For several moments perfect 
 silence reigned, and the ticking of the clock 
 on the mantle, only, was. heard. 
 
 "Kose dear," said Choate, at last, "this 
 is too much for you. Leave us here, alone," 
 and he laid his hand tenderly upon her 
 shoulder. 
 
 She shook him off roughly, saying with 
 fierce bitterness, ' ' do not touch me ! " 
 
 Leo rose. ''Do not," he said ironically, 
 while his voice trembled strangely, " do not 
 let me be the cause of a quarrel, especially 
 during the delightful days of your honey- 
 moon. I will go." 
 
 "Stay, sir," said Choate as Leo turned to 
 leave the room, " this will probably be our 
 last meeting, and there are some things 
 which you may wish explained."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 115 
 
 ' ' I ask no explanation. It is enough for 
 me that the lady has preferred your riper 
 years and maturer charms to my youth and 
 inexperience," replied Leo, sarcastically. 
 
 " Rose, will you leave us ? " said Choate. 
 
 "No !" she answered decidedly. 
 
 " As you please," he returned with a shrug 
 of his shoulders. 
 
 " Leo," cried Rose, suddenly with passion- 
 ate earnestness, ' ' at my mother's death-bed 
 I married this man because she bade me, 
 and I did not think of myself or of of any 
 one. It was not love oh, no you cannot 
 think that oh, I am so miserable ! " 
 
 "And I," said Choate, determined to 
 bring matters to an end" now, once and 
 for all, " knowing exactly how matters stood, 
 allowed it to go on something I would 
 never have done had I not seen a certain 
 midnight supper in New York where you 
 and your chosen friend, Ingraham, regaled a 
 choice assembly of loose women. I saw one
 
 116 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 of them in your arms, sir, and that on the 
 very day you had left Rose, with protesta- 
 tions of love. The sight convinced me that 
 you were not fit a husband for her, and I 
 married her to save her from you." 
 
 "You do not understand " began Leo. 
 
 "Pardon me." 
 
 " By the almighty God," he cried, despair- 
 ingly, " on my soul, I am as innocent as she 
 is!" 
 
 Rose sobbed bitterly. 
 
 "It is too late to protest now," said 
 Choate, " if an error has been made, it must 
 be abided by. I had the evidence of my 
 eyes and ears." 
 
 "Believe me *or not, as you will," said 
 Leo, bitterly, " it matters little now." 
 
 " I believe you," cried Rose hysterically, 
 " I believe you, Leo." 
 
 " It is a pity you allowed your belief to 
 be shaken at all," he returned contemptuous- 
 ly. "Do you know what it is you have
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 117 
 
 done ? You were to me the embodiment of 
 everything that is true, trusting, noble my 
 ideal ; but you have shattered that bright 
 dream and left me alone in darkness, a poor 
 wreck, stranded upon a desert, with no one 
 to turn to, no one to trust. You thrust me 
 forth from the home-life which you hold up 
 to me as an example to go to the Devil, per- 
 haps." 
 
 Rose did not answer, but her sobs re- 
 doubled. 
 
 "All this is useless, Mr. Ormsby," said 
 Choate, "useless and cruel. Don't you see 
 how agitated Rose is ? Have you no 
 thought for any one besides yourself ? " 
 
 "I am going, sir," said Leo, with a scorn- 
 ful laugh, "good-bye, Mrs. Choate. I wish 
 you much happiness," and he left the 
 room. 
 
 Choate turned to his wife, who had risen 
 to her feet, and was moving unsteadily 
 across the room. He approached to support
 
 118 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 her, and the sound of the closing door that 
 shut Leo from the house reached his ears. 
 
 Rose heard it too, and turned a wild, 
 furious look upon him as she hissed, "you 
 tricked me, by my mother's death-bed, you 
 tricked me into becoming your wife, and you 
 knew I loved him all the time you devil ! "
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 119 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WANDERINGS. 
 
 
 " Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
 
 Remember to have heard 
 
 '. The tempest in my mind 
 
 Doth from my senses take all feeling else, 
 Save what beats there." 
 
 SHAKSPERE (King Lear). 
 
 FOR the moment Leo did not realize the 
 full significance of the destruction of his 
 fondest hopes. Anger and contempt made 
 the pain less keen, but when the door closed 
 after him, shutting him out into the dark- 
 ness and storm, a feeling of despairing help- 
 lessness took possession of him. He was 
 cast forth from what he had always con- 
 sidered his home : she whom he had firmly 
 believed in had destroyed his faith ; his love
 
 120 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 was hopeless; its object a shattered idol, for- 
 ever beyond his reach. Where was he to go, 
 to whom should he turn for sympathy and 
 comfort ? If Rose was false, Rose, in whom 
 he had so faithfully, so unreservedly be- 
 lieved, could he trust any one ? 
 
 Hardly knowing what he did he tramped 
 on through the rain, heedless of the mud in 
 his path or where he was going. He saw a 
 brilliantly-lighted liquor saloon and paused 
 irresolutely to look in at the croVd of men 
 who were drinking, smoking, and laughing 
 before the bar. He was tempted to enter, 
 but while he hesitated an intoxicated man 
 stumbled forth, and he withdrew in disgust. 
 " It has not come to that yet," he muttered 
 as he resumed his walk. At length he 
 began to feel tired and paused to look about 
 him. He was upon the Cambridge Street 
 drawbridge ; how he came there he had no 
 idea. The rain was drizzling lazily, with a 
 penetrating dampness, and a disagreeable
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 121 
 
 chill rose from the waters of the river. Up 
 and down the streets stretched long lines of 
 lights that were mirrored in the puddles and 
 reflected with a blurred faintness by the wet 
 pavements. The gas-jets burned with a 
 sickly yellow flame, made more ghastly by 
 the white, glaring electric lights. The 
 waters of the river, on either hand, were 
 masses of liquid blackness relieved by flash- 
 ing, zigzagging gleams, reflected from the 
 lights on the opposite shores. Leo peered 
 into the black waters but could see nothing. 
 " Black as death ! " he muttered. He heard 
 the lapping of the waves, and there seemed 
 to be a comforting message in the sound. 
 He peered guiltily about to see if he was 
 observed, and heard the click of horses' shoes 
 upon the pavement and the tinkling of a 
 bell as a horse-car approached. The clink- 
 ing changed to a thumping sound as the 
 horses stepped upon the bridge and Leo turned 
 slowly away from the water. His teeth
 
 122 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 were chattering and he instinctively drew 
 his coat tighter about him, muttering : " It's 
 cold." Then, moved by a sudden impulse, 
 he sprang upon the horse-car and rode into 
 town. 
 
 At Bowdoin Square he left the car and 
 resumed his weary tramp ; walking towards 
 the heart of the city. A ragged little urchin 
 followed him whining, " Please buy a 
 paper, mister ! " 
 
 Leo stopped and looked sharply at the lad. 
 "Why are you not at home?" he asked 
 gruffly, but not unkindly. 
 
 "I'm stuck on de papers," answered th'e 
 lad, holding out a bundle of wet papers to 
 prove his assertion. 
 
 "And if you sell them you'll go home?" 
 
 "You bet !" 
 
 " Here, give them to me," and Leo tossed 
 the papers into the gutter and gave the boy 
 a dollar. "Now go home," and without 
 waiting for the urchin's thanks he walked
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 123 
 
 on. ' ' Even that shivering, poverty-stricken, 
 little brat has a home," he thought bitterly, 
 " I am more miserable than he. " He turned 
 to look back at the boy and saw he had 
 gathered up the papers and was offering them 
 to another passer. He laughed harshly. 
 He passed along Tremont Row to Tremont 
 Street, and noticed that they were usually 
 crowded. The performance was over and 
 the audience from the Museum was dispers- 
 ing. He crossed the street to the new door 
 of the theatre, and watched the people as 
 they emerged. "What merry, bright 
 faces, all happy and '' he thought with a 
 sudden fury, ''all false, false as Hell. Their 
 smiles are lies, and I I will lie too." He 
 uttered a -strange hoarse laugh that caused 
 a timid little woman who was passing, to 
 start and gaze into his face in alarm. The 
 flushed features and wild eyes of the mud- 
 bespattered man did not reassure her, and 
 she clung closer to the arm of her escort.
 
 1-24 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 A lady came from the theatre alone, and 
 hurried to a carriage that was evidently 
 awaiting her. As she entered the vehicle 
 she glanced backward, and then, with a start 
 of surprise, cried, ' ' Leo ! " 
 
 He started at the sound of his name and 
 instinctively touched his hat. Advancing 
 to see who it was that called, he grasped her 
 proffered hand and cried, "You, Tiger 
 Lily!" 
 
 "Miss Larry," she corrected him, smil- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I believe you are my friend ; you said 
 you were," he observed apathetically. 
 
 " Why, Leo, what ails you ? You are 
 soaking wet ; you look so strangely ; has 
 anything happened ? Jump into ' the car- 
 riage and tell me all about it." 
 
 Wearily Leo entered the carriage and sank 
 down upon the cushioned seat with a sigh. 
 
 " Where to, miss ? " asked the driver. 
 
 "Home, drive slowly."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 125 
 
 "Now, Leo," she said, as the carriage 
 moved along, ' ' tell me all about it. " 
 
 " There is nothing to tell," he answered. 
 "Rose is married, that is all," and he 
 laughed. 
 
 "Poor boy, poor boy!" she murmured 
 sympathetically. " I can understand now." 
 
 " Never mind me," he said, attempting to 
 rally himself. " How came you in Boston 
 to-night?" 
 
 " We are laying over here until the first 
 of the week, when we start on the circuit. 
 You are wet through, surely you ought to 
 take care of yourself." 
 
 "I don't care what becomes of me now," 
 he cried wildly. " My life is a wreck. Do 
 you know, I came near making an end of it 
 all, to-night." 
 
 "Leo!" 
 
 "Yes, in my place some men would have 
 killed themselves, but I I did more ; I 
 lived."
 
 1-26 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " Poor boy, time will cure you, but it is 
 hard. She must be heartless." 
 
 "I don't know ; she's false, though. I 
 trusted her against the world, but it seems 
 that she could not trust me against the first 
 calumny that arose in my absence, she did 
 not even try to hear my vindication. Well, I 
 shall never believe again in friendship, in 
 honesty, in in love." 
 
 The carriage stopped. " Here I am," said 
 Tiger Lily, preparing to alight. "What is 
 your address ? I will tell the driver to take 
 you home." 
 
 Leo sprang from the carriage. " Home ! " 
 he echoed, " I have none. I lived in the 
 house with her ; but now well, I can take 
 care of myself." 
 
 " Why, where are you going ? what will 
 you do ? " 
 
 " I must write something for the paper to- 
 night. I'll find some place to write in. I 
 can't sleep."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 127 
 
 " Look here, Leo, I'm not going to allow 
 you to wander about on a night like this in 
 the state of mind you are in ; it would be the 
 death of you. Come into my parlor and 
 write if you will, and perhaps Mrs. West can 
 find a room for you." 
 
 " Well," said Leo, apathetically. 
 
 She opened the door with a latch-key and 
 he followed her in. The hackman chuckled 
 maliciously as they disappeared, and, whip- 
 ping up his horses, drove from the street. 
 
 The next day Lester Ingraham called at a 
 quiet boarding-house on Bulfinch Street, in 
 answer to an urgent note, and was met by 
 Tiger Lily. 
 
 "You are his friend," she said, " and I did 
 not know who else to send for. Just look at 
 him, poor boy. " 
 
 Leo was lying upon a lounge in her private 
 parlor, asleep. His face was flushed and his 
 garments disordered. Every now and then
 
 128 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 he would move uneasily and mutter some 
 incoherent words. 
 
 "How long has he been so ? " asked Less. 
 
 She hesitated, and blushed hotly. "He 
 he came here last night and wrote for his 
 paper. He had been wandering about the 
 streets and was wet through. I left him 
 after a while, and when I came back he was 
 sleeping there. I could not disturb him, and 
 so I I allowed him to remain. He slept 
 there all night in his damp clothes, and this 
 morning I found him this way." 
 
 " We must remove him, Tiger Lily," said 
 Less, gravely. 
 
 "Not for me, Less. If he is going to be 
 ill he shall stay, and I will do what I can for 
 him. Oh, they have acted shamefully to 
 him ! That woman, who would think it a 
 disgrace to associate with me, has treated 
 him as I would not treat a dog," she said, 
 passionately. 
 
 (( Rose Maynard ? Yes, I have heard ; it's
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 129 
 
 a very strange affair. We must have a doc- 
 tor for him. " 
 
 " Will you call one, please ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'll get Farnsworth, and I'll take his 
 papers down to the Hermes office. A parable, 
 I suppose." 
 
 "He said so. Oh, Less," she cried, with 
 uncontrollable anxiety, "hurry for the doc- 
 tor." 
 
 " Tiger Lily," said Less, gravely, "has our 
 Scribe become so much to you ? " 
 
 "Yes, Less. Now go !" 
 
 
 
 In the next number of Hermes this strange 
 contribution from The Scribe appeared : 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 "My uneasiness had disappeared, and now all 
 about me seemed vagueness, and in my mind, in- 
 difference. Another had sinned, and Justice, the 
 blind goddess, seized upon me to expiate the crime. 
 
 The hour of my doom was close at hand, yet I 
 9
 
 130 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 recked little. They came, and I was led to the 
 verge of the hoary verdure-crowned cliff, rising 
 sheer from the lake in the valley. About me were 
 stern unpitying faces, but I sought no pity. I 
 thought not of what was to come, but only of the 
 beauty of nature as it lay in untrammeled grandeur 
 at my feet. Gentle breezes fanned my cheek and 
 whispered of courage, but I heeded not, I feared 
 not. The setting sun cast long rays from the 
 topmost peak of the distant mountains, over the 
 valley, silvering the waters of the lake with myr- 
 iads of sparkles, that grew paler and paler as 
 the great orb slowly sank behind the snow-clad 
 summits. Then, through the transparent waters, 
 methought I saw the gleaming domes and spires 
 of marble palaces, while faint sweet strains of 
 music music of an unearthly sweetness fell 
 upon my ears, but behind me boomed the harsh 
 clang of the great bell, sounding my knell and 
 drowning the strains. 
 
 " I was hurled from the dizzy height of the 
 cliff into the lake below. Down, down, down I 
 fell, the air rushing madly by me and the awful 
 whirl making my senses reel. I heard them 
 shout in triumph as I fell, they who had called 
 themselves my friends, and I was glad that I
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 131 
 
 was leaving forever their world, where deceit is 
 king. Then I reached the water and the deli- 
 cious coolness closed over me. I yielded to the 
 pleasure of the change and sank, without a strug- 
 gle. The last sun ray shot through the water 
 beside me, lighting up my surroundings. I 
 thought I saw shadowy forms, of beautiful mer- 
 maidens floating towards me, with outstretched 
 arms and kindly, smiling faces. I longed for 
 friendship ; all I had left behind me were false ; 
 could these be true ? I would have trusted them, 
 I think, but ere they reached my side my senses 
 fled."
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE SPOT UPON THE TIGER LILY. 
 
 " My good stars that were my former guides 
 Have empty left their orbs and shot their fires 
 Into the abysm of Hell." 
 
 SHAKSPEBE (Antony and Cleopatra).
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 135 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BOHEMIA. 
 
 "THE land of staunch comradeship, of kindly sympathy 
 
 where the primitive virtues have fled for refuge 
 
 from the shams of society and where Mrs. Grundy holds no 
 
 sway." 
 
 HABBT HAMILTON. 
 
 MONTHS passed and the sweet softness of 
 spring came again. It was at first rumored 
 that Leo had suddenly disappeared and then, 
 that he was ill. As he became convalescent 
 and was seen, now and then, walking feebly 
 about the quieter streets, people whispered, 
 with knowing nods and smiles, that he had 
 been lying at a boarding house where a 
 noted burlesque actress, who had nursed him 
 devotedly through his illness, and who com- 
 pelled her manager to find a substitute for 
 her during that time, made her home. No
 
 136 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 pains were taken to deny the story, and it 
 was forgotten as soon as a new scandal 
 arose. Every man of prominence, no mat- 
 ter how petty his prominence may be, will 
 surely have some stories circulated about 
 him relating to the low standard of his mor- 
 als, and these stories are so often without 
 foundation that it is difficult to distinguish 
 the real sinners. Appreciating this fact Leo 
 did not commit himself. Only a few of his 
 nearest friends knew just how matters stood 
 with him. When his strength was suffi- 
 ciently restored he left Boston and was lost 
 sight of by all in the city except Less, who 
 knew he was following Durrell's company as 
 a sort of hanger-on and who joined him 
 whenever he could manufacture an excuse 
 for so doing. Leo's studio remained closed 
 all winter and the only indication that his 
 acquaintances had of his being alive was 
 the regular appearance of his parables in 
 Hermes.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 137 
 
 And all this time Kose lived in a mag- 
 nificent home, provided with every comfort 
 and luxury that money could procure. By 
 every means in his power, Oliver Choate 
 strove to make her happy, prompted to do so 
 more because of the reproaches of his guilty 
 conscience than anything else, but all his 
 efforts were vain. She was like a wild bird, 
 restlessly beating its wings against the bars 
 of a gilded cage, vainly striving for the free- 
 dom it could not gain, and heedless of the 
 glitter which surrounded it. 
 
 They never spoke of Leo, avoiding the sub- 
 ject by a sort of tacit understanding ; 
 Choate, because he feared the effect of men- 
 tioning her unforgotten lover to his wife, 
 and Rose, because she did not wish to rouse 
 her husband into speaking ill of one who 
 was enshrined in her heart by a love 
 crushed, but still alive. She did not credit 
 the accusation Choate had made against Leo, 
 and felt an antagonism against her husband
 
 138 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 that she did not scruple to let him see. That he 
 could not hope for her love, Choate had known 
 from the first, but he Had felt sure of retaining 
 her respect. Even that he was not destined 
 to have. Coldness and ofttimes .sneers were 
 the only thanks he received for his Atten- 
 tions, and in many ways she made it obvious 
 to him that he was distasteful to her, that 
 she preferred other companionship to his, 
 until, at length, he went his way and she 
 hers, hardly seeing each other from one 
 week to another, and then meeting only 
 long enough to exchange a cold greeting. 
 This pleased Rose, because it left her free 
 to brood over her troubles and her fancied 
 wrongs. As for Choate, he cared not his 
 love had always been, at best, but the piti- 
 ful, disgusting passion of an almost decrepit 
 man, and it had died forever, before Rose 
 was his, killed by the pangs of conscience that 
 tormented him ceaselessly from the moment 
 of Mrs. Maynard's death. He felt himself a
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 139 
 
 murderer : do what he might, the white face 
 of the dead woman, that ghastly nuptial 
 scene, haunted him always. His words had 
 killed her, she died from his lie, and she died 
 while he wae still acting a lie to her. The 
 realization of this fact was slowly wearing 
 away his very life. He was glad of his es- 
 trangement from Rose, since the sight of her 
 called up visions of the dead ; she was the 
 fruit for which he had bartered his all, only 
 to find bitterness where he sought luscious 
 ripeness. Daily he seemed to grow more 
 feeble, and oftener and oftener he was dis- 
 turbed by visions of the dead that woke him 
 from his troubled sleep to torment him. 
 " Murderer ! " the pale lips seemed to whisper, 
 and he did not dare to pray ; he knew too 
 well that a fellow-being had died before her 
 time because of his lust. 
 
 Rose eagerly devoured the Scribe's corner 
 in Hermes every week and took advantage 
 of every means to learn any news, however
 
 140 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 meagre, of Leo. The stories that were cir- 
 culated reached her ears hut did not serve to 
 diminish her ever-increasing infatuation. 
 She heard nothing direct from him nor did 
 she know where he was. Once she met Less 
 upon the street, and he bowed distantly. She 
 was tempted to stop him and ask for news 
 of Leo, but pride made her hesitate, and 
 before she decided to speak he was gone. 
 When she reached home she was glad that 
 she had not spoken, but the incident so affect- 
 ed her that she shut herself into her room, 
 and wept. Several times thereafter she 
 thought of applying to Less for news of Leo, 
 but always controlled the desire. Thus the 
 time passed in the Choate household with 
 both master and mistress miserably un- 
 happy. 
 
 One day Less passed the familiar door in 
 the long hall of "Bohemia," that delightful
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 141 
 
 building under the roof of which are gather- 
 ed the j oiliest crowd of good fellows one can 
 well think of ; nearly all artists, their 
 studios ranged side by side ; Less passed 
 the familiar door upon which was painted, 
 "L. Ormsby, 81," and noticed it was 
 open. Uttering a shout of glad surprise 
 he rushed in, without pausing to knock, 
 and was warmly greeted by Leo and Dur- 
 rell, 
 
 "Well, well," he cried, gazing from one 
 to the other with unfeigned delight, " it 
 does a fellow's heart good to see you again. 
 Where did you spring from ? " 
 
 " Seek not to know too much," answered 
 Leo smilingly, " let it suffice that we have 
 come. How are you ? " 
 
 "I'm salubrious, but you're not looking 
 well, Leo." 
 
 "Oh, I'm all right. It's my hair I sup- 
 pose that changes me. That d d fever 
 
 last winter left me a goodly number of gray
 
 142 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 hairs as a remembrancer," and he coughed 
 dryly. 
 
 "The truth of it all is," said Durrell, 
 " that Leo won't take care of himself. We 
 cannot influence him at all ; he simply goes 
 it, all the time." 
 
 "That won't do, Leo ' began Less. 
 
 " Oh, dry up," said the object of their 
 sympathy, impatiently, ' ' I'm all right. Sit 
 down if you can find a clean spot ; such a 
 dust I never saw. Say, Less, I've finished 
 Diana." 
 
 " So I heard. Exhibited in New York. 
 Who sat for it?" 
 
 "Who do you suppose ? " laughed Durrell. 
 
 "Larry, of course," said Leo, "I had a 
 good offer for it from the Hoffman House 
 people but I won't sell my picture to a bar- 
 room art-gallery, especially one in which she 
 figures. I imagine they want it because the 
 subject shows half nude women ; but as for 
 hanging my work up as that Bogoreau is
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 143 
 
 hung, for half drunken men to leer and gloat 
 over - Bah ! You both know what Larry 
 and I are to each other, but I want it under- 
 stood that I respect her above any other 
 woman alive to-day, and that's why I refused 
 the biggest offer I ever had for a work of 
 mine, and I'm not sorry for it." 
 
 " I can appreciate your motives, Leo, "said 
 Less, " but you go a bit farther than I 
 would." 
 
 " I suppose you think me an odd stick," 
 replied Leo, " and sometimes I am unable to 
 understand myself. There is a difference in 
 my regard for Larry, I fear, from what I 
 used to feel for others. I remember how 
 uncomfortable I used to feel when I found 
 myself in company with one of those men 
 who are given to making questionable re- 
 marks and telling risque stories before ladies. 
 There is no resenting the remarks of such 
 fellows, they are too guarded for that. I was 
 inexperienced then," he continued, with a
 
 144 A MORAL SLOT. 
 
 hard laugh, ' ' and thought of my lady friends 
 with a sort of reverence and such remarks 
 seemed to me as blasphemy does to a priest. 
 Perhaps the purity of woman was a part of 
 my religion, and evidence that she has vulgar 
 traits in common with man hurt me because 
 it tended to destroy the ideal I had formed 
 of that which I have since learned does not 
 exist a perfect woman." 
 
 11 No," said Less philosophically. " A fel- 
 low should never marry, because if he gets 
 a homely girl, she will be too disagreeable an 
 object for him to gaze upon day after day, 
 and if she's handsome she'll be too agreeable 
 an object for other fellows to gaze upon. 
 Either way is wrong ; best to remain a jolly 
 bachelor, like me." 
 
 " There is such a thing as drawing a 
 prize." 
 
 " Why not trust to Providence and run 
 your chances ? " laughingly suggested Dur- 
 rell.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 145 
 
 " Providence, eh ? Say, Durrell, are you 
 religious ? " 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " That's a pretty weak answer. I'm not. 
 You just take your prayer-book in one hand 
 and your pocket-book in the other and see 
 which will go farthest in this world." 
 
 " How about the next ? " suggested Less. 
 
 " Let us have less of the threat of Hell in 
 the hereafter and a little more of it here." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Hell is the terror that holds in check the 
 evil tendencies of man. Let the laws of our 
 land be annulled for a day, can you imagine 
 what excesses would result ? That's what I 
 mean ; but dropping religion, what brings 
 you back ? " 
 
 " King Robert of Sicily," replied Leo, with 
 a dramatic wave of his arm. 
 
 " Oh, get out ! Be serious." 
 
 " I am. My play is to be produced at the 
 
 Boston, in a fortnight." 
 10
 
 140 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 ' ' You don't say so ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " It's a great piece," said Durrell,"and 
 ought to go, but wait until you see the new 
 one he is doing for me. " 
 
 11 What's the subject ? " 
 
 " The Diver," said Leo good-naturedly, 
 " after Schiller a long way." 
 
 " You'll hardly recognize King Robert 
 now," said Durrell, " since it has been re- 
 written." 
 
 "Tiger Lily takes the leading part of 
 course ? " 
 
 "Of course, and she'll make a queenly 
 king." 
 
 Leo began laughing, but was suddenly at- 
 tacked with a severe coughing spell. Less 
 regarded his friend anxiously. " Look here, 
 old man," he said solicitously, "you ought 
 to do something for that cough." 
 
 " Oh, Larry is dosing me all the time," he 
 returned lightly.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 147 
 
 " But you should see a doctor." 
 
 " Bah ! I'm not sick, and I won't have 
 a lot of nasty medicines poured into me. I'll 
 be all right in a little while. It's only an 
 obstinate cold." 
 
 " I should say it was obstinate," said Dur- 
 rell, " he's been coughing all winter." 
 
 v ' Oh, drop it," cried Leo impatiently. 
 
 " Where's Tiger Lily ?" asked Less. 
 
 " She's at Mrs. West's with Ada." 
 
 "With Ada?" 
 
 " Yes. Guida has an engagement with 
 another company and we are looking after 
 the child ; in fact, between ourselves, we 
 have adopted her." 
 
 " It's a good job for the chicken that she 
 is under the maternal wing, or I should say 
 petal, of Tiger Lily. Guida is not a model 
 mother," observed Durrell. 
 
 " What can you expect ? " said Less, with 
 a shrug of his shoulders. " A lively actress 
 can't make a good mother."
 
 148 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " I don't know about that" cried Leo, 
 " look at Larry." 
 
 ''Is she a mother?" 
 
 " To Ada, yes, and a good one." 
 
 " And Leo plays papa to perfection," 
 laughed Durrell. 
 
 " By Jove, Less, no man can have a better 
 friend than I have in Larry," cried Leo, im- 
 pulsively, " I know the world sneers and 
 looks upon our relations as wrong, let them 
 if they will, but in my presence no one shall 
 speak disparagingly of her. She has every 
 quality that goes to make up a good woman 
 and she is a good woman. There are women 
 to-day who have lied, cheated, blasphemed, 
 broken their parents' hearts, in fact, violated 
 nearly every one of God's commandments, 
 yet society overlooks their shortcomings and 
 welcomes them with open arms. There are 
 others, like my poor Larry, who are innocent 
 of all these sins, but who have disregarded 
 the seventh commandment, and these are
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 149 
 
 outcasts, beyond redemption. To them the 
 doors of society are forever closed, they are 
 beyond hope of forgiveness. No matter how 
 bitter their tears, no matter how repentant 
 they are, they will be thrust forth, back to 
 their sin, to sink deeper and deeper until they 
 are utterly lost, when a kindly word and a 
 helping hand would be their salvation. They 
 are branded with a mark worse than a felon's 
 and more indelible, by those who, perhaps, 
 are far greater sinners. And this is Justice, 
 this is Society. Bah ! " 
 
 "Write that in a parable," said Less, 
 seriously. 
 
 "Perhaps I will." 
 
 " What did you write last week ? " asked 
 Durrell, " I did not see it." 
 
 " Here it is," said Leo, tossing him a copy 
 of Hermes. 
 
 "Keadit aloud, Durrell," cried Less. 
 
 And Durrell read :
 
 150 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " ' Once there lived a very learned man. From 
 dawn till midnight he pored over his studies, 
 tirelessly seeking to increase his knowledge. 
 ' ; Knowledge is power," he said, " and I would 
 know all, to be all-powerful." Every pleasure, 
 even social intercourse with his fellows he denied 
 himself, in his lust for learning. " I know more 
 than they," he thought, " they can teach me 
 naught, therefore I'll none of their company." 
 He saw a beautiful maiden and his heart beat 
 faster in her presence, and he desired her. She 
 smiled upon him and modestly showed her pref- 
 erence for him, but just then happened strange 
 things among the stars ; and while he studied the 
 heavenly bodies he forgot earth, himself, and the 
 maid, and she passed from his life. Thus in lone- 
 liness and study, casting aside all the joys of life 
 did he pass his days until his time was come and 
 he died. 
 
 " ' Before the great judgment-seat he came and 
 the recording angel asked of him, " Who art 
 thou ? " 
 
 " ' " I am he that was most learned," he made 
 reply. 
 
 " ' Then was judgment passed upon him. 
 " Earth was made for man and filled with all that
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 151 
 
 is best for his good. For learning, you cast aside 
 everything, held yourself above your fellow-men 
 and aspired to the forbidden. You refused the 
 good it pleased the Lord to provide for you on 
 earth, therefore you are unfit for the joys of 
 Heaven. Go, sit without and take such joy from 
 thy learning as it will yield. Here is no place 
 for thee.' " 
 
 "Say, Leo what made you strike that 
 religious vein ? " 
 
 " There's very little religion in that," was 
 the reply. " There are any number of as- 
 pects to look at the question touched upon 
 in that parable form. The next number will 
 give another point of view of the same 
 thing. Here are the proofs." 
 
 "May we see ?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 Less took the proof-sheets and read aloud: 
 
 " ' A child lived in the most squalid quarter of 
 a densely populated city. Ill-treatment, misery, 
 and starvation were his lot, but still he thrived.
 
 152 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Ignorance and neglect were his tutors, and when 
 he saw the splendor of the rich, he said, " I would 
 fain live thus," nor was it envy that prompted the 
 thought, but a desire for the good things nature 
 provides for man. And as he grew to manhood 
 the desire became stronger in him, but strive as 
 he would to rise, his ignorance always held him 
 back. He saw a fair woman and he desired her 
 for his own with a pure passion, but a rich man 
 came and the woman laughed and followed him. 
 Then he grew desperate and brooded. Why 
 should he live always in misery while others were 
 happy and in the possession of plenty ? His dis- 
 content made him ill, and he wandered feebly 
 about the streets penniless, and hunger attacked 
 him, so he stole, but the officers of Justice seized 
 him and cast him into prison, and there he died. 
 
 " ' And conscious of his shortcomings he came 
 before the great Throne of God. 
 
 " ' : ' Who art thou ? " he was asked. 
 
 " < " 1 am a felon," he replied, and fell upon his 
 face. 
 
 "'And the great book of life was opened to 
 where his story was writ, and reading it, the Al- 
 mighty spake, saying, " Lo ! this man's sin hath 
 been atoned by the woe it hath worked upon his
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 153 
 
 soul. He hath not had his share of what was 
 created for man's enjoyment, therefore shall he 
 taste the joys of after-life. Let him enter the 
 Kingdom of Heaven.' " 
 
 "I suppose there's no religion in that 
 either, Leo, eh ? " queried Less, maliciously. 
 
 "Less, perhaps, than you think," was the 
 reply, "outside of the form. You know 
 religion is a subject that does not trouble 
 me much." 
 
 " I've never heard your religious views," 
 said Durrell. 
 
 "They are simple, "replied Leo. "'Love 
 thy neighbor as thyself,' is all the religion I 
 require. I find it hard to live up to that 
 precept and until I can do so it would be 
 nonsense to profess anything further." 
 
 "But you believe in a God?" 
 
 " No one can tell me more than I already 
 know and that is nothing. I do not deny 
 that there is a God. I do not know. 
 What I do know, and feel, and worship,
 
 154 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 is the loveliness of nature ; and, if there is a 
 God, in enjoying His works I feel that I 
 am praising Him, and that I am doing my 
 duty as a man." 
 
 They were interrupted by a rap at the 
 door and a newsboy entered. 
 
 "Saw you was back, Mr. Ormsby, an' 
 thought you might want papers again, sir," 
 he said, with a grin. 
 
 " All right, Tim, " said Leo, "leave them 
 as usual." 
 
 "Thank'ee, sir," said the boy, laying some 
 papers on the table and going out. 
 
 "Any news ?" asked Less, lazily, as he 
 lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "Don't see anything," replied Leo, glan- 
 cing rapidly through the columns. 
 
 " No," added Durrell, who had picked up 
 one of the papers, "not a word about the 
 company either. Hullo ! Leo, isn't this a 
 friend of yours ? I think I've heard you 
 mention the name, Oliver Choate?"
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 155 
 
 "What is it?" asked Leo, in a strained 
 tone. 
 
 "Dead," laconically replied Durrell. 
 
 Leo snatched the paper from his hands and 
 looked for himself. Yes, there it was in 
 black and white. 
 
 " Choate, Oliver. Age 63, in this city, 
 April 2 1st ; funeral Tuesday at 1 1 A. M. from 
 residence, Commonwealth Avenue." 
 
 Leo tossed the paper aside thoughtfully 
 and sank heavily into a chair. His face 
 was very pale, and Less regarded him .anx- 
 iously for a moment but, seeing that he was 
 quite self-possessed, he turned to Durrell 
 saying, 
 
 "We'd better be going now, Charlie." 
 
 "Come on then. See you later, Leo," and 
 the two men went out. 
 
 "You put your foot into it that time, 
 Durrell," said Less, when they were alone. 
 
 "Well, I didn't know," he replied, "I
 
 156 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 wouldn't have wounded Leo for the world. 
 Who the devil's Choate ?" 
 
 " He's the old duffer who married Rose, 
 Leo's girl, you know." 
 
 Durrell gave a long whistle. " And she's 
 a widow now, rich too, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And the coast's clear for Leo." 
 
 "As far as I know. There's Tiger Lily 
 though." 
 
 " She don't count ; girls of that kind never 
 do in such cases. Leo '11 drop her I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " I suppose so. Poor girl, and she's so 
 devoted to him."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 157 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 KING ROBERT OF SICILY. 
 
 " Lo, where the stage the poor, degraded stage 
 Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age." 
 
 CHARLES SPKAGUE. 
 
 ACTIVE preparations were in progress for 
 the production of Leo's play. The dead walls 
 throughout the city were covered with glar- 
 ing lithographs and little skits appeared daily 
 in the papers, telling an expectant public of 
 new glories, designed by the lavish manage- 
 ment to please their patrons. Leo had been 
 compelled to so re-write the play, that it bore 
 but little resemblance to what it was origi- 
 nally intended to be. An Amazon march, a 
 ballet festival, and numerous songs and 
 dances had been introduced, giving scope
 
 158 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 for glittering spectacular effects but necessi- 
 tating a merciless cutting and maiming of 
 the dialogue ; and even such parts as were 
 left intact, the players distorted whenever 
 there was an opportunity of introducing 
 some puerile joke. There had originally 
 been a Gilbertian quality to the lines, but 
 the changes blunted their point. Still, Dur- 
 rell and his stage manager were confident 
 that the piece would make an. instantaneous 
 success, and although Leo was annoyed at the 
 mutilation of his work he permitted it in 
 deference to the experience and superior 
 judgment of the others. Every day there 
 were rehearsals at which Durrell, his stage- 
 manager and Leo in turn, stormed and 
 swore at the stupidity of stage-hands and 
 chorus-girls. It was an uninterrupted grind, 
 drill, drill, drill, until an idea of what was ex- 
 pected of them began to pierce their density 
 and the prospect of a good first performance 
 brightened. Tiger Lily was indefatigable in
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 159 
 
 her efforts to assure the success of the play, 
 and managed to instil some of her enthu- 
 siasm into the other members of the cast. 
 Little Ada was her especial pupil, and was 
 charming as a cherub, acting and singing 
 with an intelligence and precision remark- 
 able in a child. " I must do my very best," 
 she said, " 'cause this is Leo's play." 
 
 At length the eventful Monday arrived. 
 The day before a full-dress rehearsal had 
 been held, and all that day the weaker mem- 
 bers of the cast were drilled. Leo was dressed 
 at an early hour and, after a hasty bite at 
 Clark's, turned down Mason Street to the 
 dingy stage-entrance of the theatre and be- 
 stowing a cigar upon Con, the doorkeeper, as 
 he passed, went upon the stage. It was 
 early and but few of the company were about. 
 The stage manager was busy giving some 
 final directions to the stage carpenters, and in 
 superintending the setting of the scenery for 
 the first act ; a grand cathedral interior
 
 160 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 which changed to the palace of King Eobert. 
 The gas-men were laying hose for their lights 
 and in one corner were testing a sort of a 
 magic-lantern, which reflected swiftly moving 
 clouds upon the scene. The lights were very 
 dim, and sound of hammers now and again 
 heard, as the carpenters fastened some piece 
 of scenery into place, echoed hollowly through 
 the vast barn-like building. The curtain was 
 up and a fluttering of ghostly white dra- 
 peries was visible in the auditorium, as the 
 attendants removed the cloths that cov- 
 ered the gilding and draperies in the house, 
 and protected them from dust, during the 
 day. 
 
 "What's the time, Mr. Ormsby?" asked 
 the stage manager. 
 
 " Ten minutes past seven." 
 
 " Say," he shouted to someone in the body 
 of the house, "what time do you open the 
 doors here ? " 
 
 "Seven fifteen."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 101 
 
 " Time to light up," he said, turning to the 
 gas-man. 
 
 " All right. Hillo, Bill Bill ! " 
 
 A voice from above replied, " Hullo 1 " 
 
 " Ring down the- curtain." 
 
 The gas-man went to a spot at the right of 
 the proscenium, where a number of wheels 
 projected from a marble slab set in the wall; 
 he turned some of these and with a sudden 
 flash, the lights in the auditorium burned 
 up. There was a grating sound and the 
 green curtain descended shutting the house 
 from sight. 
 
 The company was beginning to assemble, 
 chattering and laughing as they came upon 
 the stage, or made their way to the dressing- 
 rooms. Suddenly there was a loud tramp- 
 ling rush heard together with the hum of 
 many voices. " There goes the gallery," 
 said a stage hand, "the doors are open." 
 
 Leo had come early, thinking he might be 
 of some use, but found nothing to do, and
 
 162 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 stood idly looking at the contrivances about 
 him, so simple, and yet, to the uninitiated, 
 apparently complicated. He was full of ex- 
 citement but outwardly calm, save that his 
 face was flushed and his cough troubled him 
 unusually. 
 
 11 Well, Leo, will I do ?" asked a pleasant 
 voice at his side, and turning, he beheld a 
 kingly figure clad in royal purple with crown 
 and sceptre complete. The king's robe was 
 open, however, and showed, beneath, the 
 motley garb of a jester with the cap and 
 bauble thrust into the belt for convenience. 
 
 " Charming, Larry," he replied with a 
 smile. " Ah, here's Ada." 
 
 "Hullo, Leo," cried the child, running to 
 him, "I haven't seen you all day. Isn't my 
 costume nice ? " 
 
 "Very nice, little one." 
 
 " But, Leo, I s'posed angels had big wings 
 and long white robes. You see they've 
 made me different."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 163 
 
 " Well, you're a cherub, you see," he re- 
 plied, "the cherub does the acting in this 
 play and the others are only in the transfor- 
 mation." . 
 
 " They're only supers 2 " 
 
 "That's all." 
 
 " And I'm an actress ?" 
 
 " And a charming little one, at that," as- 
 sented Leo, taking the child in his arms. 
 
 "Now I want you to wish me luck in my 
 new part." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "And Tiger Lily?" 
 
 "And Tiger Lily too." 
 
 " And we both wish you luck in your new 
 play, don't we, Tiger Lily ? " 
 
 " Indeed we do, Cherub, and if it depends 
 upon us 
 
 " It'll be a go," said the child, finishing the 
 sentence. 
 
 The people who were to appear in the play 
 were 'flocking upon the stage, a motley as-
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 semblageof courtiers, ladies, soldiers, sailors, 
 priests, nuns, peasants and ballet-dancers, 
 and a perfect babel of subdued voices sounded 
 through the place. 
 
 "Say, Leo," said Ada, with an air of pro- 
 fessional concern, " How's the house? " 
 
 " I haven't looked, little one." 
 
 " Let me peep, will you?" she whispered 
 eagerly. 
 
 Leo led the child to the side of the pros- 
 cenium where, through a small opening, 
 the front of the theatre was visible. 
 
 "0-o-o-o-h!" cried Ada, as she looked 
 through, "It's packed, and there's Less in 
 the box ; look, Leo." 
 
 Leo obediently applied his eye to the 
 " peep-hole" and saw a vast, indistinct sea 
 of faces filling the building from floor to 
 ceiling. He glanced at the opposite box 
 and there, sure enough, sat Less. Mechan- 
 ically he nodded and smiled at his friend, 
 whereat little Ada laughed heartily, and,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 165 
 
 joining in her mirth, he stepped aside to 
 allow Tiger Lily to look. 
 
 The sharp burr of an electric bell echoed 
 through the theatre and a call for the orches- 
 tra was heard. The gas engineer turned a 
 few of the many stop-cocks upon the wall 
 by the prompter's desk and the lights in the 
 front of the house flashed out in full brill- 
 iancy. 
 
 "There's the call!" said Tiger Lily, as 
 she fastened King Eobert's robe, hiding the 
 jester's dress beneath. 
 
 The first strains of the overture became 
 audible, long, low chords, swelling into an 
 impressive anthem, making the call-boy's 
 summons, "All on for the first act," inaudi- 
 ble to the audience. 
 
 " Come Ada, we must go," said Tiger 
 Lily. 
 
 " Good luck go with you," said Leo, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Amen, to that, dear," replied Tiger
 
 166 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Lily, " since luck to me to-night is luck for 
 you." 
 
 Left alone, Leo felt nervous for the first 
 time. His heart beat rapidly and he felt a 
 sense of suffocation. Shaking himself im- 
 patiently he coughed and turned to examine 
 the stage. Everything was in readiness for 
 the rising of the curtain. The altar of the 
 mimic church was aglow with candles, the. 
 altar boys stood in their places, while the 
 stage manager and his assistants, in their 
 shirt-sleeves inharmonious fellows were 
 lighting incense in the chalices. The con- 
 gregation was in place, but as yet wore any- 
 thing but a devout look ; and over, opposite, 
 upon a raised dais, surrounded by sparsely 
 clad pages whose sex was very apparent, 
 sat King Eobert, who, as Leo glanced that 
 way, smiled and nodded. The overture 
 ended with a crash ; there was an expectant 
 stir in the audience ; the stage manager 
 took one last hurried survey of his work,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 167 
 
 cried, "All ready!" and stepped out of 
 sight ; the gas-man turned on his stage- 
 lights and darkened the front of the house ; 
 the company took their positions ; the 
 prompter signalled the musical director ; 
 the music began ; the chorus raised their 
 voices in a solemn anthem ; the curtain rose, 
 and the play began. 
 
 The church effect was a good one and im- 
 pressed the audience, a fact which the per- 
 formers were not slow to realize, and feel- 
 ing that their efforts were meeting with ap- 
 proval, they entered into the spirit of their 
 respective parts with renewed interest. The 
 church services end after King Robert's scorn- 
 ful defiance of the heavenly powers and the 
 altar-lights are quenched. Gradually the 
 church becomes deserted until the king, 
 asleep in his chair of state, is left alone 
 attended only by his pages. The lads dare 
 not wake him, and at first regard their posi- 
 tion as great fun, laughing, joking and
 
 168 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 singing among themselves, but night is 
 falling, the gloomy old cathedral grows 
 dark and darker, until no light is seen save 
 where the faint rays of the rising moon 
 filter through the stained glass windows. 
 The boys grow timorous, still the king 
 sleeps, and his pages determine to find a 
 light. They grope' about, starting away 
 now and then, from dark corners where the 
 shadows seem to move, or from the ghostly 
 figure of some marble saint, looming white 
 and threatening out of the darkness. One 
 lad bumps into another and both cry out in 
 terror, frightening their comrades still more, 
 and an ominous thunderclap in the appar- 
 ently clear sky completes their panic. They 
 rush from the place, closing the door, in 
 which there is a spring-lock, behind them, 
 and the king is alone, locked in the church. 
 The light streaming through the great 
 stained glass windows increases in brilliancy 
 until it seems that there is nothing between
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 169 
 
 ,it and the beholder. A cloud floats to the 
 window and reclining upon it lies a 
 dimpled cherub Ada. Then King Eobert 
 wakes to find himself a jester. The cherub 
 tells him his doom ; he laughs, defies, and 
 finally growing enraged, rushes up the altar 
 at the cherub, but the visitor is gone and 
 blackness reigns again. His rage bursts 
 forth anew. God, man or devil shall not 
 stop him, and mounting the altar, he dashes 
 a heavy candelabrum through the painted win- 
 dow and climbs out into the night while 
 thunder booms overhead and sharp light- 
 ning luridly illumines the scene. 
 
 The audience received this scene with gen- 
 erous applause, and a feeling that the play 
 was a success began to manifest itself in the 
 minds of those behind the scenes. In the 
 darkness following King Eobert's exit the 
 scene was rapidly changed to his palace, and 
 when the lights were turned up the sudden 
 change from the gloomy church to the brill-
 
 170 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 iant palace drew forth another burst of ap- 
 plause. King Eobert returns to find himself, 
 in truth, a jester, and another ruling in his 
 palace, and the act ends with his despairing 
 realization of his helplessness. 
 
 The curtain had hardly fallen before there 
 was a general rush and scramble, apparently 
 in aimless confusion, but in reality quite 
 methodical. The gorgeous palace was dis- 
 mantled with surprising rapidity and a lovely 
 Sicilian landscape replaced it. Ada, having 
 no change of costume to make, stood in the 
 wings with Leo, during the wait, chattering, 
 merrily. 
 
 The second act shows the angel king's de- 
 parture upon a pilgrimage to Rome, and the 
 festivities attending it, and principally con- 
 sists of dancing and marches. The final 
 incident is the re-appearance of the cherub 
 to King Eobert to ask, "Who art thou ? " 
 and -receive the proud reply, " I am the 
 king ! " At which, with a sorrowful smile
 
 A MOBAL SLOT. 171 
 
 she points to the magnificent galley in which 
 are gathered the angel king and his follow- 
 ing, and disappears. A crowd of jeering 
 peasants seize upon King Robert, seat him 
 backward upon an ass, and drive him upon 
 the galley, which sails away amid cheers and 
 laughter. In the third and last act King 
 Robert realizes the meaning of his punish- 
 ment, and when asked again by the cherub, 
 "Who art thou?" replies humbly, "Thou 
 knowest best. " Upon which his rightful place 
 is restored to him, and the play ends with a 
 gorgeous transformation, showing the cherub 
 ascending through tier on tier of clouds, by 
 other cherubs and angels in picturesque atti- 
 tudes, to a golden gate, from which streams 
 a dazzling light. 
 
 The audience was demonstrative, and there 
 was a recall after each act. At the end, in 
 answer to a storm of applause, the curtain 
 was again raised and Tiger Lily and Ada 
 stepped forward bowing, for upon them the
 
 172 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 evening's chief success had fallen. Tiger Lily 
 whispered something to Ada, and the child, 
 comprehending instantly, darted to the wings 
 where Leo was standing, and seizing one of 
 his hands in both of hers, pulled lustily. So 
 unexpected was this action that, before he 
 was quite aware of its drift, Leo was in the 
 glare of the footlights, looking through the 
 tremulous curtain of heat that rose from 
 them, at the noisy multitude in front, and 
 bowing his thanks. The curtain fell again 
 and the stage hands began to clear up, pre- 
 paratory to going home. In a few moments 
 the curtain was again raised, disclosing the 
 deserted theatre in darkness once more, and 
 the company began leaving, one by one. 
 What had a few moments before been bril- 
 liant with light and beauty was now a vast 
 dark place, smelling of burned gas, the gloom 
 broken only here and there by the light of a 
 sickly wire-covered gas jet. 
 
 'Well it's a go, Leo, my boy," cried Dur-
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 173 
 
 rell as he came upon the stage by the little 
 private door, near the gas table. 
 
 " Do you think so ?" 
 
 " I know it ; look at the reception it had." 
 
 " The papers will tell to-morrow." 
 
 " Devil take the papers ! The piece will go 
 no matter what they say. I'm so satisfied 
 of that, that I'm going to book it for the 
 whole of next season. There's a barrel of 
 money in it." 
 
 " I am thinking of the literary rank it 
 will take," said Leo. 
 
 " That's all bosh, Leo, don't bother your 
 head about rank. Look at H t, he has no 
 literary rank, but he makes money. Take 
 my advice and write a few things that will 
 make money for your manager, and then you 
 can get anything you please staged other- 
 wise no one will bother with you. You've 
 got a start now, make the most of it." 
 
 " Thanks to you, old man, for that start," 
 said Leo warmly, grasping Durrell's hand
 
 174 A MORAL SLOT. 
 
 "but you don't understand my aims, I 
 think." 
 
 ''Perhaps not," returned Durrell with a 
 shrug, ' ' you poets are a queer lot, anyhow, 
 and hanged if I believe you understand your- 
 selves half the time." 
 
 "Are you coming with us, Leo?" asked 
 Tiger Lily, as she emerged from the dressing- 
 rooms with Ada, clad for the street. 
 
 Leo coughed. " I think I will, Larry," he 
 answered, "my cough is troublesome to- 
 night and perhaps I'd better not hang around 
 with the boys ; still, to-night is ' and he 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Go on, Leo," urged Durrell, kindly, 
 " you're not fit to knock about to-night. Go 
 home and nurse yourself, and I'll see that 
 they all drink to your success." 
 
 "All right, and say, Durrell, invite them 
 to join me to-morrow night, after the show 
 at Ober's for a little supper, will you ? Boys 
 and girls both."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 175 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " All right. Good-night." 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 The next morning Less called upon Leo at 
 an early hour to congratulate him upon the 
 successful production of his play. He found 
 him with the morning papers scattered all 
 about him. "Hullo!" he cried cheerily, 
 "looking up the criticisms? How are 
 they?" 
 
 "They all commend the scenery, the acting 
 and the production in general ; there is little 
 said about the play, " was the bitter reply. 
 
 " Because it was a success, I suppose." 
 
 " Success ! Why, anything put on with 
 the gorgeousness Durrell has mounted it 
 with, would succeed, but I had some idea 
 that my work was a little above the ordi- 
 nary burlesque. In fact, I know it was, 
 before they tampered with it, but well, my
 
 176 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 eyes are opened ; it is a failure as far as I am 
 concerned." 
 
 "Oh, bosh!" 
 
 ' ' Listen to this, " and he read from one of 
 the papers : 
 
 " ' The play is founded upon Longfellow's well- 
 known " Tale of a Way-side Inn," and is a good 
 vehicle for the display of the company's talents. 
 It is after the style of all burlesques, perhaps bet- 
 ter written than the average, with brilliant lines 
 here and there, but there is nothing in it destined 
 to outlive the local celebrity it may gain.' 
 
 " Does that sound like success ?" 
 
 "My dear boy," cried Less, " that is only 
 the opinion of one young man." 
 
 " Here are half a dozen more to uphold 
 his opinion," answered Leo, indicating the 
 papers. 
 
 "Wait and see the crowded houses it will 
 draw. That is the true test." 
 
 " The crowd is attracted by the glitter 
 and dancing, not by the literary merit of
 
 A MORAL BLOT 177 
 
 the play. Durrell might as well have a 
 mess of 'rot' like ' Adonis'; it would draw 
 as well." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! you are too nice altogether ; 
 they don't find fault with your play," cried 
 Less. 
 
 "There's a difference between fault-find- 
 ing and criticism," replied Leo, " they simply 
 pass over the play, as if it were too trivial to 
 notice at length. Have you seen the morn- 
 ing A r ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Read it, there is the opinion of a man 
 whose praise would, to me, outweigh the 
 censure of every other critic in the city," 
 and Leo handed him the paper. Less read 
 rapidly : 
 
 "The announcement of a play, or burlesque, 
 from the pen of " The Scribe " of Hermes, drew 
 us to the Boston Theatre in the expectation of a 
 treat. We regret to chronicle our disappointment. 
 
 The piece is called * King Robert of Sicily,' 
 12
 
 178 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 and follows closely the story of Longfellow's 
 poem. Hud the writer omitted the burlesque 
 features of his work, it would have been far more 
 artistic. As it is, there are some parts worthy 
 of a word of praise, notably the first scene, but 
 as a whole, the action drags, being overburdened 
 with songs, dances, marches, and the usual in- 
 cidents of burlesque. There are many traces of 
 'cuts' in the dialogue, but whether these cuts 
 are made because of the dulness of the text or 
 to introduce ' specialties,' is hard to say. Al- 
 together, the piece resembles what it was in- 
 tended to be in about the degree that a tack-ham- 
 mer resembles a battle-axe. After he has given 
 us so many readable parables im Hermes, 'The 
 Scribe ' should hesitate before presenting a work 
 so far below his proven ability." 
 
 "That's too bad," cried Less, dropping 
 the paper, " it's unjustly severe and charac- 
 teristic of C 's criticisms." 
 
 "No, I think not," said Leo. "When 
 Durrell first proposed to produce the play, I 
 objected to the alterations and to making a 
 * leg show ' of it. After my illness I didn't
 
 A MORAL BLCT. 179 
 
 care, and let them do as they pleased. The 
 alterations may have secured the financial 
 success of the work, but they denuded it of 
 all literary value. I was conscious at first 
 that this would be the case, but in the bustle 
 of preparation I forgot and now 
 
 "Never mind, Leo," said Less, encourag- 
 ingly, ' ' you can make it up on the new play. " 
 
 " 'The Diver/ yes, it is nearly completed, 
 and I will make it prove what it will 
 prove," and he laughed. 
 
 "We shall all look forward to it," cried 
 Less, cheerfully, " and now I must be going." 
 
 "You'll join us at Ober's, to-night ?" 
 
 " Oh, I'll be on hand, just say supper and 
 I'm there ; but you ought to swear off, old 
 man, until you get rid of that cough." 
 
 ' ' I mean to. This is to be my last supper. " 
 
 "Until you are better." 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Well, once more, good-morning." 
 
 " Good-morning."
 
 180 A MOUAL JJLOT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TWO WOMEN. 
 
 " Who hath not found himself surprised into revenge or 
 action, or passion for good or evil, whereof the seeds lay 
 within him, latent and unsuspected, until the occasion 
 called them forth." 
 
 " THIS is Mr. Ormsby's settin'-room, 
 Miss," said the maid at Mrs. West's as she 
 ushered a heavily-veiled lady, attired in 
 deep mourning, into Leo's study, "he'll be 
 in soon." 
 
 "Very well, I will wait," replied the lady. 
 
 "Shall I tell Miss Varney you are here?" 
 
 "No! "cried the visitor, turning fiercely 
 upon the girl. "I wish to see Mr. Ormsby 
 alone," she continued in a gentler tone, 
 
 upon a private matter." 
 
 "Yes'm," said the girl, "j'u send him to 
 
 . .
 
 A MORAL BLO'f. 
 
 you as soon as he comes," and she quietly left 
 the room. 
 
 The visitor looked curiously about, ex- 
 amining the contents of the room with much 
 interest. Seating herself at a large writing- 
 table she began turning over the confused 
 heaps of manuscript lying thereon, now and 
 then reading a few lines. A heavy sigh 
 escaped her, and she murmured, " Parables 
 and parables. Poor Leo, always recording 
 his experiences thus. It brings him celeb- 
 rity ; the inestimable advantage of being 
 known to those who do not know us," and 
 she smiled faintly. 
 
 "Are you waiting for Leo?" suddenly 
 asked a childish voice. 
 
 Rose started and turning, saw Ada 
 standing by her side. " How you startled 
 me, child, " she exclaimed with a sigh. ' ' Are 
 you a fairy, that you come so noiselessly ? " 
 
 "No, but Leo sometimes calls me cherub." 
 
 " Indeed, and who are you ? "
 
 182 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "You mean really ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' I'm Ada, I'm the cherub in ( King Robert, ' 
 you know." 
 
 ' ' Oh, you are the little child they speak 
 of?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Ada in a business-like tone. 
 ' ' I made a hit and got a lot of good notices 
 in the papers." 
 
 " Come here and talk to me." 
 
 "I haven't much time," replied Ada, 
 ' ' Tiger Lily is waiting for me. " 
 
 "And who is Tiger Lily ? " 
 
 ' ' Why, aren't you acquainted with her ? 
 She's our leading lady. Leo calls her Larry. " 
 
 " Oh, that woman !" exclaimed Rose in a 
 tone of contempt. 
 
 "Guess I can't stay, long's you speak of 
 Tiger Lily like that," said Ada, promptly, 
 and she marched towards the door with a 
 dignified air. 
 
 " Oh, you mistake me," cried Rose hastily,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 183 
 
 "I meant nothing. Do come and talk to 
 me." 
 
 Ada turned and, after a careful scrutiny of 
 Rose, observed gravely, "I haven't made up 
 my mind whether I shall like you or not. 
 Why don't you uncover your face ? " 
 
 Rose smiled and raised her veil. 
 
 " A-re you a friend, of Leo's ? " asked Ada. 
 
 " Yes, we are very old friends." 
 
 " What's your name ? " 
 
 "Rose." 
 
 " I never heard him speak about you." 
 
 Rose winced. ' ' We had a misunderstand- 
 ing," she said. 
 
 " Oh, I see ; and you came to make up." 
 
 Rose blushed, "To to explain,. perhaps." 
 
 "It's all the same." 
 
 " Is my catechism over ? " asked Rose, with 
 a feeling of angry amusement. 
 
 Ada ignored the question entirely ; she waS 
 still studying Leo's visitor. 
 
 "You're in mourning," she observed.
 
 184 A MORAL 3LOT. 
 
 " Yes, for my husband." 
 
 " Ah, I know now ? " ejaculated Ada. 
 
 " What do you know ! " 
 
 "Say, was your husband an old duffer ? " 
 
 Eose started and eyed Ada intently, but 
 perceiving that her strange question was 
 asked seriously and in perfect innocence, and 
 being anxious to learn what she could from 
 the child she answered, "He was my senior. 
 Why do you ask ? " 
 
 "Then you're the one." 
 
 "What do you mean, child ! " 
 
 " Less said a girl threw Leo over for an 
 old duffer, and he's been a different fellow 
 since. Your husband's dead, and now you 
 want to make up with Leo, that's it ! " cried 
 Ada, triumphantly. 
 
 Eose blushed hotly. "Hush, child, hush, 
 you should not speak of things of which you 
 know nothing." 
 
 "But I do know," insisted the child. 
 "You're so red it shows I do. It's no use,
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 185 
 
 though ; Less said you wasn't in it. Tiger 
 Lily stands first show, I heard him tell Dur- 
 rell." 
 
 ' You don't know what you are saying, 
 child," gasped Kose. 
 
 " Don't I, though ? Tiger Lily an' Leo 've 
 adopted me, and I ought to know." 
 
 "Are are they married ?" queried Eose 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I don't know. If I did, I wouldn't tell. 
 I don't like you." 
 
 "Ada, Ada ! " called a musical voice with- 
 out, and in a moment the door opened and 
 Tiger Lily entered. "I beg your pardon," 
 she said as she caught sight of Rose, "I did 
 not know that Mr. Ormsby had callers. 
 Come, Ada." 
 
 " She's waiting for Leo," said the child, 
 pointing to Rose. 
 
 " I am sorry Mr. Ormsby is not in," said 
 Tiger Lily, pleasantly. " Can I do anything 
 for you ? "
 
 186 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " Do you manage his affairs ? " asked Rose, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 Tiger Lily blushed. " I often assist him 
 with his writing," she answered. 
 
 " Tiger Lily," whispered Ada, audibly, tug- 
 ging at her dress, " do you know her 2 " 
 
 "No, dear." 
 
 " I do. She's the one who threw Leo over 
 for the old duffer. She wants to make 
 up." 
 
 The actress started and turned pale. Rose 
 laughed unpleasantly. " My very original 
 identification by that precocious child does 
 not seem to please you," she observed. 
 
 "It startled me," admitted Tiger Lily, 
 faintly. 
 
 " Will you permit me to ask a delicate 
 question ? " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Are you married ? " 
 
 "She asked me that," cried Ada, " and I 
 wouldn't tell her."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 187 
 
 Tiger Lily sank into a chair, and every 
 vestige of color left her face. 
 
 Rose seemed to gloat over the suffering of 
 her rival as she stood before her, smiling 
 mockingly. 
 
 " Hush, Ada," whispered Tiger Lily, then, 
 turning to Rose she said huskily, "lam not." 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 " Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Simply out of curiosity. I have heard 
 that about you which makes me think you 
 should be," replied Rose, insolently. 
 
 " Let me judge of that, if you please." 
 
 "Certainly, Miss er Tiger Lily." 
 
 "Miss Varney, if you please." 
 
 "Ah, yes, Varney. And Mr. Ormsby has 
 been one of your followers since I saw him 
 last, I suppose ? " 
 
 " On the night you told him of your mar- 
 riage, I found him wandering about the 
 streets, dazed by the shock of suddenly real- 
 izing your duplicity, " said Tiger Lily rising
 
 188 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 from her chair with dignity ; she spoke hotly, 
 but realizing that she was moved, controlled 
 herself. ' ' I nursed him through a terrible 
 fever which left him a gray-haired wreck of 
 his former self, and you, madam, are wholly 
 and entirely to blame for it. You affect to 
 sneer at me because I choose to live with him 
 without our having been wedded, but you 
 have no .moral right to do so, for you sold 
 yourself in marriage to an old man whom 
 you could not love, while I give myself to the 
 man I love, asking nothing in return." 
 
 " At least," sneered Rose, "I am an honest 
 woman. " 
 
 "Not at heart." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked Rose 
 wrathfully. 
 
 "Ask yourself," quietly returned Tiger 
 Lily. 
 
 " You are indulging this child in a rare 
 treat by allowing her to hear this edifying 
 conversation," said Rose, shifting to another
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 189 
 
 point of attack in order to cover her weak- 
 ness. "Is this your method of educating 
 her?" 
 
 "You began the conversation and for what 
 she has heard you are to blame," retorted the 
 actress, "Ada, please go up-stairs." 
 
 "All right," said the child, "but if you 
 want me, just call," then, -as she left the 
 room, she pointed to Rose and cried vehe- 
 mently, "I hate her." 
 
 " You will try to prevent my having an 
 interview with Leo, I suppose ? " said Rose, 
 defiantly. 
 
 " I shall do nothing of the kind," was the 
 calmly spoken reply. 
 
 " Do not be too sure of your power over 
 him." 
 
 "lam not." 
 
 ' ' I mean to try to induce him to abandon 
 the life he is leading," said Rose, trying to 
 rouse her rival again. 
 
 " I shall be glad if you can do so."
 
 190 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 1 ' Then you are tired of him already 1 " 
 cried Rose with a look of disgust. 
 
 "What a narrow mind you have!" ex- 
 claimed Tiger Lily, contemptuously, "I do 
 not believe you are capable of feeling true 
 love. You look at everything from a selfish 
 standpoint. Can you not appreciate the fact 
 that I wish you success because it is for 
 his good ?" 
 
 " How noble ! " sneered Rose. "Are there 
 many women of your stamp who harbor 
 such sentiments, or are you merely reciting 
 for my benefit some of the mock heroics 
 of the stage ? " 
 
 " I am learning to think less of you with 
 every word you speak, and God knows my 
 opinion was poor enough from the first," said 
 Tiger Lily bitterly. 
 
 " Your opinion, " echoed Rose scornfully ; 
 "do you think I would turn my hand to 
 alter in any way the opinion a shameless, 
 abandoned woman might have of me ? "
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 191 
 
 "Rose!" exclaimed a familiar voice, 
 sternly, as the door of the room opened, and 
 Leo stood between the excited women. 
 
 "Leo!" cried Rose, taken aback by his 
 sudden appearance, then, as she looked well 
 at him, " Good Heavens ! you are ill. Why 
 why Leo ! your hair " 
 
 "Do not trouble about my appearance, 
 Mrs. Choate, " said Leo coldly. ' ' To what do 
 I owe the honor of this visit ? " 
 
 Rose controlled the alarm caused by the 
 sudden and unexpected sight of his changed 
 appearance, and with a sinking at heart, 
 caused by his cold manner, replied, tremu- 
 lously, "I came to see you to explain, and 
 this woman 
 
 "This lady is my best friend. I will not 
 hear one word against her," he interrupted. 
 " As for your explanation, it is unnecessary. 
 I understand all the circumstances, and my 
 sufferings are past, forgotten, and their cause 
 forgiven."
 
 192 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Rose was taken aback ; this was hardly 
 the reception she had looked for, and she felt 
 at a loss for words to express herself fitly, 
 still she blundered on, with a fierce determi- 
 nation to follow things to the end, but con- 
 scious that she was at a disadvantage. In 
 an agitated voice she cried, " You are looking 
 badly, Leo ; you are pale, ill. The life you are 
 leading is killing you. I entreat you return 
 to your old friends, your old life." 
 
 " My present friends satisfy me." . 
 
 " And they will kill you," she cried vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 "My old friends have nearly done that," 
 he retorted cuttingly. 
 
 "Leo, that is cruel," said Eose, with a 
 little sob. 
 
 " We can both be cruel, Rose." 
 
 " Can my words have lost all weight with 
 you ? " she murmured. 
 
 "All. You forfeited my esteem when 
 you married, Larry here has it all now."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 193 
 
 "And you dare to say that tome?" she 
 cried angrily. " Do you know what people 
 say of you." 
 
 " Disdain is the weapon with which to 
 crush calumny," he answered calmly. 
 
 " Calumny ? " repeated Rose, with ironical 
 wonder. 
 
 ' ' All scandal is calumny. It hears but one 
 side. " 
 
 " I do not wish to hear your excuses," said 
 Eose, contemptuously. 
 
 "I have none to offer. I am no hypocrite, 
 even though hypocrisy is a fashionable vice, 
 and fashionable vices pass for virtues." 
 
 "You are not the Leo I once knew," said 
 Eose, with a sorrowful shake of her head. 
 " Had I thought of you like this I should not 
 have come here. I will go." 
 
 "One moment," said Leo, "you asked me 
 to return to my old friends, thus signifying 
 your willingness to accept me as a friend 
 again. Do you mean it ? " 
 
 lo
 
 194 A MO UAL BLOT. 
 
 " Indeed I do,'' cried Rose eagerly. 
 
 "And will you also accept Larry as a 
 friend ? '' 
 
 "No, never," she answered haughtily. 
 ' Why not ? " 
 
 " Can you ask why I will not accept an 
 abandoned woman as a friend ? " 
 
 " You will accept me ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' Where is the distinction ? I am no 
 better than she is ; I am her partner in crime, 
 if there be a crime, and you you who look 
 down upon her, are a woman whose beauty 
 was bought for so much coin by a lecherous 
 old man who cloaked your sin and his with 
 an impious marriage- vow. " 
 
 ' ' You insult me, sir ! " 
 
 "I speak the truth." 
 
 "I came here," said Eose tremulously, 
 " actuated by the friendliest motives, intend- 
 ing, if I could, to do you a service. I am 
 received with insults and confronted with
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 195 
 
 your mistress. After such a scene it is best 
 we should see nothing more of each other, " 
 and she moved towards the door. 
 
 Leo barred the way. "Stop!" he cried, 
 1 ' You must hear me before you go ; you 
 have pointed out an error which I wish to 
 rectify in your presence. Larry, dear," he 
 continued, turning to Tiger Lily, "I have 
 neglected my duty too long already, but it is 
 not yet too late. Will you be my wife ? " 
 
 "Leo!" exclaimed both women simulta- 
 neously, but in very different tones. 
 
 " I mean it, dear, in downright earnest." 
 
 Tiger Lily crept into Leo's arms, while a 
 film of tears dimmed her sight, and Rose 
 abruptly left the room. 
 
 " No, Leo," she replied, after a moment's 
 pause, "I will not marry you." 
 
 " Why not ? " he asked in surprise. 
 
 "Because because I love you," she an- 
 swered, with a sob. 
 
 " A strange reason."
 
 196 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " But a good one, dear," she said, drying 
 her eyes. " I am not fit to be your wife. I 
 am all she said I was, and since I cannot 
 bring a spotless name to link with yours, why 
 we shall continue as we are, and there's 
 an end. Now don't argue, for you can't 
 move me." 
 
 "But " 
 
 " Silence, dear," and she kissed his lips. 
 
 " You cannot silence me on this point." 
 
 "And you cannot alter my firm determi- 
 nation." 
 
 " Listen to reason, Larry," he cried petu- 
 lantly. 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense, Leo," she retorted 
 with a smile. "I only read the other day 
 that marriage is one long quarrel." 
 
 "But our marriage will not be so." 
 
 "No, because we never will be married. 
 We are happy now ; let well enough alone. 
 If people talk, let them ; I don't care. For 
 you I would bear the taunts of all the world
 
 A MORAL SLOT. 197 
 
 and smile, knowing you approved, and if I 
 do not complain, why should you ? It is 
 against me their innuendoes are aimed." 
 
 " I know it, my girl," cried Leo, " and that 
 is why I wish to fight them down. I feel for 
 you even as you do for me, and since it is in my 
 power to right you, why do you oppose me ? " 
 
 ' ' Because it is not in your power. If you 
 made me your wife it would only bind our 
 names indissolubly together, but it would not 
 blot out my past ; that past would besmirch 
 your name while now it cannot harm you. 
 Leo dear, I am right, I know I am ; do not 
 let us speak of this again." 
 
 "But I am not satisfied, Larry. If you 
 have burdens to bear why can I not share 
 them ? " 
 
 " Because your so doing would not lighten 
 my load, and would add, oh, so much ! to 
 your own." 
 
 Leo sighed heavily, and leaned his head 
 upon his hand. " You are a good woman,
 
 198 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 Larry," lie said at last. "If only Eose and 
 the rest of her kind were like you, then 
 
 ' Never mind my praises, Leo dear, " said 
 Tiger Lily, smilingly, " I must go and see if 
 Ada understands about that cut in her lines." 
 
 "She understands." 
 
 " If she does, I'll return very soon." 
 
 Left alone Leo drew a chair to the table 
 and wrote rapidly. After completing a short 
 manuscript, he began a note to the editor of 
 Hermes, requesting him to publish the par- 
 able enclosed, at once, putting aside all others 
 for it. Before he had finished Tiger Lily re- 
 turned and, seeing him at work, looked over 
 his shoulder and read the note. 
 
 "What parable is that, Leo?" she asked. 
 " Something new ? " 
 
 Yes, one I have just written, listen," 
 and he read aloud, with much vehemence, 
 flushing wrathfully as he emitted his words: 
 
 " And Dante led me through those awful depths 
 that Virgil opened to his gaze.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 199 
 
 " And two there were we came upon ; women, 
 who walked hand in hand ; the one shrinking from 
 her companion with looks of loathing and disgust, 
 which were returned with a glance of shamed 
 appealing. 
 
 " ' "Who art thou ? ' asked the poet. 
 
 " ' I,' made answer the haughty one, ' am one 
 who lived purely and held myself far above 
 those of my sisters who had fallen victims to the 
 wiles of evil. ' Yea, I closed my doors upon them, 
 shutting them out with revilings, as unclean, when 
 perhaps a kindly word might have turned them 
 back to righteousness. Ah, woe is me, I am a 
 sinner ! ' 
 
 " ' And thou ? ' asked the poet of her companion. 
 
 " ' I, alas,' she replied, ' am one of the fallen, 
 despised, and cast forth by her, to sink to the 
 lowest. I sinned and repented, but when she 
 drove me forth from her door, I recked no more 
 of right or wrong, but yielding to the first tempta- 
 tion, sinned again ; so my repentance availed me 
 nothing. And she sinned as grievously as I, when 
 she turned from my tears of penitence, but in her 
 haughtiness she knew not of her sinning, where- 
 fore is she even as I. Now are we both fated to 
 walk forever, hand in hand, until our sins be
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 atoned, she, in her pride with the courtesan, she 
 would not lift from shame, and I with one who 
 holds herself above me and looks down upon me 
 with contempt.' 
 
 "And in their misery they went upon their 
 way." 
 
 ' ' Oh, don't publish it, Leo, " said Tiger Lily. 
 
 " But I will," he replied doggedly, sealing 
 the note, "we shall see if she is coming 
 here to ride the high horse over you. By 
 Heavens " a terribly severe fit of cough- 
 ing interrupted him ; his face grew purple 
 and he clutched his side painfully. Tiger 
 Lily was alarmed and hastened for a glass of 
 water. She returned to find him completely 
 exhausted, too weak to. cough more, yet 
 irritated by the inclination to do so. Grad- 
 ually the spell passed and with some difficulty 
 Tiger Lily persuaded him to lie down for a 
 while, and soothed by her gentle ministra- 
 tions, he fell asleep.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 201 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A MIDNIGHT SUPPER. 
 
 " Come fill the cup, and in the fire of Spring, 
 Tour Winter-garment of repentance fling; 
 The Bird of Time has but a little way 
 To flutter and the Bird is on the wing." 
 
 RUBAIYAT OP OMAR KHAYYAM. 
 
 AFTER the second performance of " King 
 Robert of Sicily " (on the evening of the day 
 that Rose called upon Leo), a merry company 
 began to assemble, at Leo's invitation, in one 
 of the larger private dining-rooms at Ober's. 
 A babble of voices filled the room,and, to one 
 first entering, it seemed as if everybody was 
 talking and laughing at once. Leo, looking 
 very ill and feeling miserable, although he 
 would not admit it, greeted each comer with 
 a kindly word of welcome, laughing away
 
 202 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 remarks about his pallor, and doing his best 
 to play the host when he obviously should 
 have been at home and under a doctor's care. 
 One by one the guests arrived, until all but 
 Tiger Lily and Ada, who were delayed at the 
 theatre, were present. 
 
 Less rapped upon the table. "Ladies and 
 gentlemen," he began. 
 
 "Hear, hear!" cried Durrell, applauding 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 Less gravely bowed and continued. "We 
 are assembled here this evening at the invita- 
 tion of our honored and distinguished friend. 
 Mr. Leo Ormsby, to to what for, Leo ? " 
 he asked in a very audible aside. 
 
 " To eat supper," replied Leo, gayly, "fall 
 to, everybody, while Less is talking, and let 
 him amuse us while we eat." 
 
 " Not much," cried Less ; " if there's any 
 talking to be done I'm quite ready to talk, 
 but I never talk and eat at the same time, 
 it's bad manners. To quote the Bard of
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 203 
 
 Avon that gentleman who was the primary 
 cause of so many of our gifted fellow men 
 and women counting railroad ties for many, 
 many weary miles I would say, ' Not that 
 I love talking less, but I love eating more ! " 
 
 "Where's your manners, Less ? " called a 
 childish voice from the doorway as Tiger 
 Lily and Ada entered, followed by a bedrag- 
 gled little ragamuffin whose countenance 
 had almost lost human semblance beneath 
 the mask of dirt that covered it. " Why 
 don't you wait for us ? " 
 
 "Pardon, high and mighty Princess 
 Cherub, " cried Less, ' ' Your slave was wrong, 
 but what imp of darkness hath followed in 
 your track ? Let me call the warders and 
 send him to the realms below. What, Ho ! " 
 
 "Shut up, Less," said Tiger Lily, who had 
 removed her wraps and was doing a like 
 service for Ada, "I found the little urchin 
 asleep in a doorway, and Ada insisted that 
 we must bring him along to give him a bite."
 
 204 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "Interesting specimen," murmured Less, 
 gazing admiringly at the urchin. "What's 
 the species, Bogtrotter or Dirt-Eater of the 
 Orinoco ? " 
 
 ' ' Conundrum, " volunteered Durrell. 
 
 "Just take a cursory survey of it," con- 
 tinued Less. 
 
 "Damn it, yes," said Leo. 
 
 "It's too bad to receive my guest so," 
 laughed Tiger Lily, " Are you hungry, little 
 fellow ? " she asked kindly. 
 
 " You bet I am," was the prompt answer. 
 
 " Give him something, Less, please," she 
 said. 
 
 Less filled a plate from the table and 
 carried it to a corner. The child followed 
 him hungrily. "Now," said Less, "you 
 shall have this plate if you'll tell me which 
 of us will have the most hair on our heads 
 when we're a hundred years old." 
 
 " Let him alone, Less," said Durrell. 
 
 The little street-arab looked up at Less
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 205 
 
 with an impudent wag of his head and said, 
 ' ' Youse'll have de mos' cheek : Ye lets de hair 
 grow on yer lip ter give yer chin a chance. " 
 
 Less gave him the plate and retired igno- 
 miniously. 
 
 " Say," said Ada to the boy, "haven't you 
 got a home ? " 
 
 He nodded an affirmative with his mouth 
 full. 
 
 "Why don't you go there, then ?" 
 
 " Like dis better." 
 
 " Strange child," murmured Less. 
 
 " Say, ask de boss kin I have some more 
 grub." 
 
 Ada saw that he was provided, and con- 
 tinued her questioning. 
 
 " Have you got a father ?" 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 " Don't he feed you ?" 
 
 " Not much. He's doin' time down duck, 
 fer a drunk." 
 
 "And your mother ? "
 
 206 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " She's out now, but she's lay in low. Dey 
 tole her she's wanted agin, but I guess it's a 
 bluff." 
 
 " If you got any money would you give it 
 to her ? " 
 
 ' ' See any green in my eye ? " 
 
 " What would you do with it ? " 
 
 " Dunno. If I had 'bout forty cents I'd 
 go inter business." 
 
 " What business ?" 
 
 "Papers. Sell 'em on de street, an' if ye 
 git stuck strike de blokes dats comin' outen 
 de teayter wid ladies." 
 
 "A pity all that business ability should go 
 to waste for want of a little capital," ob- 
 served Less, regretfully. 
 
 " Why don't you go in with him, as silent 
 partner, Less ? " said Leo. 
 
 " Never thought of it. If my money 
 wasn't all tied up in railroads now " 
 
 "If you had a business," asked Ada, 
 "would you have to sleep in doorways ? "
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 207 
 
 " No, siree. I cud go in de newsboys' lod- 
 gin'-house. Dat's a prime place." 
 
 " Tiger Lily," said Ada, turning to her 
 friend, "set him up, please." 
 
 " Take a hat and pass it round for him," 
 said Tiger Lily. ' ' Here, I'll start it, " and she 
 shook some loose-change from her pocket- 
 book. Ada was not slow to take the hint, 
 and a great rattling of coins accompanied 
 her tour of the room. 
 
 "Here, little boy," she said patronizingly, 
 as she poured her collection into his grimy 
 hands, " now you can go into business, but 
 you must promise me one thing." 
 
 " I'll do it," cried the little imp, his eyes 
 fairly glowing with gratitude. "See if I 
 don't. Wat yer want ? " 
 
 "I want you to wash your face and 
 hands," said Ada solemnly. 
 
 "But for Heaven's sake," added Less, 
 anxiously, "do it gradually. No one can
 
 208 .-I xonAL BLOT. 
 
 tell what danger you might run into by a too 
 sudden exposure of the epidermis." 
 
 "And now Ada," said Tiger Lily, "let 
 the waiter show the little fellow 'out and 
 come here to the table." 
 
 11 Good-night," said Ada to the departing 
 urchin. 
 
 "Good-night," he replied, turning back 
 in the doorway. "Say, youse is a reg'lar 
 gang o' bricks," and he was gone. 
 
 "Here's to Leo," said Less, raising a 
 brimming wine-glass, " with the old senti- 
 ment, ' The pen is mightier than the sword. ' ' 
 
 "And a woman's tongue than either," 
 added Durrell. 
 
 "No toasts, no speeches, no formality," 
 said Leo, "suppose you tell us a story, 
 Less." 
 
 "Waiter, pass me some sirloin beans," 
 said Less, trying to dodge the issue. 
 
 "But the story." 
 
 "I've got one," said Durrell.
 
 A MOEAL SLOT. 209 
 
 "Fire away." 
 
 " A good many of you know little Tom 
 Peterson, the critic of the Star a little bit 
 of a man " 
 
 ' ' I know, " interrupted Less, " small man. 
 Say, Durrell, did you ever notice small men 
 are mean ? ' 
 
 "Oh, dry up. Peterson is a nice enough 
 little fellow, but he takes offence too quickly, 
 he's such a fiery tempered little chap 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Less again, "most 
 even disposition possible, mad all the 
 time." 
 
 " Look here, Less," cried Durrell, angrily, 
 " who's telling this story ? " 
 
 " We are," was the bland reply. 
 
 "Well, finish it." 
 
 "I call that cheek," exclaimed Less, with 
 mock indignation, ' ' ask me to finish it after 
 I've begun so nicely for you. I'll do my share, 
 but it's too much to ask me to do all the 
 
 work." 
 14
 
 210 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 ' ' Let him alone, Less, " cried Leo. ' ' Go on 
 Durrell." 
 
 " Well, Peterson often held forth to the 
 boys upon the charms of a young lady of his, 
 until we were all anxious to see her. Young 
 Wardwell was our treasurer at the time, 
 ' Handsome Will ' we called him, and he was 
 a perfect Adonis ; the girls all raved about 
 him, and we wanted to pit him against Peter- 
 son with the lady in question, just to have 
 a lark with the little chap, who, by the way, 
 had never met Will. One day Peterson 
 asked me for seats, ' I'm going to bring the 
 young lady to see your show to-night " he 
 told me, and I wrote out a pass for him. 
 This was just the chance we had been look- 
 ing for, and Wardwell was posted up accord- 
 ingly, and I fixed it so that he sat just near 
 enough to the couple. The girl was pretty 
 and brimful of fun, and she soon noticed 
 that Will was regarding her steadily. She 
 pretended not to see him at first, but every
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 211 
 
 now and then stole a glance in his direction 
 until a little flirtation was commenced. 
 Peterson took it all in, and was as mad as a 
 March hare. Between the acts Wardwell 
 came out and reported progress. Little Pete 
 had no idea we were putting up a job on him 
 and my, wasn't he savage! But the girl 
 rather enjoyed the fun. During the last act 
 he called an usher and whispered, ' Tell that 
 gentleman in the third row, second seat, 
 that Mr. Peterson of the Star sends his 
 compliments and begs to be favored with his 
 name.' ' That's Mr. Wardwell, Handsome 
 Will, sir' says the usher. 'Damn Hand- 
 some Will,' growls Pete, 'thank you, all 
 the same.' When the usher came out and 
 told his story we stood ready to prevent a 
 disturbance, but the boys wanted to see the 
 end of the fun, so when the show ended Will 
 was posted conspicuously in the lobby and 
 we stood about near him. Pretty soon Peter- 
 son comes along with his girl and sees Ward-
 
 212 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 well. He inarches right up to him, and, tip- 
 ping his hat politely, says, ' Mr. Wardwell, 
 I believe ? ' ' That is my name, sir. ' ' Mr. 
 Wardwell, allow me to introduce you to Miss 
 Nelly Kendrick, Miss Kendrick this is Mr. 
 Wardwell. I bid you both a very good even- 
 ing,' and with another tip of his hat he 
 marched away, leaving the girl behind. Will 
 had to see her home, of course. We were play- 
 ing in New York at one of the houses near 
 Fourteenth Street and she lived way out in 
 Harlem somewhere. The next day Will and 
 Pete had it hot and heavy, and Will swore 
 vengeance. When Peterson found out it was 
 a put-up job he tried to make up with the 
 girl, but Will wouldn't let him and, just to 
 spite Pete, married her himself ; but the little 
 fellow got the best of him that time, too, for 
 she proved to have a devil of a temper and 
 they fight like cat and dog." 
 
 "Is that the end ?" asked Less, soberly. 
 
 "Yes," snapped Durrell.
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 213 
 
 " Ah, indeed ? Good finish, excellent 
 finish," said Less, applauding faintly. "Tell 
 that last part again, will you Durrell, I 
 didn't quite catch the point." 
 
 " I can't provide you with brains, " growled 
 Durrell, who did not relish Less's banter. 
 
 "No? why not? Has your supply given 
 out ? " 
 
 " I'll engage you as a clown if you display 
 so much talent for it," said Durrell. 
 
 "Why didn't you speak sooner? I've 
 about decided to take an interest in the 
 paper business with Ada's friend." 
 
 " What makes you so quiet, Leo ?" asked 
 Ada. "You're letting Less do all the talk- 
 ing." 
 
 "He's qualified to, Cherub, isn't he ?" 
 
 " I s'pose so, but I don't like to see you so 
 quiet." 
 
 " Come, sit beside me then, little one, and 
 see if you can 'liven me up to talking point." 
 A heavy cough ended his speech . Ada moved
 
 214 A MOEAL BLOT. 
 
 to his side, chattering gayly, while he listened 
 absently, stroking the child's curls. 
 
 ' ' I don't knoAV what to do for Leo, Less, " 
 whispered Tiger Lily, '* that dreadful cough 
 hangs on to him so, and he positively refuses 
 to see a doctor or take care of himself at all. 
 He had a terrible spell this afternoon, and I 
 tried to keep him home to-night, but you 
 .know I can do nothing with him. Don't 
 you think he is looking badly ? " 
 
 ' ' He told me to-day that he was going to 
 take a good long rest as soon as you and Ada 
 could get away." 
 
 " That will be soon. ' King Eobert ' is 
 to be withdrawn in order to make some 
 further alterations, and Durrell can do with- 
 out me for the rest of the season." 
 
 "Come, Less," cried Leo, "give us that 
 story." 
 
 " Don't know one," was the prompt reply," 
 "but talk about larks, you ought to have 
 been with me this afternoon. You know that
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 215 
 
 more people pass the corner of Winter 
 and Washington Streets than any other 
 spot in the city. Well, having nothing 
 to do, I thought I would make the passers 
 amuse me, so I bought a ball of stout twine 
 and tied an end of it to a sign on the corner, 
 about three feet above the ground, and then, 
 let the ball roll gently across the sidewalk. 
 A gentleman walking up Washington Street 
 caught it on his foot and carried it up as 
 far as Ditson's. He untangled himself easily, 
 but meanwhile several other people were 
 snared, and the ball was unrolling itself 
 further all the time. A man was caught 
 about the waist, he lifted the string over his 
 head and caught a lady's bonnet. He apol- 
 ogized and tried to extricate her ; when he 
 succeeded he was hopelessly entangled again 
 himself with a knot of other people. The 
 more they struggled to free themselves the 
 worse the snarl grew, and every moment 
 some one else was caught. An important
 
 216 A MOttAL BLOT. 
 
 policeman came along and undertook to set 
 matters straight, but only succeeded in 
 adding himself to my batch of victims. I 
 thought I had seen almost enough of the 
 fun, which promised to last for some time, 
 and started up Winter Street ; but I had 
 taken only a few steps when a tug at my 
 ankle told me I too, was enmeshed. I stooped 
 to free my foot, and the passers walked the 
 string over me in half a dozen loops, and if I 
 had not promptly whipped out my penknife 
 and cut the string, I might have been strug- 
 gling there yet. " 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Durrell blandly, in im- 
 itation of Less's patronizing manner of a 
 few moments before "good finish, excellent 
 finish, excellent finish, mj'-boy." 
 
 "There now," exclaimed Less, appealing 
 to the company, "Durrell indorses my story- 
 telling but he won't indorse my notes. 
 Funny fellow, Durrell. By the way, Leo, 
 talking of notes, I received one to-night, re-
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 217 
 
 lating to you. I can't make anything out of 
 it, perhaps you may be able to, here it is," 
 and he handed the epistle to Leo. 
 
 "From a lady, I'll wager," cried Dur- 
 rell. 
 
 Leo smiled and unfolded the paper. As 
 he glanced at it he grew red and then pale, 
 frowning, as if displeased. The note read: 
 
 " MB. INGRAHAM, 
 
 " Dear Sir : 
 
 " Will you pardon my addressing 
 
 you and permit me to beg a great favor. I shall feel deeply 
 grateful if you will inform your friend, Mr. Leo Ormsby, 
 from me, that I beg of him to grant me an interview, if only 
 for a moment, before he is married. Please, please do not 
 fail to give him the message, and I will remain 
 Ever your debtor, 
 
 " ROSE CHOATE." 
 
 Leo refolded the note and returned it to 
 Less. " Bah ! " he said with a look of annoy- 
 ance, "I shall not notice it." He raised his 
 glass to his lips, but hardly tasted the wine. 
 As he replaced the glass upon the table he 
 began coughing violently. Controlling him-
 
 218 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 self with an effort lie rose, saying, " Excuse 
 me for a moment, please, the room is so op- 
 pressively warm that it irritates my cough, 
 I must have a little fresh air." 
 
 "Shall I go with you, old man?" asked 
 Less, rising. 
 
 Leo made an emphatic negative gesture 
 and left the room. They could hear him 
 coughing as he passed along the corridor 
 without, and the sound dampened their hilar- 
 ity for the moment, but Less would not let the 
 gayety flag. He was as concerned as any for 
 his friend, but he knew Leo had invited the 
 company with the intention of giving them a 
 pleasant party, and that he could best please 
 him by pleasing his guests. Tiger Lily anx- 
 iously watched the door for Leo's return, and 
 Ada, reading the concern in her face, crept 
 to her side and watched with her. The host's 
 absence was becoming noticeably protracted, 
 and Tiger Lily was growing really alarmed, 
 when Less saw through the door, which stood
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 219 
 
 slightly ajar, a waiter, who beckoned him. 
 Fearful that something was wrong with his 
 friend, but anxious not to disturb the com- 
 pany, he rose with a forced laugh, saying : 
 
 "I'm going to fetch our truant back if I 
 am excused." 
 
 "Go on, Less," said Tiger Lily, "it's time 
 he returned." 
 
 He left the room, to remdin away an un- 
 reasonably long time. Without him the con- 
 versation flagged, a dull silence, broken now 
 and then by a monosyllabic remark or a 
 whisper, hung over the party. The minutes 
 dragged interminably, until Tiger Lily rose, 
 saying, " I can't stand this, I fear something 
 is wrong, and I'm going to see. Will you 
 come with me, Durrell ? " 
 
 "Yes," -replied he, rising promptly, but 
 looking up he saw Less standing in the 
 doorway with a very serious look upon his 
 usually merry face. 
 
 "Well? "he said.
 
 ii20 A MORAL SLOT. 
 
 ' ' Leo was taken sick, and we have sent him 
 home. He begs you will not disturb your- 
 selves, but continue as if he were here." 
 
 " Waiter," called Tiger Lily sharply, " call 
 a carriage, please." Then to the company, 
 " I'm going home to him. Come, Ada. 
 What was it, Less ? " 
 
 " His old trouble, the cough," answered 
 Less, evasively. 
 
 "Good-night," said Tiger Lily, abruptly, 
 as she hurried out with Ada. 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 "Anything serious, Less ? " whispered Dur- 
 rell anxiously. 
 
 "Yes. A terrible hemorrhage. Two 
 doctors have gone home with him, and it 
 looks bad." . v 
 
 "Not not " 
 
 " I don't know. I'm going to him as soon 
 as I can, but he wished me to do the honors 
 here. I couldn't say no, and here I am 
 when I ought to be with him."
 
 A MOEAL BLOT. 221 
 
 " What can you do for him ? " 
 " Mighty little, mighty little ; but I'd like 
 to be there to do that. Durrell, he he's my 
 best, my dearest friend." 
 
 "Go then, Less, I'll take charge here." 
 
 " Thanks, old man, that's kind and " 
 
 Less turned a pair of eyes in which there 
 were traces of a threatened overflow upon 
 his friend, and wrung his hand vigorously, 
 then muttering a " good-night " that sounded 
 like a sob, he hurriedly left the room.
 
 222 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EXIT. 
 
 " The moving Finger writes ; and having writ, 
 Moves on ; nor all your Piety nor Wit 
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, 
 Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it." 
 
 RUBAYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 
 
 AT about noon 011 the following day, Dur- 
 rell rang the bell at Mrs. West's. 
 
 As the servant opened the door he caught 
 sight of Less, still in evening-dress, from the 
 night before, and called to him. 
 
 " You have not slept ! " exclaimed Durrell, 
 noticing his friend's pallor and disordered 
 dress, at a glance. 
 
 "None of us have," wearily replied Less. 
 
 "Well, what news ; how is he ?" 
 
 " Beyond all pain."
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 223 
 
 "Good God, not dead?" 
 
 Less nodded an affirmative. He was too 
 much affected to command his voice for the 
 moment. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " exclaimed Durrell, aghast. 
 For a moment the two men stood silent, as if 
 stunned by the sudden blow. Durrell broke 
 the silence, saying in a subdued tone : "Tell 
 me about it." 
 
 "Sit down," replied Less sadly, "and I 
 will. The doctors worked over him when he 
 reached home and seemed to ease him. He 
 was terribly weak, though, and after a while 
 fell asleep. I sat there with one of the phy- 
 sicians, watching ; watching and thinking. 
 I could not read, the lights were too dim ; we 
 could not talk, it might waken Leo ; and I 
 dared not sleep for fear he might want me. 
 For hours we sat there in silence, the doctor 
 and I, with nothing to occupy our minds. 
 I counted the ticks of the clock for a while ; 
 but gave that up as a bad job. I tried not
 
 224 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 to think of poor Leo, but the thought -would 
 come. The doctors gave us very little hope, 
 and the fear that he was already dying con- 
 stantly haunted me. I would have given 
 everything to be able to act, but against the 
 awful uncertainty of death what was I to do ? 
 You know my religious views that is, you 
 know I have none, and yet I prayed then ; 
 prayed fervently, honestly, for Leo's life. 
 There are limits beyond which we stumble 
 against the dark barrier of the unknown and 
 unknowable. Oh, what a comfort it would 
 be, did we but know that sundered ones 
 would be reunited at ( that bourn from which 
 no traveller returns, ' but, alas ! no one can say 
 truly that he knows. Many, like me, scoff 
 at religion, but the visit of death to a dear 
 one brings us to our knees. Death is re- 
 ligion's strongest ally." Less sighed heavily 
 and paused a moment. " Well," he resumed, 
 "finally Leo woke, and the doctor gave him 
 some medicine. He seemed remarkably
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 225 
 
 bright, and I was surprised and delighted to 
 note his improvement. He asked me to 
 bring the manuscript of his new play, * The 
 Diver,' and read him the last lines he had 
 written, and I obeyed. 'Now write,' he 
 said, and I took up the pen the doctor 
 approached the bedside ' Exit,' and as I 
 wrote the word I heard the doctor exclaim, 
 and, looking up, saw at a glance that the 
 end had come. That was the last word poor 
 Leo ever spoke. In half an hour he was 
 gone. " 
 
 " Exit," murmured Durrell sadly. 
 
 "He died peacefully," said Less, making 
 no effort to conceal the evidences of his 
 grief, " just fell asleep. He looks as if he 
 were sleeping ; would you like to see him ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Come," and he rose to show the way. 
 
 "But " 
 
 "Well, what is it?" 
 
 "Perhaps Tiger Lily "
 
 2-26 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 "No, poor girl, I think she has gone to her 
 room." 
 
 "Come then." 
 
 In a small anteroom, through which the 
 two men passed to reach the room where 
 the body lay, they saw Tiger Lily sitting at 
 a table, her head buried in her folded arms, 
 sobbing wildly, in a perfect abandonment of 
 grief. They tip-toed by her, almost un- 
 noticed, and entered the chamber of death. 
 
 Tiger Lily was roused by the voice of one 
 of the servants raised in loud expostulation. 
 She lifted her dishevelled head and gazed 
 about, with eyes red and bloodshot from 
 weeping, seeking the cause of the disturb- 
 ance. 
 
 "You mustn't go in there, Miss," the 
 maid was saying ; "indeed you can't." 
 
 "I must and shall. Stand aside ! " 
 
 "Who is there?" called Tiger Lily, 
 wearily. The door opened and Rose Choate 
 entered. Tiger Lily rose to her feet with
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 227 
 
 the look of a fury, and the servant made off 
 after one frightened look at her. 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Oh, is he really dead?" There were 
 tears in her voice and eyes as she spoke. 
 
 "Dead! yes, and you killed him!" cried 
 Tiger Lily vehemently ; "You, who might 
 have had his love even to this day, if you 
 chose ; might have had him by your side 
 now, full of life, of love, of happiness ! But 
 you sent him from you, out into the storm, 
 and now he is there, cold, gray, dead, dead, 
 and you killed him. Oh, Leo, Leo ! " A 
 passionate burst of sobs choked her utter- 
 ance. 
 
 "I killed him !" cried Rose in tearful in- 
 dignation. "Did I lead him into the fast 
 company he has been keeping of late ? Did 
 I take him with me to late suppers, teach 
 him to use wine as water, make him lead a 
 life of which each moment must bring some 
 new excitement, and which treacherously and
 
 228 A MORAL SLOT. 
 
 surely undermined his health ? That is 
 what killed him, and you, not I, are the 
 cause." 
 
 Tiger Lily shook her head sadly, " I loved 
 him," she said simply, " I love him now and 
 always. " 
 
 "And I loved him," wailed Rose, "I 
 never ceased to love him. I came here 
 yesterday, prepared to humble myself, to 
 win him back ; I came to-day determined to 
 do so. Every fibre of my heart has yearned 
 for him since we parted, and now now he 
 is dead ! Oh, why did you ever come 
 between us ? You are my evil genius." 
 
 "And you were his." 
 
 "You did not care for him as I do," 
 sobbed Rose. "In a short while you will 
 forget him for some new lover, but I " 
 
 "Oh, you "began Tiger Lily fiercely, 
 and then feebly finished by covering her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 The door was heard to close, and Less
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 229 
 
 stood between them. He caught Tiger Lily's 
 words, and saw at a glance how matters 
 stood. 
 
 "Ladies," he said gently, "is this a time 
 or placa to quarrel ? Let the dead rest in 
 peace, he was a friend to both of you, can 
 you not remember this, and 
 
 "Don't, Less," said Tiger Lily, tearfully, 
 " I ought not to have allowed her to so 
 aggravate me. " 
 
 "Mrs. Choate," he said, turning to Eose, 
 " do you think it right to intrude here ? " 
 
 "I came to see Leo, I find him dead," she 
 wailed. 
 
 "Alas ! and finding him so ? " 
 
 "I shall remain," was the dogged re 
 sponse. 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 " I do not know," she sobbed, " to be near 
 him." 
 
 " Think of the talk your action will cause 
 among your friends."
 
 230 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " I do not care," she returned, in the same 
 dogged way. 
 
 ' ' You must care. We are ' Bohemians ' 
 here, and do as we please. In ' Bohemia ' 
 they do not delight in destroying reputa- 
 tions ; but you come from a different sphere, 
 where you must beware of your ' friends. ' 
 You look down upon poor Tiger Lily, and 
 speak slightingly, scornfully, of her. If you 
 remain, even as you do to her, so will your 
 friends do to you." 
 
 "What shall I live for now?" moaned 
 Rose. 
 
 " That will appear later. We all feel his 
 loss as keenly as you do, but we must think 
 of the living. Your duty is to yourself now, 
 and it bids you go." 
 
 " I cannot, oh, I cannot," cried Eose de- 
 spairingly, ' ' oh, you can't know how bitter 
 has been my self-reproach, how I loved him, 
 how I lived only in the hope of a reconciliation 
 when the time should come. I knew I must
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 231 
 
 wait and I did wait, so patiently, and all the 
 time my love grew stronger, deeper, until 
 at last it filled my whole being. Then I 
 found myself free, and I came to him, only 
 to learn that she had risen up between us, and 
 now now " she covered her face with 
 her hands, weeping bitterly. 
 
 "Tiger Lily loved Leo, too," said Less 
 gently, "even as you loved him, and the 
 same sorrow that has fallen upon you 
 weighs her down ; your sufferings are hers. 
 If you two could only share your sorrow and 
 sympathize with each other, how much 
 better it would be than exchanging bitter 
 taunts and reproaches as you have been 
 doing. The cause of your enmity is gone 
 with Leo's life. The cause of your sorrow 
 remains, lying in there, a poor morsel of 
 clay. Will you quarrel over all that is left 
 us of our friend, or will you rather mingle 
 your tears in peace, perhaps friendship ? " 
 
 Tiger Lily dried her eyes and answered :
 
 232 A MORAL BLOT. 
 
 " Friends we cannot be, there is much to 
 prevent, even if we were both willing. She 
 holds aloof from me, and she does right; my 
 friendship would degrade her in the circle 
 she moves in, no matter how disinterested 
 it might be, but we need not be enemies. 
 Sorrow has come to us, we can bear it 
 together, and when when all is over, she 
 will go her way, I will go mine, and we 
 shall meet no more. 
 
 ''You are very good," said Rose tremu- 
 lously, turning to Tiger Lily, " but I I may 
 as well die now," she added hysterically. 
 
 " Once he said something like that to me," 
 said Tiger Lily softly, "and then he added, 
 'I did more than die, I lived,' and his words 
 have always remained fixed in my memory. 
 I feel as you do, but I shall do as he did. 
 He loved little Ada, and the child's future 
 shall be my care. I know the perils of an 
 actress's life, and I will shield her until she 
 is a noble, pure woman, and I can say :
 
 A MORAL BLOT. 233 
 
 'This is what he would have wished for 
 her.'" 
 
 "Let me aid you," cried Rose, eagerly. 
 
 " We shall see later," she replied. " I am 
 glad," she thought, with a compassionate 
 look at Eose, "that I have that last parable 
 of Leo's, and can suppress it, for her sake, 
 poor thing." She held forth her hand, and 
 Eose took it in both of hers, sobbing. 
 
 "Come," said Tiger Lily, "let us go to 
 him. " And with great calmness she led Eose 
 to the door of Leo's chamber. 
 
 Less was there before them, and as he held 
 the door open, he beckoned Durrell to leave 
 the two women alone with the dead. 
 
 THE END.
 
 From the Press of the Arena Publishing Company. 
 
 Along Shore with a Man of War. 
 
 By MARGUERITE DICKINS. A delightful story of travel, de- 
 lightfully told, handsomely illustrated, and beautifully bound. 
 Price, postpaid, $1.50. 
 
 Evolution. 
 
 Popular lectures by leading thinkers, delivered before the 
 Brooklyn Ethical Association. This work is of inestimable 
 value to the general reader who is interested in Evolution as 
 applied to religious, scientific, and social themes. It is the joint 
 work of a number of the foremost thinkers in America to-day. 
 One volume, handsome cloth, illustrated, complete index. 
 408 pp. Price, postpaid, $2.00. 
 
 Sociology. 
 
 Popular lectures by eminent thinkers, delivered before the 
 Brooklyn Ethical Association. This work is a companion 
 volume to "Evolution," and presents the best thought of 
 representative thinkers on social evolution. One volume, 
 handsome cloth, with diagram and complete index. 412 pp. 
 Price, postpaid, $2.00. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers. Sent postpaid upon receipt of 
 the price. 
 
 Arena Publishing Company, 
 
 Copley 5quar*, BOSTON,
 
 From the Press of the Arena Publishing Company. 
 
 is This Your Son, My Lord? 
 
 By HELEN H. GARDENER. The most powerful novel written 
 
 by an American. A terrible expose of conventional immorality 
 and hypocrisy. Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Pray You, Sir, Whose Daughter ? 
 
 By HELEN H. GARDENER. A brilliant novel of to-day, deal- 
 ing with social purity and the " age of consent " laws. Price : 
 paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 A Spoil of Office. 
 
 A novel. By HAMLIN GARLAND. The truest picture of 
 Western life that has appeared in American fiction. Price: 
 paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Lessons Learned from Other Lives. 
 
 By B. O. FLOWER. 
 
 There are fourteen biographies in this volume, dealing with the lives 
 of Seneca and Epictetus, the great Roman philosophers ; Joan of Arc, 
 the warrior maid; Henry Clay, the statesman; Edwin Booth and 
 Joseph Jefferson, the actors ; John Howard Payne, William Cullen 
 Bryant, Edgar Allan Poe, Alice and Phoebe Gary, and John G. Whittier, 
 the poets; Alfred Russell Wallace, the scientist; Victor Hugo, the many- 
 sided man of genius. 
 
 "The book sparkles witn literary jewels." Christian Leader, Cin- 
 cinnati, Ohio. 
 
 Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth. $1.00. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers. Sent postpaid upon receipt .1 
 the price. 
 
 Arena Publishing Company, 
 
 Copley Square, BOSTON*
 
 From tbe Press of the Arena Publishing Company. 
 
 The Dream Child. 
 
 A fascinating romance of two worlds. By FLORENCE HUNT- 
 LEY. Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 A Mute Confessor. 
 
 The romance of a Southern town. By WILL N. HARBEN, 
 author of "White Marie," "Almost Persuaded," etc. Price: 
 paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Redbank ; Life on a Southern Plantation. 
 
 By M. L. COWLES. A typical Southern story by a Southern 
 woman. Price: paper, 00; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Psychics. Facts and Theories. 
 
 By Rev. MINOT J. SAVAGE. A thoughtful discussion of 
 Psychical problems. Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Civilization's Inferno : studies in the Social Cellar. 
 By B. O. FLOWER. I. Introductory chapter. II. Society's 
 Exiles. III. Two Hours in the Social Cellar. IV. The 
 Democracy of Darkness. V. -Why the Ishmaelites Multiply. 
 VI. The Froth and the Dregs. VII. A Pilgrimage and a 
 Vision. VIII. Some Facts and a Question. IX. What of the 
 Morrow? Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers. Sent postpaid upon receipt of 
 the price. 
 
 Arena Publishing Company, 
 
 Copley Square, BO5TON, A\ASS.
 
 From the Press of the Arena Publishing Company. 
 
 Songs. 
 
 By NEITH BOYCE. Illustrated with original drawings by 
 ETHELWYN WELLS CONREY. A beautiful gift book. Bound 
 in white and gold. Price, postpaid, $1.25. 
 
 The Finished Creation, and other Poems. 
 
 By BENJAMIN HATHAWAY, author of "The League of the 
 Iroquois," " Art Life," and other Poems. Handsomely 
 bound in white parchment vellum, stamped in silver. Price, 
 postpaid, $1.25- 
 
 Wit and Humor of the Bible. 
 
 By Rev. MARION D. SHUTTER, D.D. A brilliant and reverent 
 treatise. Published only in cloth. Price, postpaid, $1.50. 
 
 Son Of Man; or, Sequel to Evolution. 
 
 By CELESTIA ROOT LANG. Published only in cloth. 
 
 This work, in many respects, very remarkably discusses the next 
 step in the Evolution of Man. It is in perfect touch with advanced 
 Christian Evolutionary thought, but takes a step beyond the present 
 position of Religion Leaders. 
 
 Price, postpaid, $1.25. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers. Sent postpaid upon receipt of 
 the price. 
 
 Arena Publishing Company, 
 
 Copley Squ&re 
 
 BOSTON, A\ASS.
 
 From the Press of tbe Arena Publishing Company. 
 
 Salome Shepard, Reformer. 
 
 By HELEN M. WINSLOW. A New England story. Price : 
 paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 The Law of Laws. 
 
 By S. B. WAIT. The author takes advance metaphysical 
 grounds on the origin, nature, and destiny of the soul. 
 
 " It is offered as a contribution to the thought of that unnumbered 
 fraternity of spirit whose members are found wherever souls are sen- 
 sitive to the impact of the truth and feel another's burden as their 
 own." Author's Preface. 
 
 256 pages; handsome cloth. Price, postpaid, $1.50. 
 
 Life. A Novel. 
 
 By WILLIAM W. WHEELER. A book of thrilling interest from 
 cover to cover. 
 
 In the form of a novel called " LIFE," William W. Wheeler has put 
 before the public some of the clearest statements of logical ideas 
 regarding humanity's present aspects, its inherent and manifest 
 . powers, and its future, that we have ever read. The book is strong, 
 keen, powerful ; running over with thought, so expressed as to clearly 
 conveythe author's ideas; everything is to the point, nothing super- 
 fluous and for this it is specially admirable. Tbe "Boston Times. 
 
 Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers. Sent postpaid upon receipt oj 
 tbe price. 
 
 Arena Publishing Company, 
 
 Copley Squar*, 
 
 BOSTON,
 
 From the Tress of tbe Arena Tublisbing Company. 
 
 Jason Edwards: An Average Man. 
 
 By HAMLIN GARLAND. A powerful and realistic story of 
 to-day. Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Who Lies? An Interrogation. 
 
 By BLUM and ALEXANDER. A book that is well worth read- 
 ing. Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Main Travelled Roads. 
 
 Six Mississippi Valley stories. By HAMLIN GARLAND. 
 
 " The sturdy spirit of true democracy runs through this book." 
 Review of Reviews. 
 
 Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Irrepressible Conflict Between Two World- 
 Theories. 
 
 By Rev. MINOT J. SAVAGE. The most powerful presentation 
 of Theistic Evolution "versus Orthodoxy that has ever ap- 
 peared. Price: paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers. Sent postpaid upon receipt of 
 tbe price. 
 
 Arena Publishing Company, 
 Copley ?quart, BO5TON,