MaraRH- 

 
 408E
 
 THE JUDGMENT
 
 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 BY 
 MARY R. H. KING 
 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE DEMILLE PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 145 WEST 45TH STREET
 
 COPYRIGHTED, 1911 
 
 BY MARY R. H. KING AND 
 
 SUSAN P. H. MATLOCK
 
 To " SISTER " 
 
 Truest friend, kindliest critic, staunch supporter, 
 co-weaver of my story, 1 dedicate 
 
 " THE JUDGMENT." 
 
 2136S76
 
 THE JUDGMENT
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 JOSEPH HOWAKD loved his wife, so unselfishly 
 that her self-centered disposition had not em- 
 bittered or estranged his love. Years had ac- 
 customed him to her selfish demands until it 
 had grown into a habit to expect of her no sacri- 
 fice. He had unconsciously fostered this trait 
 until she carelessly demanded of others sacri- 
 fices such as she herself would never have 
 dreamed of making. 
 
 In her fashionable set, pretty young Mrs. 
 Howard was a well-known favorite of the social 
 world. Pampered before her marriage, she 
 knew no reason for giving to irksome domestic 
 duties the time she lavished upon social 
 pleasures. 
 
 Though at twenty she was a wife, no demand 
 of motherhood came to disturb her gay serenity 
 for five years. The child, Eleanor, was like her 
 father, determined, truthful and magnanimous ; 
 like him also in her eager impetuosity. From 
 him she inherited her tall, straight form, her 
 slender patrician hands and feet, her large 
 brown eyes that glowed with tender love or 
 burned and blazed with indignation. Her head
 
 8 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 was crowned with her mother's curling hair, 
 but its golden tints shaded into the soberer 
 shades of the father's, until the whole was a 
 mass of reddish brown and gold, while her soft 
 pink cheeks and crimson lips brought out the 
 fairness of her fresh white skin. 
 
 As she grew, her beauty developed, and at 
 fifteen, like a bud half opened, she gave rich 
 promise. She was her father's greatest pride 
 and joy ; between them existed a rare degree of 
 companionship. While they enjoyed many 
 things in common, the individuality of each was 
 so strong that often between them arose strug- 
 gles of will in which neither was willing to give 
 way. 
 
 Dr. Louis Bryan, her father's old-time friend, 
 was generally Eleanor's ally in these wars of 
 words, but sometimes he would oppose her for 
 the joy of seeing her fight her battles unaided. 
 "Our little rebel," they called her, delighting 
 in the term. First for her father's, then for 
 her own sake, Dr. Bryan loved Eleanor, and 
 claimed her as half his own, in the place of the 
 longed for child denied him in his own brief 
 married life. Like his friend, Dr. Bryan was of 
 Southern birth. This closely cemented the 
 friendship between them, surrounded as they 
 were by the distinctly Northern type. 
 
 To the joy of them both, Eleanor was more
 
 THE JUDGMENT 9 
 
 like a Southern girl than might have been ex- 
 pected from her Northern training and the 
 prejudices of her narrow-minded mother. The 
 impulsive generosity and warm-hearted loving- 
 ness of the South was tempered in her by the 
 coolly independent spirit of the North, a baf- 
 fling combination where the two elements often 
 warred. 
 
 When she was fifteen, her father died. With 
 all the intensity of her ardent nature she 
 grieved for him, and from that time the bonds 
 between herself and the old Doctor grew into 
 the close knit cords of sympathizing love. They 
 became greater comrades than ever, and often 
 on her daily way to the fashionable school 
 where she was being "finished," Eleanor would 
 stop for a few minutes' chat with him, some- 
 times leaving behind her a flower, sometimes 
 only the recollection of her bright face and 
 fondly teasing words. 
 
 Mrs. Howard stubbornly refused to follow Dr. 
 Bryan's advice, urging the continuance of her 
 husband's investments, and placed her fortune 
 in the hands of Johnson Evans, an old time ad- 
 mirer of her own. He absconded, leaving them 
 dependent upon Eleanor's small inheritance 
 from her maternal grandmother. 
 
 This loss fell with stunning force upon Mrs. 
 Howard, and left her prostrated. Instead of
 
 10 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 recognizing that ruin had come through her own 
 stubborn will, she reiterated her lamentations 
 of the unkindness of fate, and declared that 
 rather than endure privations she preferred to 
 die, until her health began a rapid decline, and 
 she became a troublesome, fault-finding invalid. 
 
 Eleanor, was now nearly nineteen, and her 
 beautiful face bore the shadow of the heavy 
 burden laid upon her shoulders. She had be- 
 gun to realize that there was not enough in the 
 frivolous education given by her thoughtless 
 mother to fit her for any responsible work, and 
 moreover, to this plan her mother offered the 
 most stubborn opposition, saying that the day 
 on which Eleanor chose to disgrace herself by 
 work, she would surely die. 
 
 William Manning was forty-five. Sated with 
 pleasure; worn out by excess; thrust as a boy 
 into premature manhood by enormous wealth, 
 and with utter absence of control, he had be- 
 come, when man should be strongest, merely a 
 suggestion of what he might have been. Self- 
 ishness was so engrafted to his soul that it left 
 no room for thought or care for others. Small 
 and slender; his little head was covered with 
 straight black hair, and his close set black eyes 
 shone brightly in his pointed, sallow face. 
 
 Since the days of her early marriage, Mrs. 
 Howard had known Manning, and after her
 
 THE JUDGMENT 11 
 
 husband's death he was a frequent visitor at 
 her house. She had often thought of a second 
 marriage during her young widowhood, but 
 after losing her money, the offers of marriage 
 were not many. 
 
 Mrs. Howard's nature was not one to enlarge 
 upon the beauty of another, and in her com- 
 parisons of their attractiveness, her daughter's 
 beauty always suffered. "So overgrown," she 
 deplored, "and her hair and her eyes, well, 
 thank heaven my hair is golden and my eyes 
 are blue." So when Manning's visits grew 
 more frequent, she had no thought of Eleanor 
 as their cause, and her surprise when he told 
 her was genuine. Always resourceful with her 
 own interest at stake, she quickly recovered her- 
 self and accepted the situation with mental 
 thanksgiving, that by this new arrangement 
 she could enjoy its many benefits without the 
 responsibilities of marriage. She was fully 
 aware that Manning had sunk as low as men of 
 high position sometimes sink, and that his tat- 
 tered reputation hung to the skeleton of his lost 
 respectability, but the glow of the promised 
 golden harvest concealed his moral turpitude, 
 and her eyes brightened while her cordial out- 
 stretched hands assured him of her co-opera- 
 tion. 
 
 For several months Manning's admiration
 
 12 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 for Eleanor had been quickening until, no 
 longer satisfied with fleeting glimpses, he had 
 decided to visit her at home. The girl's indif- 
 ference baffled him, and held him off, a little 
 awed by the unconsciousness of unspoiled girl- 
 hood. He was surprised to find himself liking 
 the new experience, of a woman looking at him 
 with calm, unblinded eyes, his money a disre- 
 garded thing. 
 
 In his proposal, Mrs. Howard at once found 
 the happiest solution of her problems. With 
 Eleanor married to Manning, there need no 
 longer remain the question of how to stretch 
 their income to afford the luxuries she craved. 
 This would remove any necessity for Eleanor's 
 working, and all fears of privations for herself. 
 "She is so like her father that she cannot re- 
 fuse me anything," she mused, congratulating 
 herself. As Eleanor entered the room, she lost 
 no time. "Guess who has been here again, 
 Dearie?" 
 
 "One of your friends?" 
 
 "One of our friends; one who is anxious to 
 become our closest friend. Can't you make one 
 little guess?" 
 
 "I have only one good friend; and it can't 
 be Dr. Bryan, for I have just left him." 
 
 "No, it is some one who will soon be much 
 nearer than Dr. Bryan," and Mrs. Howard's
 
 THE JUDGMENT 13 
 
 voice was rather sharp. She had never shared 
 her husband's love for their outspoken old 
 friend. 
 
 "Then I could never guess ; no one could ever 
 be so near to me as Dr. Bryan." 
 
 "Then I will tell you; it was Mr. Manning." 
 
 ' * Yes ? He must find it pleasant here to make 
 a second visit this week." 
 
 "He does, and he proposes to come oftener." 
 
 "What a distinction," laughed Eleanor. 
 
 Mrs. Howard was finding it hard to convey 
 her meaning. "Can't you imagine his motive, 
 Eleanor, dear?" she asked, with an appealing 
 tone in her voice. 
 
 At the familiar note, Eleanor turned, realiz- 
 ing that something lay beneath her mother's 
 words, and answered: "Why, no, did he have a 
 motive ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes-you." 
 
 "I! How could I be a motive for his visit t" 
 
 When Mrs. Howard was excited she showed 
 it. 
 
 "Oh, Eleanor! do not refuse him," she cried, 
 the usual tears starting from her eyes as she 
 ran to Eleanor to throw her arms about her, but 
 Eleanor, being tall, it was not convenient to 
 embrace her in an unresponsive mood. An- 
 gered at this, Mrs. Howard began to weep. 
 "You are just like the rest of the world, refus-
 
 14 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 ing me my heart's one desire. You never think 
 how I have suffered for you, or how my health 
 is declining under all these awful privations, 
 since I lost my money," she complained, as she 
 threw herself upon the couch, sobbing loudly. 
 
 To Eleanor the cause of the outbreak was not 
 plain. She could not see why she should be 
 blamed, but she was so familiar with her moth- 
 er's methods that she stood quietly waiting for 
 the hysterics to subside and the secret to be 
 made plain. 
 
 "Really, Mother," she said coldly, "I think 
 this very unnecessary. If I have done anything 
 to offend you, I am entirely unconscious of it; 
 and as for Mr. Manning, since I have not seen 
 him, I could hardly have offended him." 
 
 Mrs. Howard lifted pleading hands: "Just 
 listen! Just listen! You are perfectly heart- 
 less ! No feeling at all ! " Her anger increased 
 with her tears. "To think how I have suffered 
 for you, how I have watched over you, looked 
 after your welfare and your chances in life. 
 Oh! Eleanor, some day I hope you will suffer 
 as I am suffering now; that some day your 
 heart may receive stabs from a heartless, thank- 
 less child." 
 
 While Eleanor was outwardly calm she was 
 inwardly tumultuous. "What have I done 
 now ? Stop crying and tell me what you mean. ' '
 
 THE JUDGMENT 15 
 
 "Oh, you need not pretend that you do not 
 see how easy it will make matters for us if you 
 will only marry Mr. Manning." 
 
 Eleanor's eyes grew wild. "Marry Mr. 
 Manning! I? Mother, have you lost your 
 mind? What on earth put such an idea into 
 your head ? ' ' 
 
 "He did. He put it there himself. He is 
 wildly in love with you, and not an hour ago he 
 asked my consent," her mother answered, at 
 once revived, misled by Eleanor's calm, but al- 
 most before her mother's words were spoken, 
 Eleanor's wrath culminated. 
 
 "The impertinent beast!" she cried, her eyes 
 ablaze, "I would not marry him if there were 
 not another man. alive, and you can tell him so." 
 
 At this her mother screamed again : 
 
 "Oh, think! Think, Eleanor, of how rich he 
 is, and how poor we are. You know that I can 
 no longer keep my maid, and it tires me so to 
 comb my hair. ' ' 
 
 "I can comb it for you." Eleanor answered 
 grimly. 
 
 "No! you pull it. Such cruelty will kill me; 
 how can you hesitate when he can give us every- 
 thing?" 
 
 Eleanor interrupted "Mother! is there 
 nothing better than money? Can money change 
 his evil character? I do not want to marry any
 
 16 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 one, much less such a man as that. I will work 
 for you; I will protect you; I can find a place 
 as governess; surely I am competent for that, 
 and I will work hard for you, but " She 
 got no further, for her mother had fainted. 
 Calling for help, but afraid to leave, Eleanor 
 chafed the white hands until slow life re- 
 turned. 
 
 Mrs. Howard was' not strong. Scenes like 
 this reduced her strength, leaving her a pitiful 
 spectacle of weakness. But under the faded 
 blonde beauty, there lay an indomitable will, and 
 although she was confined to her bed for days, 
 she never ceased her pleading. 
 
 With determined effort, day by day, she per- 
 sisted. Argument only angered her, and when 
 Eleanor finally refused to discuss the subject, 
 it brought a fresh outbreak of rage and tears, 
 followed by increasing weakness. 
 
 Dr. Bryan came and tried to quiet her ex- 
 citement. 
 
 "No, Dr. Bryan, you do not know Eleanor. 
 Her stubbornness is sinful. She is refusing 
 what any other girl in New York would 
 be only too glad to get, and she will never again 
 have such a chance. He has been here five 
 times this week, and each time she refused to see 
 him. It is nothing but stubbornness, and I be- 
 lieve she does it to kill me, which it is doing,"
 
 THE JUDGMENT 17 
 
 and she wound up her argument with another 
 outburst of weeping. 
 
 "See here, Mrs. Howard, you must stop this 
 at once; you cannot drive Eleanor into such a 
 shameful thing as you propose. Do you want 
 the servants to hear you, and to spread the re- 
 port of it broadcast? I am ashamed of you, 
 and if you will not control yourself I must ad- 
 minister something that will quiet you." 
 
 Angered by his tone, as much as by what he 
 said, a worse attack than usual came on. When 
 she had grown quiet, Eleanor and Dr. Bryan, 
 thankful for a few minutes' talk, sought the li- 
 brary. With an arm around her, he stroked 
 her bowed head, while behind his spectacles 
 tears shone. "Bear up, little girl, bear up," 
 was all he could say in his effort to console her. 
 
 Eleanor was far too tired to cry. For six 
 days and nights she had listened to the same in- 
 cessant complaints and charges of unkindness, 
 and had seen each attack of her mother's hys- 
 teria followed by prostration more pronounced 
 and alarming. 
 
 When at last she lifted her head, the somber 
 eyes with their great dark circles brought an 
 added pain to the tender heart of the old man. 
 
 "Help me, Doctor Tell me, what can I do? 
 Must I give in?" she asked, her voice hoarse 
 and strained.
 
 18 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "Of course not, my child. It is horrible to 
 make such a demand of you, and you shall not 
 sacrifice yourself in any such infernal way. 
 You know I love you ; that you are as dear to me 
 as if you were my own, and shall I sit by and see 
 you sacrificed to a man of Manning's stamp to 
 gratify your mother's heartless selfishness?" 
 
 "It has not come to that yet. I have refused 
 her, but if she dies, I shall feel that I have killed 
 her." Her voice rose excitedly. "How could 
 I face father? He told me to watch over her. 
 He said to me with almost his last whisper: 
 1 Stick to Bryan, Eleanor, and take care of 
 Mamma.' " 
 
 "Tut! tut! child; that is nonsense. If your 
 mother dies to-night, it is not your fault, it is 
 her own ungovernable nature that is killing 
 her." 
 
 The girl caught at the words "is killing her." 
 "Then she will die, you mean?" her eyes were 
 wide and frightened. "Tell me," she de- 
 manded. He tried to calm her. "Eleanor, 
 don't look like that. Be brave." 
 
 She paid no heed, but cried in terror: "Tell 
 me, is she dying? Tell me, you must!" 
 
 "Not yet, but she very soon may be if she 
 does not improve," he answered, not daring to 
 refuse. "She is greatly weakened, and she was 
 never strong." He did not add that in his
 
 THE JUDGMENT 19 
 
 opinion it would be a good thing if she were 
 dead. 
 
 ''She will die, and I shall have killed her! 
 Poor, weak little Mamma. This is how I have 
 kept my promise to Dad." Her overwrought 
 conscience scourged her to agony through the 
 long hours of the night, as she sat watching her 
 mother's disturbed sleep, and there Eleanor 
 made her decision. 
 
 In the pale uncertain light of early morning, 
 Eleanor stood at her mother's window, looking 
 towards the rose-tinted promises of the sun. 
 When her mother began to move, she whispered 
 brokenly: "Oh, help me, Dad!" 
 
 As the querulous voice called, " Eleanor 1" 
 she turned toward the bed, and with a brave ef- 
 fort to control her voice, answered: "Yes, 
 mother, I am here. Is there anything you 
 want?" 
 
 The same plaint again : "I am so unhappy ! so 
 miserable!" 
 
 Then the girl spoke, and if her voice was cold, 
 her mother did not know or care, for the words 
 she heard brought happiness enough. "Mother, 
 we need have no more of this. I will marry 
 Mr. Manning, since nothing else will cure you." 
 
 In an instant the invalid's face brightened; 
 she tried to raise herself, outstretched her arms 
 and cried out joyfully: "Darling, come to me!
 
 20 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 How happy you make your poor sick mother!" 
 
 Eleanor's tone was lifeless when she spoke. 
 "No, go to sleep again; excitement is not good 
 for you. If the man comes to-day I will tell 
 him. I am going to my room, but I'll send Jane 
 to you." 
 
 Not for years had Manning been so eager as 
 after reading the note Mrs. Howard sent him 
 when Eleanor left the room, but despite the 
 good news, his air was less jaunty and his sal- 
 low face showed a few added lines, brought 
 there by the past six days of waiting. His 
 small, black eyes burned with a feverish glow as 
 he waited for Eleanor, and as she entered the 
 room, his dry lips tightened and the nervous 
 brightness of his eyes was startling. He moved 
 toward her eagerly, but she checked his advance 
 by a curt nod of salutation, and a cold: "Will 
 you be seated?" 
 
 His hot hand dropped, and he waited for her 
 to speak. His eyes were never still, but 
 searched and searched and sparkled in a way 
 which no one likes to see. 
 
 With her natural straightforwardness, she 
 came directly to the point. "My mother says 
 you want to marry me. What made you think 
 of such a thing?" 
 
 The tension loosened, his relief showed plainly 
 in his face, as he answered, trying hard to keep
 
 THE JUDGMENT 21 
 
 his voice controlled: "The sight of you did that. 
 I want you because you are the most beautiful 
 woman in New York." 
 
 The girl's face was disdainful, and her voice 
 rang hard. "I do not care for flattery, " she 
 said, "and if I marry you, I assure you it is 
 only to save my mother's life. The Doctor 
 tells me she will die unless the excitement is re- 
 moved. Nothing else on earth could make me 
 consent to it. I do not wish to marry anyone, 
 certainly not you." Her eyes and accent 
 showed indescribable contempt. 
 
 He made an effort at lightness. "It grieves 
 me that you do not love me, since my love for 
 you is so great, but even so, I still desire you for 
 my own. You may yet learn to love me." 
 
 "It is hardly likely," she replied. To any 
 other man her tone and look would have been 
 insult, but Manning only laughed. "Then let 
 me say I have enough for both, and at any rate 
 you will make the loveliest wife a man ever had. ' ' 
 
 He tried to place his hand on hers, but at the 
 contact she snatched her own away as if his 
 touch had burned her. She turned to him in 
 pale-faced fury, her eyes ablaze, exclaiming: 
 "How dare you! Move back!" 
 
 Into Manning's black eyes crept a look which 
 Eleanor later learned to know. He laughed 
 shortly as he moved backward.
 
 22 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 ' ' Just as you like. Let me hope that you may 
 acquire more sociability. Wives do some- 
 times." Then after a moment, he resumed: 
 "May I venture to beg that you will not post- 
 pone my happiness?" 
 
 A hunted look crept to her face, as, breathing 
 quickly she replied: "Surely there is no hurry. 
 We need not now discuss the time." 
 
 Manning's cruel smile gathered. "Would 
 you keep me longer in suspense? I have suf- 
 fered for six days, and now that happiness 
 awaits me, I am eager for it. I cannot wait so 
 do not ask it, but marry me at once." 
 
 "At once!" she cried, drawing still further 
 away from him. Her hand sought her throat 
 as if to loosen a choking gasp, and her stricken 
 eyes would have moved to pity any soul less 
 mean; Manning's eyes leaped with greedy satis- 
 faction when he caught the look, which was al- 
 most fear, and he mercilessly pressed his ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 "But I am not ready; my mother is still 
 dangerously ill, and until last night, I had not 
 even considered the possibility of such a 
 thing," she urged, uncertainty and helpless- 
 ness mingling with anger in her heart and 
 voice. 
 
 Finally he pretended leniency. "Then I will 
 call this evening, when I hope you will choose
 
 THE JUDGMENT 23 
 
 the date for our marriage, and make me, soon, 
 the happiest of men." 
 
 When he had gone, Eleanor stood immovable, 
 her hands clenched together, her wide eyes star- 
 ing ahead. Despair dried her tears, and drove 
 them back to her tortured heart. "Nothing to 
 hope for, nothing, nothing," she whispered, as 
 Dr. Bryan entered. "What is this your mother 
 tells me, Eleanor 1" he asked, half fiercely; but 
 when he saw Eleanor's face, he rushed to her, 
 and tried to draw her to his arms. 
 
 "Don't," she cried wildly, "I cannot bear it. 
 Don't be good to me now. Be like the rest of 
 the world; be a devil!" 
 
 "Eleanor," the old man begged, "listen to 
 me, let your old friend talk. You are not going 
 to do this awful thing. That vile fellow shall 
 never touch your footprints, much less your 
 heart, to bruise and break it." 
 
 1 ' Hush ! ' ' she interrupted, ' ' I must do it. Let 
 my old self die, never try to revive it, only 
 stand by me when you can." 
 
 "Damnable selfishness!" the old man 
 groaned, as the door closed. "That little cur 
 her husband! My God! I'd rather she had 
 died ! Howard ! Our little girl !" He bent be- 
 fore the picture of his friend, and hot tears 
 streamed down his face. 
 
 Mrs. Howard's delight was unbounded. "We
 
 24 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 will have everything now," she told herself, 
 "we can live in luxury; my privations will soon 
 be ended.*' 
 
 Besting happily upon her pillows, the pale 
 color returning to her white face, an after- 
 thought came. "It is the best for Eleanor; she 
 couldn't work, and no doubt she will soon get 
 used to him. I'm very sure I'd like a man who 
 could give me so much." Her thoughts grew 
 rapturous, anticipating the envy of her friends. 
 Her smiling face evidenced the joy that filled 
 her, and left no trace of pity for the girl, fight- 
 ing the unequal struggle between her distorted 
 idea of duty and her outraged sense of maidenly 
 virtue. And Eleanor remained silent; her face 
 grew white and drawn, her lips more tightly 
 closed, her hands were cold and her heart 
 seemed frozen, but she had decided upon her 
 course, and her resolute, bearing proved to those 
 who knew her best, that she would not falter.
 
 CHAPTER n 
 
 "FOR God's sake, Mrs. Howard, stop a mo- 
 ment and think of the horror of this thing! 
 You are condemning Eleanor to a life of misery. 
 I tell you Manning is ruined; his evil habits 
 have poisoned him until his manhood is gone. 
 He has been under my care for years, and I 
 know he is ruined. In her dead father's name, 
 I beg, I implore you, do not force this mar- 
 riage. ' ' 
 
 "Really, Dr. Bryan, I think you excite your- 
 self more than is necessary about this affair of 
 Eleanor's and mine. I am quite sure that you 
 overstate the case. It is most unfortunate that 
 you do not approve Eleanor's choice, but as I, 
 her mother, do most heartily approve it, I 
 fear that you will have to content yourself as 
 best you can," and as she finished, Mrs. Howard 
 sank against her cushions, face and manner 
 showing displeasure at his words. 
 
 This was more than the old man could bear, 
 and his rage burst forth: "Then, at least I'll 
 have the pleasure of telling you once for all 
 what I think of you, Madam, You ruined How- 
 
 95
 
 26 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 ard's life with your petty selfishness, and 
 eternal complaints, and now you would drive 
 Eleanor into a life that is worse than death, and 
 you are doing it to pamper your own selfish 
 little soul. It is as bad as a life of open shame, 
 to drive her into marriage with such a dog as 
 Manning." 
 
 "Silence!" she commanded, rising in fury. 
 
 But he went on: "Yes, it is you who are 
 doing this; doing it that by the sale of your 
 child, you may reap your own harvest. It's a 
 damned shame that such a little soul as yours 
 should be able to bring misery to a noble one 
 like hers." 
 
 
 
 The wedding took place on January tenth. 
 While Eleanor received the wishes for her hap- 
 piness from friends, now eager to express them, 
 with an unbroken calm, her mother was reani- 
 mate with joy, and responded to every con- 
 gratulatory wish as if she were the bride, un- 
 able to hide her rapture. When they had 
 reached the sumptuous car, Eleanor entered 
 like an automaton, with scarcely a glance to 
 the volatile French maid bowing a welcome. 
 Soon the train plowed on through banks of 
 snow and ice, a mighty monster bidding de- 
 fiance to the cruel forces of the biting cold. 
 
 The discreet servants withdrawn, Eleanor 
 and Manning were left alone. He was full of
 
 THE JUDGMENT 27 
 
 eagerness to touch the freshness of the young 
 girl's heart, captured, but not yet won. As he 
 watched the slender form and impassive face 
 before him, he murmured beneath his breath: 
 "My wife not yet." 
 
 He took in anew the beauty of her youth- 
 fulness, while in his selfish heart a kind resolve 
 struggled for life. "As mine, she shall have 
 everything the heart of woman can desire." 
 She met each attention with unmelting coldness ; 
 not once did her face brighten ; the large, brown 
 eyes held no sign of interest, but her gaze rested 
 on the dreary outside landscape. 
 
 The hours passed as if unnoticed by her, but 
 the time seemed interminable to him, rebelling 
 at her coldness, and he again broke the intoler- 
 able silence, "Say something, Eleanor." 
 
 For a moment she did not answer, and then 
 she did not turn her head, and her voice was 
 low and tense, "There is nothing to say." 
 
 "Oh, yes there is," he responded, thankful 
 that the spell of long silence was finally broken. 
 "You might say that everything outside looks 
 cold, or that the wind is blowing, or you might 
 tell me that you love me, as a dear little wife 
 should do." 
 
 As he spoke, he came nearer to her ; his black 
 eyes sparkled, and the blood mounted to his sal- 
 low cheeks. Ominous sign. And as Eleanor 
 saw it, her outraged heart stirred with resent-
 
 28 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 ment, while a waking recognition of its meaning 
 choked her with dread. Fighting hard to con- 
 ceal her fear, she answered : ' l That would not 
 be true." 
 
 He scanned her face intently, thinking how 
 he should proceed, and his thin lips curled, as 
 he promised himself: "I will conquer her, then 
 we shall see." 
 
 With a stern restraint, he decided to make 
 another effort ; this time along impersonal lines : 
 "Beastly winter," he remarked, "but we will 
 meet an early June in Florida. Ever in Flor- 
 ida before?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Lovely climate and fine hotels ; bathing, fish- 
 ing, dancing; everything. Do you like danc- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Not now." 
 
 "You will be charmed with Florida. I hope 
 you brought plenty of pretty clothes. I want 
 my wife to be always well-dressed." 
 
 He waited for the reply which did not come, 
 and then persisted: "Did you buy many pretty 
 things, Eleanor? Your mother promised me 
 to see to that." 
 
 Had he known her better he might have seen 
 a danger signal flash over her face, but to him 
 it was only a blush which pleased him. 
 
 "Did you, Eleanor?" he asked again.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 29 
 
 With a look of supreme scorn, she answered 
 in her coldest tone: "I do not know, I did not 
 examine them." 
 
 All his eff orts to talk to her ending in failure, 
 he fell to watching her as she sat apparently 
 unmoved, her face turned toward the window, 
 as if she might be unconscious of his presence. 
 He bit his lip in rage. "When my time comes, 
 I'll make her pay for this," he snarled beneath 
 his breath. 
 
 The dreary day tired itself out, and withdrew 
 behind the darkening shadows of evening ; night 
 came down, and began to cover the wintry land- 
 scape with her sable cloak. 
 
 Eleanor still sat in the drawing-room gazing 
 out into the night, when Cleo, the French maid, 
 came in, bearing a tray with a dainty service. 
 
 "I think Madame might like a leetle tea, for 
 you have not touch one bite since we have made 
 the start," she explained, settling the service 
 and drawing the blinds. "M'sieur will join 
 you, if him you want," she added, according to 
 Manning's instructions, but as Eleanor gave no 
 answer, he entered uninvited. 
 
 Eleanor could not drink her tea, and the hand 
 that poured it trembled; but Manning's appetite 
 was unimpaired. Her preoccupation did not 
 prevent his enjoyment of the meal. He seldom 
 attempted conversation at the table, for eating
 
 30 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 was there witH him the principal business. No 
 one could fail to see the relish with which he 
 disposed of everything before him, and Eleanor 
 thought with disgust: "How can so small a man 
 devour so large a quantity of food!" He 
 glanced at her, and perhaps her face held some 
 hint of her thoughts, for with a sinister smile 
 he remarked: "My love for you is very great, 
 but as you do not make sufficient return to sus- 
 tain me, I must resort to more material aid." 
 Eleanor turned away without reply, and he 
 promised himself requital: "when my time 
 comes." 
 
 An hour later Cleo entered, and standing by 
 Eleanor 's side with her demure air, said in her 
 soft and broken drawl: "Ze state room ees 
 raidy, Madame, vill you not come?" 
 
 "No you may go, I shall not need you." 
 
 "But Madame ees in need of ze rest," she 
 urged. 
 
 "I prefer to remain here." 
 
 "I can do nothing, M'sieur," Cleo complained 
 to Manning, waiting for the outcome of the in- 
 terview. 
 
 "I will see her," and in a brave assumption 
 of authority, he opened the drawing-room door. 
 The silent figure seemed scarcely to have moved 
 since first they started, and she showed no sign 
 of having noted his entrance.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 31 
 
 "My dear, this will not do; you must have 
 rest; you must go to sleep." 
 "I cannot sleep." 
 "You cannot unless you try. Come, be rea- 
 
 sonable ; let Cleo make you comfortable for the 
 night." 
 
 Eleanor lifted her eyes to him, and a better 
 man would have detected the appeal lying in 
 their depths. "Let me stay here." Manning's 
 irritation was not well controlled. "Confound 
 such obstinacy," he muttered, going back to his 
 stateroom next to hers. 
 
 During the passing hours the roar of the train 
 was the only sound which broke into the still- 
 ness of the night. It was past three o'clock 
 when Cleo came for the third time to beg her 
 mistress to take some rest, but as she reached 
 the door she halted, for Eleanor was standing 
 in the center of the little room, her face drawn 
 with agony. All day roses had filled the warm 
 air of the apartment with a sweetness she had 
 loathed. Oppressed now past endurance, she 
 opened the window, and as if spurning from her 
 some hateful thing, she filled her arms with the 
 flowers and threw them out, then bent her head 
 to the window for the touch of the cold night 
 air to revive her. When Cleo entered, Elea- 
 nor's worn-out body added its craving for rest 
 to the pleading of the insistent maid, and she
 
 32 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 arose to follow her. Not until then did she re- 
 alize the strain under which she had passed 
 the day. Her feet gave way, as she tried to 
 walk; she swayed and fell against the wall. 
 Seeing Eleanor 's pallid face and swaying form, 
 Cleo uttered a piercing scream. ''Madame ees 
 fainting I" she cried, in frightened tones, when 
 Manning hurried towards them. 
 
 "No, I am not fainting; I am perfectly well; 
 I only stumbled from the motion of the train," 
 Eleanor insisted, angry both with herself and 
 the maid for having caused the excitement. 
 
 "No wonder you are faint, you eat nothing, 
 and sit up all night," Manning cried in a tone 
 of impatience. 
 
 Eleanor made no reply, but entered her state- 
 room and surrendered herself to the practiced 
 hands of the maid. 
 
 She was soon again alone in the quiet and 
 darkness of the winter night; alone, but with 
 such thoughts for companions as brought the 
 hot rebellious tears to the aching eyes. Who 
 heard the quivering sobs that shook the slender 
 form, or understood the baptism of agony 
 through which she groped a blinded way, where 
 blighted hopes and girlhood dreams lay dead 
 around her, as she passed to take up this new 
 life? 
 
 It was long in passing, this storm of anguish ;
 
 THE JUDGMENT 33 
 
 and only when the gray dawn began to blush at 
 the ardor of the morning kiss of the rising sun, 
 rest came to her saddened heart. Sleep was so 
 heavy that she lay unconscious of Cleo's en- 
 trance with the morning cup of chocolate. The 
 maid, alarmed at her appearance, hastily sum- 
 moned Manning. A slight hesitation showed 
 in his assured face as he entered the room and 
 stood gazing at the girlish form sunk in sleep. 
 His heart leaped with desire as he leaned above 
 her. The crimson lips were half way parted 
 like a child's in sleep; her face rested on one 
 hand; one long, soft braid of hair lay across 
 her shoulder, while one was crushed beneath 
 her. The full sleeves of the soft, white gown 
 fell back and showed her rounded arms. One 
 hand lay on her breast, its fingers enmeshed in 
 the soft laces of her low-necked gown, as if even 
 in sleep she would guard the entrance to her 
 heart. The rounded breasts rose and fell be- 
 neath the filmy lace, through which the soft, 
 white flesh was dimly seen. The man stood 
 still and gazed, his eyes ravished by the won- 
 drous beauty of the woman. "God, she's 
 mine!" he whispered, and then as if she heard, 
 a quivering sigh issued from her lips, and 
 Eleanor stirred. 
 
 Manning withdrew in haste, giving orders 
 that she should not be disturbed until she
 
 34 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 awakened of her own accord, and while she slept 
 he sat near her door, watching and waiting for 
 the first sign of her awakening. 
 
 The morning hours passed very slowly to him 
 as he waited there, his soul afire with fierce 
 longings for the delicate, fresh beauty of the 
 woman so lately but a child ; and with an impure 
 love he craved the moment when he would sub- 
 due the proud young spirit, and subjugate the 
 sweet young heart. 
 
 When Eleanor awoke, in her youthful 
 strength, refreshed by sleep, life seemed to show 
 a countenance less forbidding. Blessing of 
 youth; to sleep and wake refreshed and 
 strengthened. 
 
 Even the cold winds of the North had during 
 the night's travel become tempered by the 
 milder climate of the upper South ; and looking 
 from her window she saw the river rippling by, 
 unchecked by icy barriers and felt hope stir and 
 arise within her heart. "Let me learn to make 
 the best of it," she whispered to the girl looking 
 at her from the gilt framed mirror. 
 
 Cleo's dextrous hands found it easy to de- 
 stroy the ravages left on her mistress's face by 
 the stress of the night before, and when Eleanor 
 entered the drawing-room, Manning rose with 
 quick, involuntary homage to her beauty. The 
 heavier dress of yesterday had been replaced
 
 THE JUDGMENT 35 
 
 by a gown of dull blue silk; the yoke, which 
 came far down the shoulders, was of creamy 
 satin wrought heavily with golden threads ; the 
 girdle round the slender waist held the same 
 embroidery; the skirt hung straight and full, 
 and fell in graceful folds round her highly 
 arched feet. The dress was simple, but the 
 queer dull color brought out the bronze shades 
 of her hair and enhanced the clear white skin 
 and tinted cheeks. Her glorious brown eyes 
 and scarlet lips added the completing touch to 
 a picture so exquisite as to have stirred to ardor 
 any heart. Yesterday's look of cold restraint 
 had become tempered by the softened expres- 
 sion of hopefulness ; that same which stirs and 
 thrills us all alike till hope itself is dead. 
 
 "I over slept, " she said, looking toward him 
 as she passed into the sumptuous little apart- 
 ment. 
 
 "I trust it rested you," he answered, and ex- 
 tended a chair towards her. "You are just in 
 time for lunch." 
 
 She accepted with half a smile the common- 
 place remark, and the meal proceeded cheer- 
 fully enough, for Manning had determined to 
 redeem his mistakes of yesterday and exerted 
 himself to be agreeable. 
 
 As they traveled, Manning pointed out to her 
 the points of interest along the way. There a
 
 36 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 turbulent stream, whose bank marked the scene 
 of a hard-fought battle of the Civil War; not 
 far away stood an old fort, where an army of 
 gallant Northern soldiers found themselves re- 
 pulsed by the dauntless bravery of their South- 
 ern brothers. Since early youth love for the 
 sunny land of her father's birth and boyhood 
 had filled Eleanor's heart, and these scenes of 
 the long-drawn, hopeless struggle against supe- 
 rior might filled her with vivid interest. "If 
 Dad could be with me," was her involuntary 
 thought; the loving memory of him banished 
 for the time the distastefulness of the present, 
 and made her glow with interest. 
 
 To Manning's eyes the girl was irresistibly 
 lovely in her fresh enthusiasm, and he found a 
 pleasure new and strange to him in adding to 
 it, in pointing out to her the historic scenes 
 which stand as milestones marking our coun- 
 try's onward march. And onward through the 
 Southern States the train made its rapid way, 
 till they found themselves on the borders of 
 that land of perpetual sunshine Florida. 
 
 Eleanor stood with Manning upon the plat- 
 form of the car, while the train sped along 
 through the tangled riot of beauty on each side 
 of the track. 
 
 When the train reached Palm Beach, night 
 had fallen, and they could hear the washing of
 
 THE JUDGMENT 37 
 
 the mighty waves rolling over the sands of the 
 level beach beneath their windows. 
 
 Manning had engaged the most sumptuous 
 suite of rooms in the great hotel, itself a work 
 of art; man's artistic handiwork framed in that 
 of nature. 
 
 Surrounded by luxury, lulled to sleep by the 
 music of the waves, Eleanor lay wrapped in 
 child-like slumber till morning came, and with 
 it, Cleo. ' * Madame vill mees ze sight of ze bath- 
 ers eff she does not rise." 
 
 Through the open windows the soft wind came 
 with gentle greeting from the ocean's breast, 
 and Eleanor caught her breath in wonder at 
 the beauty of the view. 
 
 The bathers raced down the sands to spring 
 like the sea birds into the rippling waves ; sport- 
 ing in the water as if it were their native ele- 
 ment, while on the sands onlookers loitered, 
 bathed in the morning sunshine. 
 
 "M'sieur demands to know if Madame would 
 like a stroll on the beach before breikfus," came 
 Cleo's voice as Eleanor stood at the window. 
 
 "Yes, it is too lovely to stay indoors," she 
 answered, impatient for the warm glory of the 
 sun. In the sitting-room she joined him. His 
 face was eager, too. but not with thoughts of 
 the outside scene. 
 
 As Eleanor advanced, dressed in a modish
 
 38 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 white linen suit, heavy with embroidery, a large 
 white hat shading her face, wherein her soft 
 brown eyes glowed with expectancy which even 
 dislike for him could not entirely hide, Man- 
 ning thought as he greeted her: "Each time I 
 see you, you are more beautiful." 
 
 The blue water and the bluer sky, each with 
 its touch of white in cloud and foam, delighted 
 her throughout the brief stroll. Enjoyment of 
 the simple things of Nature enhanced her 
 beauty and drew in her direction more than one 
 pair of interested eyes. Eleanor did not see 
 this, but Manning knew and realized no pleasure 
 from the fact. 
 
 "I see a number of people are already here," 
 he remarked, strolling back toward the en- 
 trance; "I met the Gordon-Leighs last night. 
 They asked for you, but I told them you were 
 too tired to come down to the dance. No doubt 
 we will meet them to-day. I want you to be the 
 loveliest woman at the dance to-night." His 
 eyes followed her close, and she found it hard 
 to evade them. In his look and manner lay sug- 
 gestion of a hungry animal. He had no ap- 
 preciation to-day for either clouds, sky or sea; 
 his mind was fixed on Eleanor and incidentally 
 upon the other men who watched her. 
 
 At breakfast numerous greetings awaited 
 them from acquaintances arrived before them,
 
 THE JUDGMENT 39 
 
 and like all youth, Eleanor responded to the 
 genial spirit pervading the place, and as a 
 flower opens its heart, responsive to the warm 
 caresses of the sun, her face caught and re- 
 flected the light of the lovely morning, and for 
 a little while hid from her the fact that behind 
 Manning's light and pleasant talk lay the deeper 
 note of passion and suspicious jealousy gleam- 
 ing in his ferret-like eyes at the admiring 
 glances cast her way. 
 
 In her room she found flowers such as it 
 seemed impossible to imagine growing any- 
 where in January ; great, glorious roses, in their 
 fragrance so unlike their frailer sisters grown 
 within the Northern hot houses. 
 
 She caught her breath in sheer delight, her 
 face aglow with wonder. "Ah! the beauty of 
 such a land," she cried, her arms filled with 
 roses, her eyes filled with joy in the beauty thus 
 outspread. "How could one get enough of 
 Florida?" 
 
 Manning's restraint began to gall him. This 
 woman was his wife; must he stand back with 
 ceremonious politeness, waiting for her to in- 
 vite further demonstrations of love? "The 
 roses please you?" 
 
 "Yes, everything here pleases me," she an- 
 swered, with the unconsciousness of a child. 
 
 Something choked him; he swallowed hard.
 
 40 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "And you please me," and coming close he 
 caught her hand, lifted and pressed upon it his 
 hot kisses. Withdrawing from him with nerv- 
 ous haste, she declared: "You crush my roses," 
 and gathered them again into her arms, retiring 
 further into the embrasure of the window. 
 Manning's face grew dark as he watched her 
 retreating form, and the look in his eyes was not 
 a nice one. "My time is coming soon," he 
 whispered to himself, and moistened his hot, 
 dry lips. 
 
 Eleanor spent the greater part of the remain- 
 ing day trying to avoid any further conversa- 
 tion with him. Meeting people from their 
 circle of acquaintances in New York made it 
 easier for her to pass- the time away, and she 
 thought he did not understand her ruse. 
 
 The gay crowds were gathering in the bril- 
 liant ballroom. Eleanor stood before the long 
 mirror in the dressing room, while Cleo put the 
 last deft touches to her toilette. Her evening 
 gown exposed the soft beauty of her neck and 
 shoulders. Her lovely arms were bare. The 
 creamy whiteness of her skin was not more 
 charming than the rounded contour of the arms ; 
 soft and white and dimpled, they needed nothing 
 to enhance their beauty. 
 
 As Cleo was fastening a straying curl which, 
 refusing to remain in the unaccustomed staid-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 41 
 
 ness, fell down and clung like baby fingers close 
 round the small pink ear, Eleanor heard a 
 slight noise behind her, and turning faced her 
 husband. 
 
 His dapper little form was clad in immaculate 
 evening dress, from the stiff white collar and 
 precise tie to the tips of his glistening shoes. 
 His dark hair was plastered close to his small 
 head. His white shirt threw into bold relief 
 the sallow tints of his face, in which now burned 
 ominous dark red stains. 
 
 Eleanor's wide eyes demanded of him expla- 
 nation of this unannounced appearance in her 
 room. 
 
 He laughed with nervousness, but determined 
 to treat his presence as only a matter of course, 
 he came forward, saying: "It is time we went 
 down, so I came to see if you were nearly 
 ready. ' ' 
 
 "I would have sent Cleo to you soon," she 
 answered. 
 
 "But my coming has saved you that trouble, 
 my wife," he broke in smilingly. 
 
 The words and the look accompanying them 
 sent a thrill of something hitherto unknown or 
 only guessed at throughout her being. 
 
 Manning, watching her narrowly, saw her 
 tremble, and at the sight he smiled, then spoke 
 again. "You must have thought it strange that
 
 42 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 I gave you only your diamond pin upon our 
 wedding day. I have something here to ac- 
 company it, but have kept it till now to sur- 
 prise you. Let us see if it suits the pin/' and 
 he held out a square silver box beautifully en- 
 graved, to the handle of which hung a key. 
 
 "The pin?" 
 
 Something showed in Eleanor's face which 
 made him ask, "Where is your pin?" 
 
 "I don't know," she answered, confused. 
 
 "Don't know?" he repeated her words in a 
 tone of inquiry. "Surely you have some 
 knowledge of the whereabouts of your wedding 
 gifts." 
 
 "I forgot it," she explained, as yet too un- 
 versed in duplicity to recognize the usefulness 
 of a discreet prevarication. 
 
 Cleo came forward smiling. "Madame for- 
 gets her jewels, but I naifer do forget," her eyes 
 upraised, appealing for commendation from the 
 excited man. 
 
 "Nice girl," he said under his breath. 
 
 "I haif ze brooch," she said, her smiling face 
 uplifted, indicating by the upward shrug of her 
 shoulders that between herself and Manning lay 
 a mutual understanding of Eleanor's peculiar 
 defections. 
 
 Manning gave her a glance apparently satis- 
 factory, for it brought a pleased smile to her
 
 THE JUDGMENT 43 
 
 flushed face as she hastily produced the missing 
 brooch. 
 
 Though Eleanor witnessed the by-play be- 
 tween her husband and her maid, she did not 
 yet know either of them so well as to catch its 
 full significance. 
 
 "I am sorry I forgot the brooch," she apolo- 
 gized. 
 
 "I hope you may attach more importance to 
 these," he dryly answered, and placed the box 
 upon the table, inserted the key, threw back the 
 top displaying upon the white velvet trays such 
 exquisite diamonds as few women have seen; 
 fewer still possessed. 
 
 ''Oh! how beautiful!" from the enraptured 
 maid, " Madame will be like ze angels of God." 
 
 Manning lifted the sparkling jewels, and with 
 a punctilious: " Allow me," fastened the brace- 
 lets round Eleanor's tapering arms, then around 
 her soft white neck, the glittering jeweled chain. 
 Could the touch of the gold have made her start 
 as if with sudden pain, or was it the contact of 
 the fingers that clasped it which filled her soul 
 with terror?
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ELEANOR had been away four weeks, but even in 
 that short time the improvement in her mother's 
 appearance and health had been marvelously 
 rapid. Happiness is truly a great restorer. 
 
 "When Manning bade her farewell, he slipped 
 a generous bank note into her hand. * ' Stint her 
 in nothing," he had said, and Mrs. Howard took 
 him at his word. The gowns she ordered for 
 the homecoming of the bride were fit for the 
 wardrobe of a queen. ' ' She must have them to 
 be able to hold his love," she argued. 
 
 The adroit French costumers understood their 
 patron, and amid the delicate blues, pinks and 
 greens, they displayed gorgeous brocades of 
 more subdued colorings. " These are too old 
 for her," she answered, while her hands strayed 
 with caressing touch down the soft length of a 
 pale mauve brocade. 
 
 "Ah! but it ees made but for Madame 's self. 
 Peecture yourself in this, touched up with silver. 
 Ah ! but you will be like a girl again. You must 
 not tink alone of ze chile, forgetting always ze 
 sweet beauty of ze mother. Yais, dese soaf 
 clinging robes for her, but ze loafly brocades for 
 you," and Madame proved herself an irresist- 
 
 44
 
 THE JUDGMENT 45 
 
 ible temptress. Invitations and cards poured 
 in and the air was replete with happy congrat- 
 ulations. 
 
 At Manning's home another view of life was 
 being taken. His sisters, Maud and Eva, aged 
 thirty-six and thirty-two, respectively, had un- 
 til now been joint mistresses of his home, and 
 the knowledge of the coming of another to take 
 their place was very galling. 
 
 Mrs. Judith Norton, their aunt, for her own 
 reasons, augmented these feelings of resent- 
 ment, and it was easily seen that Eleanor would 
 get no help or sympathy from any of them. 
 
 Mrs. Norton's rustling gown and costly furs 
 could not mitigate the harshness of a counte- 
 nance like hers. Her dark sallow skin was over- 
 spread with wrinkles ; the Manning eyes in their 
 black beadiness were set close together under 
 her narrow forehead ; her prominent nose shad- 
 owed a mouth with cruel lips. She was tall, 
 and her slight figure showed acute angles de- 
 spite the care of a painstaking dressmaker. 
 
 Maude was almost as tall as Mrs. Norton, 
 but less angular; her dark eyes were like her 
 aunt's, and her mouth was quite as cruel. It 
 shut tight and close as if imprisoning forever 
 the chance expression of a kindly thought. 
 
 Eva was smaller than her sister, and her 
 small light blue eyes lent little charm. Her
 
 46 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 pale brown hair had now lost its youthful yel- 
 low tint in a long since hopeless drab. The 
 Manning mouth was with her, modified by weak- 
 ness. Her nose was her trouble ; it was large, 
 long, hooked and red, and forced her to spend 
 the greater part of her winters indoors. It 
 had always been her despair, and despite her 
 careful powderings and painstaking care, re- 
 mained a torment to its possessor. 
 
 "They say Mrs. Howard had made some very 
 poor investments, and without this marriage 
 to William they would now have almost noth- 
 ing," Eva said. 
 
 "Knowing William as I do," Maude an- 
 swered, "I think she made a bad investment 
 when she chose him as a husband for her 
 daughter." 
 
 "I hope you will not express yourself so 
 freely when he returns, or we will find our- 
 selves reduced to our allowance named in papa's 
 ridiculous will," advised careful Eva. 
 
 "I hear that he will be back within a week," 
 Mrs. Norton remarked. 
 
 "Yes, a short note came this morning," an- 
 swered Maude. "He is having her rooms fur- 
 nished gorgeously, and at great expense. I 
 want you to see them." 
 
 Eva joined in. "He has already spent more 
 on her than on us in all our lives."
 
 THE JUDGMENT 47 
 
 " Yes, but that, you must remember, is a trait 
 of the Manning men. They are always ready to 
 lavish their wealth on their wives, while they 
 are young and fresh. I had the same experi- 
 ence with your father that you are now having 
 with William, and as you know, he gave me al- 
 most nothing. Women, in the Manning family, 
 have always been held of small account as com- 
 pared to the sons and brothers through whom 
 is perpetuated the Manning name and money. 
 I know the bitterness of being put aside for 
 others. If I had not married your Uncle Nor- 
 ton it would have been a hard struggle for me 
 to have maintained my position in society. I 
 hope to see you both well settled in life, but I 
 dread the effects of this unfortunate marriage 
 of William's upon your prospects," and Mrs. 
 Norton folded her hands, waiting for the effect 
 of her words. 
 
 She had never forgiven her brother for hav- 
 ing inherited most of their father's wealth; her 
 resentment had extended to her nephew, and 
 she was determined to encourage in his sisters 
 the feeling of ill will implanted by his marriage, 
 until under her nurturing care it should yield 
 a harvest of revenge. Far down, too, in the 
 recesses of her memory lay the recollection of 
 the time when Joseph Howard, young, hand- 
 some and rich, came to New York. With all
 
 48 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 the coquettish arts of the fully developed spin- 
 ster, she had assailed his heart, only to be met 
 by the crushing announcement of his engage- 
 ment to the young and lovely Miss Williamson, 
 afterward Eleanor's mother. She had unceas- 
 ingly fostered since then an increasing store of 
 vengeful thoughts. 
 
 Maude's black eyes snapped resentfully, and 
 her mouth extended itself into a thin straight 
 line, dividing her face. 
 
 In Eva, resentment seemed less fierce, more 
 spiteful. Her red nose grew redder, and her 
 pale eyes swam in tears. 
 
 "But, my dears," Mrs. Norton continued, 
 "we must remember, even in the midst of our 
 disappointments, to confine ourselves to con- 
 ventional acts, and you should, if you have not 
 already done so, for the sake of appearances, 
 call upon Mrs. Howard." 
 
 "We did, and found her out. We were afraid 
 he would be angry if we did not go." 
 
 "Since he had to marry, it's some little com- 
 fort that he chose a woman from our own set. 
 He might have married some dreadful person. 
 They often do, when they get this marrying 
 craze. I intend to call on Mrs. Howard on my 
 way home this afternoon. Tell me something 
 about the girl. I hear that she is beautiful." 
 
 Maude answered quickly, "I am sure I can-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 49 
 
 not see any signs of beauty in her. The day 
 she was married she looked more like a piece 
 of mechanism than a living woman. Her face 
 was as white as paper, and she was as stiff as 
 if she had been frozen. She seems as cold as 
 ice. I don't believe she has a heart." 
 
 "So she is not handsome? I think I remem- 
 ber her as a very pretty child." 
 
 "Some people might think so; for my part 
 I prefer some animation." 
 
 At Manning's club his surprising marriage 
 still made gossip. A crowd of men loitered 
 round the tables. "I hear that Manning and 
 his young wife are expected back in a few 
 days," said one. 
 
 "That so? They say she is a beauty and 
 very young. Ever see her?" 
 
 "No, not since her father died. She is 
 young, though. Too young, I guess, to know 
 Manning. Wonder how Mademoiselle Follette 
 takes it." 
 
 "I don't know, but I guess it cost Manning 
 something to quiet her." 
 
 ' ' And Mrs. Van Buskirk ! What about her ? ' ' 
 At the laugh following this question an old man 
 put down his paper, revealing himself as Dr. 
 Bryan, and peered over his glasses. 
 
 "Who made the match?" asked the first 
 speaker.
 
 50 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "Her mother, I guess. Howard's money left 
 the country with Johnson Evans." 
 
 "Yes, I heard something of that; and so they 
 went after Manning's. That it, eh?" 
 
 "Guess so," laughed the other man. "Girls, 
 nowadays, are pretty wise, and no doubt this 
 young beauty was as willing as she needs to 
 be." 
 
 Dr. Bryan jumped up, his face purple. "You 
 damned little whipper-snapper," he bellowed, 
 "who are you to be meddling in people's af- 
 fairs ? What do you know about Joe Howard 's 
 daughter? I'll crush the life out of you, if you 
 open your mouth again. If it were not be- 
 neath the dignity of a man to notice you, I 
 would throw you out of the window. Don't let 
 me ever hear you mention the name of Joe How- 
 ard 's daughter again. It is a shame that such 
 creatures as you should live," and Dr. Bryan 
 shook his crumpled paper in the face of the 
 astonished young dandy, rapidly retreating 
 from this unexpected onslaught. 
 
 Still muttering, when he had donned his over- 
 coat, the old man pulled his hat over his eyes, 
 and left the club room in disgust and sorrow. 
 
 When Manning and Eleanor arrived, New 
 York was in the throes of a mighty snow-storm. 
 Eleanor stepped into the carriage, shivering 
 as the cold night wind struck her face.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 51 
 
 Manning was in no pleasant mood ; cold irri- 
 tated him. He gave his orders in harsh tones, 
 and enveloped in his huge fur coat, crouched in 
 a corner of the carriage, blue and trembling. 
 
 The driver lashed his horses to their fastest 
 gait over the slippery pavement, and as she 
 watched the flickering lights through the fall- 
 ing snow, Eleanor felt life's burden fall upon 
 her, harder and heavier than before. 
 
 As they approached, the house was well 
 lighted and the door held open by an obsequious 
 footman. Manning's sisters were waiting in 
 the long drawing-room, where were bright 
 lights and a fireplace filled with leaping flames. 
 
 "Well, girls, here we are," Manning began. 
 
 "Nearly frozen to death, too, I am sure, poor 
 man," from Maude, eager to touch aright her 
 brother's selfish heart. 
 
 Manning advanced towards the fire, and his 
 sisters busied themselves about him. He was 
 too cold to think of the reception they were 
 giving to his bride, as she stood waiting, white 
 and cold, until turning he saw her, and said: 
 "Come to the fire, Eleanor. Girls, here is your 
 new sister. I was so cold I forgot everything." 
 
 They touched Eleanor's cold face with their 
 thin, tightly-drawn lips, and in carefully 
 phrased greeting, declared their delight at her 
 coming. But Eleanor's face did not relax, and
 
 52 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 at the first opportunity she arose, saying: "I 
 am so tired that I would like to go to my 
 rooms." 
 
 "No doubt you are tired," Maude responded, 
 rising to show the way, and as they went up- 
 stairs she said perfunctorily: 
 
 "You find New York very different from 
 Florida, no doubt." 
 
 "Yes, New York seems very cold." 
 
 "Your mother's rooms are ready, but she 
 preferred to wait for your arrival, before she 
 came," Maude went on. "How do you like 
 this?" Eleanor glanced around the beautiful 
 apartments. "William wrote that you liked 
 your dressing-room in Florida, and so he had it 
 copied for you here. I am sure there are not 
 more lovely rooms in all New York." 
 
 "They are certainly very beautiful," Eleanor 
 answered, but there was little animation in her 
 voice. 
 
 "Well, I must not keep you up when you are 
 so tired. I will go, and you can tell us of Flor- 
 ida in the morning," and Maude left her with a 
 hypocritical pretense of kindliness. 
 
 The next day when Eleanor entered the 
 breakfast room she found Manning and his 
 sisters waiting for her. His dark face wore 
 an unusually peevish expression. "I must re- 
 quest you to be prompt in coming to meals,
 
 THE JUDGMENT 53 
 
 Eleanor," he said; ' 'nothing is more distaste- 
 ful to me than having to wait." 
 
 The rebuke acted as a stimulus to Eleanor's 
 jaded spirits, but it gave her no more love for 
 Manning nor for his sisters who heard her re- 
 ceive it. 
 
 Maude's black eyes flashed to Eva's pale 
 ones, a look of pleased intelligence. "Had you 
 informed me as to the breakfast hour," Eleanor 
 answered, "I should not have kept you wait- 
 ing." 
 
 Surprised at the new note in her voice, Man- 
 ning looked at her. Stirred by her beauty, a 
 momentary kindliness flashed through his ill 
 humor, and lent him the grace to say: "Then it 
 is our fault; please forgive the oversight." 
 
 Eva turned to Eleanor. "There are count- 
 less cards and invitations waiting for you. 
 Your hands will be full when you begin to sift 
 them out." 
 
 "I will help you, my dear, when you are 
 ready for that," Manning joined in. "There 
 are some places to which I do not wish you to 
 go, and there are some people whose acquaint- 
 ance I wish you to cultivate." Though Eleanor 
 made slight answer to her husband's remarks, 
 the expression on her face led him to wonder 
 if the crushed young girl might yet develop 
 into a woman hard to manage.
 
 54 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 After breakfast, at his request, Eleanor 
 joined Manning. "I want to discuss with you 
 the final arrangements for your mother's com- 
 ing," he said. "Doubtless you are anxious to 
 be together, and it is with this view that I have 
 selected rooms for her near your own. Would 
 you like to see them?'* 
 
 In the rooms set apart for Mrs. Howard's 
 use Manning had manifested his willingness to 
 repay her for her co-operation in his suit. 
 
 It was a place expressive of comfort and lux- 
 urious ease, and as Eleanor's eyes rested on 
 its beauty she told herself: "This will satisfy 
 mother that she made a good bargain." 
 
 As she did not speak, Manning asked: "Do 
 you think this will please her? She said she 
 wanted it done in lilac." 
 
 "I think it will," she answered slowly, won- 
 dering bitterly how many details of the bargain 
 had been settled without her knowledge. 
 
 When Mrs. Howard arrived and with out- 
 stretched arms rushed to her crying, "My 
 darling child," Eleanor was impressed by the 
 change in her mother's appearance. She was 
 bright and cheerful. Her figure had regained 
 much of its youthful grace and symmetry, and 
 the color glowed in her cheeks almost as if 
 placed there by the expert hands of nature. 
 
 Eleanor instinctively turned away, and a
 
 THE JUDGMENT 55 
 
 spasm of pain crossed her face, thinking of the 
 years to which all these things condemned her. 
 
 Mrs. Howard could see the change wrought 
 in her daughter's face by the past few weeks, 
 hut it was not in her nature to sympathize with. 
 Eleanor's "heroics." She entered into the en- 
 joyment of her softly feathered nest, unmind- 
 full of all hut it, while into Eleanor's heart 
 grew the realization that she was as nothing 
 contrasted to her mother's greed for luxury. 
 
 The following morning Eleanor in her pri- 
 vate sitting-room, was engaged in writing let- 
 ters. Manning had carefully assorted the ac- 
 cumulated invitations, arranging them into two 
 lots. The pile of invitations to be declined was 
 answered, and she had begun on those to which 
 answers of acceptance must be sent. 
 
 Her mother entered and began to talk. "I 
 am glad that Dr. Bryan has not had the im- 
 pertinence to call on us after the way in which 
 he talked to me, when you were married." 
 
 Eleanor raised her head and said: " Talked 
 to you, mother; when and what did he say?" 
 Then followed an account, colored to Mrs. How- 
 ard's fancy, of the conversation with the Doc- 
 tor. "Promise me, Eleanor, that if he calls 
 you will refuse to see him." 
 
 Eleanor looked at her for a moment, and at 
 last asked coldly: "Do you mean to ask me to
 
 56 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 refuse to see father's best friend, and my only 
 one? I shall certainly not do so. If I did not 
 have him to care for me, I should be more 
 friendless than I am. Ask something else, 
 mother. "
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE Lenten season, with its assumption of de- 
 mureness, descended upon society, and afforded 
 a rest to the jaded devotees of fashion. There 
 were fewer entertainments, but the " smaller" 
 evenings brought to the frivolous that distrac- 
 tion without which life to them would lose its 
 interest. 
 
 In her anxiety that Eleanor should prove a 
 success in society, Mrs. Howard noticed with 
 increasing alarm her daughter's unconcealed 
 disgust at the flagrant flirtations of many of 
 the women whom she met. 
 
 "You must not show your feelings so plainly, 
 Eleanor," her mother said, disapproving her 
 bare civility of the day before, when Mrs. Van 
 Buskirk had called at the Manning home. 
 
 "Do you mean that I should pretend to be 
 glad to see her? No woman could behave more 
 shamelessly than she." 
 
 "You can't help what she does, and if you 
 continue to snub her, as you have been doing, 
 people will say that you are jealous of her. 
 Indeed, they are saying so now." 
 
 "I, jealous of a woman like that? How can 
 anyone imagine it?" Eleanor spoke coldly. 
 
 61
 
 58 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "Why, William, of course." 
 
 "And what of him?" 
 
 "Well, if you must know, everyone says he 
 was on very friendly relations with her last 
 winter. Everybody knows it, and talks about 
 it, and if you don't receive her pleasantly, they 
 will say you are jealous. You must exert your- 
 self to hold William's love; use all your attract- 
 iveness and your beauty, and meet him with 
 smiles. He will begin to see that other men 
 may admire you. This will make him love you 
 more, and he may let that woman go ; but unless 
 something new comes out, you will have to treat 
 her more cordially." 
 
 "Mother! Mother! how can you talk so? 
 Are wealth and social position the only things 
 worth living for? I cannot endure the woman, 
 or the kind of society in which she moves, and 
 you tell me that I must associate with her for 
 the sake of society. I thought I had made suf- 
 ficient sacrifice when I married to please 
 you" 
 
 But here her mother interrupted. "Such 
 tirades are in very bad taste, Eleanor, you must 
 learn to overlook many things tolerated by 
 older and wiser ones than you, or you will 
 certainly lose' the place William has given 
 you." 
 
 Manning had planned to make their first for-
 
 ,THE JUDGMENT 59 
 
 mal entertainment a large ball during Easter 
 week. The weather was particularly fine. 
 
 Eleanor was dressed in soft clinging satin of 
 a creamy tint, enhancing her calm stateliness, 
 as she stood at her husband's side to receive 
 their guests. 
 
 "Heavens! Look at her!" Maude gasped, 
 in unexpected outburst at Eleanor's beauty. 
 
 "Look, Maude, look! When he buys pearls 
 like those it means that we will not get much." 
 And Eva clutched Maude's large bare arm with 
 energy. 
 
 "Don't pinch my arm off about it," snapped 
 Maude. 
 
 As the guests arrived, Eleanor greeted them 
 with composed cordiality ; that cordiality which 
 we assume when we wish to blind the world 
 to the cold indifference beneath. Only once 
 throughout the evening did her face brighten 
 into anything like warmth; when Dr. Bryan 
 bowed with old-time courtliness above her out- 
 stretched hand. 
 
 When Mrs. Norton came, her face showed 
 that she had lost none of the acidity of her tem- 
 perament. She bestowed upon Eleanor a 
 searching scrutiny, then lifted her voice to a 
 tone distinctly audible throughout the crowded 
 room: "Ah, my dear, how are you? Quite like 
 a South Sea Island princess, I see. How are
 
 60 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 you, William? Feeling better than you look, I 
 hope.*' And passing on to Mrs. Howard, who 
 stood a few steps beyond her daughter, she 
 grasped her hand, and holding it fast, to pre- 
 vent an escape before the conclusion of her re- 
 marks, said, while everyone listened: "Good 
 evening, Mrs. Howard, I hardly knew you, you 
 are looking so remarkably improved. You have 
 undoubtedly secured a new maid lately. What 
 a genius she is, to be sure." Perfectly aware 
 of the close attention of the amused onlookers, 
 the old woman went on "You must tell us 
 how you were able to secure this treasure. Ah, 
 no? then it leaves us with only our imagination 
 to enlighten us," and she passed on delighted 
 at the storm of rage she left in Mrs. Howard's 
 face. 
 
 Maude and Eva saw her coming. They had 
 heard her remarks, and were eager to propiti- 
 ate her at least into leniency towards them- 
 selves. As she looked around at the profuse 
 floral decorations, she snorted with rage, and 
 turned to Maude, saying: "Perfectly disgust- 
 ing, such display! I never saw anything like 
 it. Simply ridiculous!" Then looking at Eva, 
 and pretending to lower her voice as if it were 
 intended for Eva's ears alone, she said: "Poor 
 child! Do powder your nose. It is a perfect 
 beet."
 
 THE JUDGMENT 61 
 
 The house was filled with hundreds of guests ; 
 music floated softly from an invisible band, and 
 the hum of eager voices was heard everywhere. 
 Presently a stir began, and amid that subdued 
 hush which indicates expectancy, somebody 
 whispered loudly: "It is Mrs. Van Buskirk, I 
 wonder how they will take it?" and many eager 
 eyes turned toward the door. 
 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk came in, three masculine 
 satellites accompanying her. She was a woman 
 of voluptuous beauty. Her black curling hair 
 was gathered high on her head, and in its dark- 
 ness shone a coronet of diamonds. Her skin 
 was neither dark, nor fair, but soft, warm and 
 glowing, shading from creamy tints into bril- 
 liantly red cheeks and lips. Her white shoul- 
 ders were more than generously displayed, but 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk seemed not to mind, and her 
 escorts appeared well pleased. Her gown of 
 red satin was overhung with tulle, and floated 
 and hung and swayed round her beautiful figure 
 as if caressing its enticing curves. Scarlet, 
 flaming red from head to foot, she stood as if 
 encased in flames, the diamonds on her breast 
 and head like sparks of fire. Her head was 
 thrown back, as she stood a moment in laugh- 
 ing conversation in the doorway, that all might 
 see her entrance. 
 
 As she advanced towards the hostess, her
 
 62 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 black eyes rested on Eleanor for a short mo- 
 ment, then turned and fastened themselves on 
 Manning. A smile hovered round the beauti- 
 ful mouth, made for ardent kissing, and a 
 world of burning, glowing love, seemingly 
 sprang into life and irradiated her face, now 
 like a siren's calling to the heart of the man 
 for whom she longs. 
 
 Eleanor saw the sudden response that sprang 
 into Manning's face at the open challenge of 
 the woman. "Shameless!" cried her outraged 
 soul, but sternly repressing the outraged feel- 
 ings that struggled for freedom, she turned to 
 greet the woman looking into her eyes with 
 smiling insolence. 
 
 When Mrs. Norton remarked aloud as Mrs. 
 Van Buskirk passed her, ''She is out in char- 
 acter to-night, * The Scarlet Woman ', ' ' her com- 
 panion, an old grey haired man tittered aloud. 
 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk turned to meet Mrs. Nor- 
 ton's attack her eyes sparkling with the enjoy- 
 ment of her retort, ' ' They say that the beauti- 
 ful bride resembles her father. Is that so, 
 Mrs. Norton? You doubtless remember him 
 best," and laughing at the old woman's en- 
 raged face, she entered the ballroom. 
 
 Meanwhile, half way secluded from the 
 crowd, behind the partly drawn draperies of a 
 large window, stood Charles De Witte, the cele-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 63 
 
 brated painter of female beauty. His face was 
 fairly aglow with delight as he watched his 
 hostess: "What beauty! What a joy to paint 
 her!" A woman turned her head, laughing: 
 "Can you do it better than her maid, young 
 man?" she inquired, for it was Mrs. Norton, 
 whose rancorous tongue seemed ever ready to- 
 night with venom-tipped remarks. 
 
 De Witte turned to her, and said warmly: 
 "Mrs. Norton, I see you confound the craft of 
 man with the handiwork of God." 
 
 "And you are reaching an age, Madame, 
 when it would be well to familiarize yourself 
 with some of His wonderful works," rejoined 
 Dr. Bryan, another witness of the scene. 
 
 Mrs. Norton was the Doctor's pet aversion, 
 and he was as cordially disliked by her. "How 
 much about it do you know, if one might in- 
 quire?" she tartly responded. His reply was 
 immediate: "At least enough to prevent my 
 mistaking for it some objectionable products 
 of his Satanic Majesty, when I meet them;" 
 and with a profound bow, the old man passed 
 on. 
 
 The guests began to leave, and in the crowded 
 rooms it became easier to move about. 
 
 Mrs. Norton had missed Manning, and the 
 bright spot of color made by Mrs. Van Bus- 
 kirk's red gown. Somewhere, she knew, they
 
 64 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 were together. Far back in the dimly-lit con- 
 servatory, was a small grotto-like corner ob- 
 scured by screens of palms. Even the most in- 
 discreet would have thought twice before choos- 
 ing it as a rendezvous, but with the sureness of 
 a bird of prey, Mrs. Norton sought it. A 
 slight sound caught her ear. "I thought so," 
 she exulted, and stood listening awhile, then 
 boldly entered, discovering Mrs. Van Buskirk 
 on a low seat, Manning's arms around her, as 
 she rested against him. 
 
 In the darkness they could at first recognize 
 her only by her voice. "Nice scene! very nice 
 indeed! It's a great pity that you two married 
 people should each be married to someone 
 else." 
 
 "You meddlesome old devil !" Mrs. Van Bus- 
 kirk cried, rising from her seat. 
 
 "Do you know by what name society calls 
 you?" Mrs. Norton raved, her voice growing 
 louder. 
 
 "For God's sake, Aunt Norton, don't make 
 a scene. Think of the family. Don't speak so 
 loud, I beg of you," Manning entreated. 
 
 "And I must think of the family, must I? 
 How about you, William? Quite unnecessary 
 for you to think of anyone I suppose. Your 
 loving new wife for instance. How will she 
 like an account of this? And your mother-in-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 65 
 
 law, William. Think of your mother-in-law, 
 and of her reproachful tears, " her laugh was 
 as full of maliciousness as of unholy glee. 
 "To think of your falling from your virtuous 
 married state you, William, the possible father 
 of a family! What an example!" She barred 
 their way, and went on "Have you thought 
 what an example you are giving your wife? 
 With her beauty, and the admiration of your 
 men friends, do you not suppose she may have 
 a chance to follow it!" 
 
 "For mercy's sake let's go. She can't do any 
 worse if she follows us through the rooms 
 preaching virtue," Mrs. Van Buskirk snapped. 
 
 "For God's sake, keep quiet, Aunt Norton, 
 and you can command me in anything," Man- 
 ning begged as he passed her, but he only re- 
 ceived her assurance "I'll be quiet as long as 
 it suits me, William ; you can buy some women, 
 but you can't buy me." 
 
 The next day when Manning came down to 
 breakfast, his face was sullen and his eyes 
 puffed. He glanced at Eleanor, trying to guess 
 whether or not his aunt had told her, but there 
 was nothing in her face to show she knew. 
 
 Mrs. Howard never came down to breakfast, 
 but Maude and Eva straggled in; Maude evi- 
 dently in a bad humor, and Eva looking as if 
 she had spent the night in tears.
 
 66 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "What's the matter with you? Yon both 
 look as cross as I ever saw you," their brother 
 asked. Maude made no reply, but Eva, afraid 
 to remain silent, said, "I am sick." 
 
 "Better see a doctor." After a few mo- 
 ments, he went on: "Sick! So am I. Sick as 
 the devil of this foolishness. I wish I'd never 
 heard of the damned ball." He gave his wife 
 a furious glance, indicating that with her lay 
 the blame. 
 
 "Why don't you talk, Eleanor. Can't you 
 do anything but sit there with that infernal 
 superior smile on your face? Say something," 
 he raved. 
 
 "Good morning," she said, and rising left 
 the room. "Damnation!" was what he sent 
 after her. 
 
 After breakfast, the sisters found Eleanor in 
 the library. 
 
 "Are you not too tired to read?" Maude 
 asked, sinking into a sleepy hollow chair. 
 
 "No, I am not so tired as I thought I should 
 be. I slept well." 
 
 "Well, I didn't. I had a perfectly horrid 
 night. I did not enjoy the ball in the least, 
 besides, did you notice how many of the women 
 were drunk?" 
 
 "I noticed some peculiar behavior," Eleanor 
 answered.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 67 
 
 "Well, I should think so ; both Mrs. Van Bus- 
 kirk and that Martin woman tried to empty 
 every punch bowl in the house. Mrs. Martin 
 reeled as she walked. Everyone noticed her, 
 though she wasn't the only one who took too 
 much champagne. Mrs. Van Buskirk openly 
 says that she only takes enough wine to make 
 her feel good, and look pretty, but the only rea- 
 son she is never very drunk is that she is drink- 
 ing all the time." 
 
 Eva chimed in, "I am sure, Eleanor, I can't 
 see how you could fail to notice the state many 
 of them were in. It took three men to put Mrs. 
 Martin into her carriage. I saw it myself." 
 
 "Perhaps I am not observant," Eleanor re- 
 plied, unwilling to discuss the subject. 
 
 "I have often thought you so, but if after 
 last night, considering all there was to see, 
 your eyes are still closed, you are more than 
 unobservant, you are blind." While Maude 
 spoke with unpleasant meaning, Eleanor only 
 smiled, for she was learning daily. 
 
 An hour later, Maude alone in the library 
 was absently watching the flames in the grate, 
 when Mrs. Norton entered. "I took my morn- 
 ing drive, as usual, even though I was up so 
 late, and thought I'd come in to see how you 
 are. What is the matter ? You look as though 
 you had lost your last friend."
 
 68 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "I couldn't lose what I never had," Maude 
 answered moodily. 
 
 "Yes, you have one friend, Maude; myself. 
 This, of course, is unusual, since we are related, 
 but as you cannot interfere with me and I 
 would not do so with you, we can safely be 
 friends. I shall speak plainly to you. Are we 
 in danger of being interrupted? Where is that 
 girl?" 
 
 ' ' She went for a drive from which I wish she 
 might never return. I hate her." 
 
 "I know you do, and everyone else will soon 
 know it if you show it as plainly as you are 
 doing now. Have you any claim on Charles 
 DeWitte?" 
 
 Maude's face crimsoned at this sudden read- 
 ing of her secret. "N-o," she stammered. 
 
 "It is as plain as day that you are infatuated 
 with him, and it is also plain that he is going 
 to become infatuated with this sister-in-law of 
 yours." 
 
 Maude was unprepared and her jealousy 
 broke loose, as she sobbed, "Oh, I hate herl I 
 wish she was dead." 
 
 "Yes, but don't be a fool. Do something; 
 sit up and listen." When she had heard a 
 complete account of her brother's stolen meet- 
 ing with Mrs. Van Buskirk 
 
 "But I don't see how this can hurt her, Aunt
 
 THE JUDGMENT 69 
 
 Norton. You know she cares nothing for Wil- 
 liam," she urged. 
 
 "You don't? Then you have no sense. 
 Can't you see that he is going back to the Van 
 Buskirk woman, and that there is no telling 
 how it will end!" 
 
 "Yes, but" 
 
 "Don't say 'but' to me," interrupted her 
 aunt. "We can break up this marriage if we 
 go about it right." 
 
 ' ' I don 't care if she keeps William forever, ' ' 
 Maude cried, again breaking into angry weep- 
 ing, "if she only" 
 
 "Poor fool!" Her aunt cast the words at 
 her as though they were stones : "You mean she 
 can have William, but that you want DeWitte. 
 We all know that; but if you are not careful, 
 she will soon have DeWitte and William too, 
 and then where will you be?"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 "A GREAT compliment was paid you last night, 
 Eleanor. DeWitte wants to paint your portrait 
 for the next exhibition," Manning said to his 
 wife, as the family sat together at the luncheon 
 table. 
 
 "How perfectly lovely," Mrs. Howard ex- 
 claimed, "and how envious all the women will 
 be. Of course you said 'yes' William?" 
 
 "Yes, I thanked him, and promised that the 
 sittings should begin at once." 
 
 "But I do not care for r.otoriety. I do not 
 want a portrait of myself exhibited." Eleanor 
 spoke for the first time. There was displeasure 
 in her voice at being so lightly considered. 
 
 Mrs. Howard reached out a warning hand, at 
 Manning's quick look of irritation, and she tried 
 to cover Eleanor's displeasure by saying: "Of 
 course, Eleanor, you wish the painting made." 
 
 "I intend to buy it if he will sell it, provided 
 I like the work," Manning responded. Eleanor 
 knew she must agree to whatever her husband 
 demanded, but there was something that made 
 her stipulate that Manning purchase it after 
 the exhibition. 
 
 70
 
 THE JUDGMENT 71 
 
 No one noticed the painful intensity of 
 Maude's expression, or the eagerness with 
 which she waited for Eleanor's reply. Like a 
 burning match applied to powder, her brother's 
 words had set on fire her smoldering jealous 
 hatred. She rose before the meal was finished, 
 and went to her room. 
 
 Since the scene with her in the conservatory, 
 on the night of the ball, Manning had appar- 
 ently forgotten Mrs. Van Buskirk, and gave 
 more attention to Eleanor, but Mrs. Van Bus- 
 kirk had not despaired. "I will give him a 
 year or so," she said, laughing at his desertion 
 of herself. The sight of a man devoting his 
 time to his own wife to the exclusion of other 
 women, she declared, was to her unusually re- 
 freshing, but she never failed to leave the poi- 
 soned hint that Manning's close attendance on 
 his wife emanated from suspicion of her con- 
 duct. And all the time Eleanor beat against the 
 network of deceit around her, and rebelled 
 against her bondage to the man she now de- 
 spised. 
 
 Alternately kind and unreasonably cruel; 
 jealous over nothing, Manning seemed ever on 
 the watch for hidden meanings in her every 
 glance at other men; then in dejected repent- 
 ance returned to her, declaring his unworthi- 
 ness. Once he had told her in one of these
 
 72 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 moods, "When you give me a son, I will be so 
 happy, I will never again mistreat you." They 
 were returning from a ball at the Overton 
 home. Tired out, Eleanor leaned her head 
 against the softly cushioned carriage, and was 
 half way asleep when awakened by Manning's 
 kisses upon her face. "Look up at me, my 
 girl; look up and let me see your face. To 
 think that you are mine, all mine," and again 
 he covered her face and hair with passionate 
 kisses. "Don't you see that I never have eyes 
 for anyone else now, Eleanor! Of course, I 
 know you know of the talk concerning Mrs. Van 
 Buskirk, but there has been nothing between us 
 now for some time and there never will be 
 any more if you are good. I say, Eleanor, I 
 want to settle down ; have our own family ; our 
 own children. I am anxious for a son. I want 
 my name handed down. I am the last of the 
 family. Give me a son, and I will be your will- 
 ing slave, yours and his." 
 
 "Do you think our life would be good sur- 
 roundings for them, if we had children?" 
 Eleanor asked in a muffled tone, while over her 
 heart swept recollections of the many open in- 
 sults and covert insinuations she had endured 
 since entering this man's home, at his hands 
 and those of his spitefully jealous sisters. 
 
 "As for that," he replied, "I promise you
 
 THE JUDGMENT 73 
 
 now that when this happiness is mine, I will 
 provide another home for Maude and Eva. 
 From that day you shall have no wish unfilled ; 
 your mother shall be amply provided for, and 
 you shall live in perfect happiness if my love, 
 my gratitude and my wealth can secure it for 
 you. Ah ! Eleanor, I beg you, make me the hap- 
 piest of men, and make me so, soon." 
 
 
 
 George Overton was a business man, en- 
 grossed in making money. Between him and 
 the uplifted soulfulness of his wife existed little 
 of the atmosphere she loved. She disdained his 
 sordid occupation, and refused to interest her- 
 self in the details of his business, declining to 
 sink to anything more mundane than freely 
 spending the money he made. She was ever 
 on the search for sympathy and understanding 
 of her heart-to-heart communings ; for one who 
 might afford a safe and willing listener to the 
 outpourings of her misunderstood and unap- 
 preciated soul. "Mrs. Oversoul," the jest of 
 a sarcastic friend, fitted so well that the name 
 was adopted. Her parlors, one afternoon, were 
 more than usually filled, when Eleanor and her 
 mother entered. 
 
 At one side stood Mrs. Van Buskirk, sur- 
 rounded by the usual crowd of men. Among 
 them was Charles DeWitte. As Eleanor passed
 
 74 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 them, he remarked: "There goes the most 
 beautiful of living women." Mrs. Van Bus- 
 kirk turned to him a mocking face. "Do not 
 throw away your admiration on that iceberg. 
 Her heart is a desert waste; no man can live 
 there." DeWitte audaciously replied: "Per- 
 haps he who might have lived therein had been 
 previously blighted in a more torrid clime." 
 
 In the laugh that followed, Mrs. Van Buskirk 
 joined, for she was not sensitive. She turned 
 to Robert Van Arsdale, crying in mock distress : 
 "Rescue me, oh, Bobby of the curling locks, 
 from the unjust attacks of this sharp-tongued 
 slanderer." 
 
 Mrs. Overton, chatting with Eleanor and 
 Mrs. Howard, heard the laughter, and cried, 
 "Come over here, all of you, and tell us the 
 cause of your merriment," lifting her great 
 blue eyes appealingly to DeWitte's face. 
 
 "You wouldn't understand, it's all in plain 
 English," laughed back Mrs. Van Buskirk, in 
 an effort to keep DeWitte away, but as he 
 moved forward, Mrs. Van Buskirk followed, her 
 crowd trailing behind her. 
 
 Just as the women greeted each other, Bobby 
 Van Arsdale turned to John Hilbrandt and 
 asked, under his breath: "What is the differ- 
 ence between Mrs. Van Buskirk and Mrs. Man- 
 ning?"
 
 THE JUDGMENT 75 
 
 Hilbrandt, taking it literally, anwered: 
 "Why, by Jove, there is lots of difference. I 
 don't think they are at all alike." Bobby 
 laughed in glee, then turned to Mrs. Gordon 
 Leigh, repeating his question. Propound- 
 ing conundrums was Bobby's chief de- 
 light. 
 
 She answered quickly, "Why, Manning, of 
 course." 
 
 "I love to have my conundrums guessed," 
 said Bobby. 
 
 "Don't call that a conundrum, Bobby, a blind 
 man could answer that." 
 
 "It is not fair," cried Mrs. Van Buskirk, 
 "for you two to be whispering there behind our 
 backs; I will not permit it." 
 
 "You wouldn't like it any better if we made 
 our remarks aloud," half whispered Bobby, in 
 laughing impudence. 
 
 A frown gathered on Mrs. Van Buskirk 's 
 beautiful brow, as the thought stirred, that per- 
 haps they were beginning to laugh at her more 
 than she would like. 
 
 In the short silence, Mrs. Overton grasped the 
 opportunity to capture DeWitte's attention. 
 Her hands clasped each other, her shoulders 
 rose as she cried in her intense way: "Oh, that 
 last afternoon in your studio! I can never 
 forget it. My soul was lifted, and borne away
 
 76 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 on dream wings to realms of joy. Let there be 
 another soon," and her blue eyes clung to his, 
 as if they would never release him. 
 
 DeWitte was surely not laughing at his 
 hostess, but his mouth struggled hard with its 
 desire to twitch, and in his eyes little imps of 
 laughter danced, but "Mrs. Oversoul" did not 
 see it. She heard her own voice, and in her 
 ears it was always sweet. She continued : " Ah ! 
 for a soul like yours ! What joy ! Each thrill, 
 each bound of your heart awakening to newer 
 and grander achievements. We can but grovel 
 and admire; adore and cherish the glowing 
 spark that in you lives. Oh, say it now ! Tell 
 us that you will never withdraw it from our 
 enraptured eyes. Say that the masterly work 
 of your genius may ever remain our own, for 
 our hearts are bleeding with your threat of 
 leaving us for Germany." Mrs. Overton's face 
 was raised close to DeWitte 's, who stood for 
 the instant, unable to reply. Then bowing low, 
 he answered her in a laughing voice: "Then 
 bleed no more, dear heart, for I have decided to 
 remain to attempt to paint from the most lovely 
 model in the world. With such an one, what 
 man could fail?" As he spoke, he indicated 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "Mrs. Manning!" cried Mrs. Overton, and 
 her figure straightened instantly; all the ardor
 
 THE JUDGMENT 77 
 
 left her voice, making room for the leaping 
 green-eyed monster come to life. 
 
 "Mrs. Manning?" echoed Mrs. Buskirk; but 
 her voice was calmer, and through its liquid 
 notes, a ripple of malicious laughter broke. 
 "Ah, indeed! does William know?" DeWitte 
 turned to the speaker, in his eyes a warning to 
 a more careful woman. "I owe my good for- 
 tune to him. It is through his request, that Mrs. 
 Manning consents to sit for me. The only 
 blight to my pleasure is that she has coupled 
 her consent with the unkind condition that I 
 must sell the picture to her husband after it is 
 exhibited. ' ' 
 
 "So sweet of you, dear child," Mrs. Van Bus- 
 kirk cooed to Eleanor, "to have thought of this 
 for William. How he will enjoy the beautiful 
 picture," and again she laughed, as she turned 
 away. 
 
 On the homeward drive, her mother said: 
 "Wasn't it funny, Eleanor, to see Mrs. Over- 
 ton's and Mrs. Van Buskirk 's jealousy when 
 Mr. DeWitte spoke of the picture. I was so 
 amused." 
 
 "Were you?" 
 
 "Why, didn't you notice it?" Mrs. Howard 
 was surprised. 
 
 "I cannot find it diverting to see and know 
 that everything and everybody is vile and base.
 
 78 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Most of the women we know are depraved ; the 
 men are the same. Everything is lost sight of 
 except the one great struggle for position, place, 
 supremacy and money; there is no friendship, 
 nothing true or good." 
 
 "Why, child, what foolish words. Why 
 should you care? Of course, the world is all 
 alike, but you have everything to make you 
 happy. They only envy you, and if you are 
 very careful, I do not think that William will 
 go back to Mrs. Van Buskirk. Of course, you 
 must be cautious, and of late I have thought 
 you were not " Her daughter interrupted 
 her. 
 
 "Do you think I care for that! What is he 
 to me?'* 
 
 Mrs. Howard broke in irritably: "Oh, 
 Eleanor, don't talk so insanely. If you have 
 not the sense to be thankful for all you have 
 gained, I will be thankful for both." 
 
 In silence, Eleanor's thoughts ran on. What 
 is the difference between us? Am I better than 
 they? They live in secret shame with other 
 women's husbands; I, in no less shame with a 
 man from whom my heart turns in revolt. Is 
 he in reality my husband, for whom I feel dis- 
 gust, contempt and hatred ? What is marriage ? 
 Is it this enslavement of the physical man or 
 woman, which leaves the heart to search the
 
 THE JUDGMENT 79 
 
 world, and freely take a dearer one, or is it 
 ever a living bondage of true souls ! ' ' 
 
 When an envious woman makes gifts to the 
 servants of another woman, it generally means 
 that she is getting that for which she pays. 
 As a rule, the more envious the woman, the 
 more generous is the pay ; - but as Cleo left 
 Maude's room, something round and shining 
 in her hand, she muttered: "Ah! she ees 
 steengy! Aixcep for me, what could she do? 
 Ond but dis leetle piece for all I haf tole her. 
 Eet ees as nutting, and eef dis ees all, I vill 
 vatch no more." 
 
 Within her room sat Maude, a deep frown on 
 her brow, her chin resting in her palm, her el- 
 bow on the table beside her. Before her were 
 the cards Cleo had brought. "Charles De- 
 Witte" was engraved upon them all, and the 
 name stared upward with cruel distinctness into 
 Maude's jealous eyes. The flowers came each 
 morning, and Eleanor usually received them 
 herself. She made no effort to conceal the 
 cards which accompanied them, and Cleo had 
 found it easy to collect them, and make it ap- 
 pear an important discovery when she dis- 
 played to Maude her hands filled with them. 
 
 Servants soon learn to read their masters' 
 faces; their barometers of good and bad 
 weather; and to convert to their own interests
 
 80 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 the emotions mirrored therein; and the maid's 
 agile touch played on the vibrating chords of 
 her patron's jealousy, until she changed the 
 jarring strains into song that was sweet to 
 Cleo's ears, the musical tinkle of gold. 
 
 Since the commencement of the portrait, 
 Maude had suffered all the pangs of jealous 
 rage. Each time Eleanor left the house for 
 DeWitte's studio, Cleo sought Maude with the 
 information, and from her face gathered the 
 knowledge that she had found her best market. 
 "Eet ees to ze studio zat she again goes, 
 M'amselle," Cleo began, returning an hour 
 later, unable to relinquish the hope of an in- 
 creased generosity upon her patron's part. 
 
 Then Cleo determined to make her grand 
 stroke: "Eet ees to M'sieur you must go, 
 M'amselle. Eet cannot be zat he knows of ze 
 many visits and ze long time of zem zat she 
 stay. Eet would ruin her eef him you tell of 
 eet," and Cleo's eager eyes exhibited vindictive 
 dislike for her young mistress, displaying as 
 well, her perfect understanding of Maude 's feel- 
 ings. 
 
 Incensed already, and made more so by this 
 assured reading of her mind, Maude spoke an- 
 grily: "You are insolent, girl. How dare you 
 speak so to me?" 
 
 Cleo quailed under the angry eyes, until she
 
 THE JUDGMENT 81 
 
 saw that the tears were not far away, and then 
 began, speaking rapidly, her shoulders, up- 
 raised, her hands clasped: "But ah! forgif me, 
 M'amselle, eef I haf done not ze right, eet ees 
 for you alone I speak. Wen I see zat your 
 place she haf here taken, pushed you aside, and 
 zat she now deceive you all, I cannot keep silent. 
 Eet ees all for you. You haf to me been ze 
 angel of goodness, must I zen keep all zat I 
 so plainly see from your generous eyes? You, 
 who are all goodness, cannot suspect, I haf 
 see eet so long zat I but now forget myself. 
 Ah! eef I you displease zen I despair. But, no 
 more vill I speak ; no, nef air vill I again offend. 
 Wretched girl am I, eef you forgif me not, but 
 my h-e-a-r-t, eet ees breaking ! I cannot no 
 a-h," and the incoherent voice was drowned in 
 sobs, as Cleo turned to leave the room. 
 
 Maude watched her, until she reached the 
 door, then called: "Come back, Cleo, don't cry. 
 I do not want to hurt your feelings. You shall 
 tell me what you like," but Cleo sobbed on: 
 "No, M'amselle, nef air vill I again offend. 
 Nefair vill I speak, eef I haf lose your lofe zen 
 to me zair ees nutting lef! Let me go. My 
 heart eet ees sad," and she laid her hand on 
 the door, her shoulders shaking, her voice 
 broken with sobs. 
 
 Maude knew she could not let her go, and so
 
 82 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 did Cleo. Without her help, what could she 
 learn of Eleanor's movements. There was, 
 therefore, nothing to do but succumb to an un- 
 natural generosity, and give to Cleo the reward 
 she had earned. As she pressed the glittering 
 pieces into the girl's hands, Maude's eyes were 
 a warning, but Cleo cared nothing for that. 
 She had her pay at last, and more than she had 
 hoped for. 
 
 The smiles with artful slowness drove back 
 her grief. "Eet ees not ze gole zat I care for; 
 eet ees zat you vill not remove from me your 
 precious lofe. I but take ze monie because eet 
 ees from you. Always shall I keep eet. Al- 
 ways shall I lofe you, M'amselle. Your Cleo 
 forever, M'amselle, am I. Ah! but my heart 
 ees now again in happiness, zat you will forgif 
 me." 
 
 With the door between them everything was 
 changed. Maude sank back into her chair in 
 sullen defeat. "That she should dare to speak 
 so to me I How I hate Eleanor ! ' ' 
 
 Once outside, Cleo's black eyes seemed to 
 pierce the closed door. The simulated grief 
 was entirely gone, as she looked at the gold, and 
 laughed: "Who did vin, M'amselle, you or I? 
 I think eet vill be always Cleo," and she ran 
 down the hall.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 83 
 
 "William, can you meet me in my sitting- 
 room?" Maude asked her brother, as they left 
 the luncheon table. 
 
 She was prepared for him when he entered, 
 and indicated a chair near her writing desk, 
 standing open. 
 
 "Well, here I am; what is it you want?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I want to ask you for something," Maude 
 replied. 
 
 "Yes, so I suppose; that is generally the case 
 with you and Eva," her brother laughed sar- 
 castically. 
 
 Maude was on her mettle and began the at- 
 tack: "It is my mother's portrait. I want it 
 hung in here." 
 
 "Indeed, and why? Can you not enjoy it 
 where it hangs?" 
 
 "No, I cannot; it pains me to know that it is 
 hanging downstairs, in view of all it must see. 
 Her face should not be there. Let me have it, 
 I beg, that I may place it where no one with 
 dissolute impunity dare insult the memory of 
 her virtuous life." 
 
 "What the devil do you mean? Of whom 
 do you speak?" 
 
 "I imagine you can guess, Brother William," 
 she said scornfully. 
 
 "Speak out, Maude, be honest for once. It
 
 84 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 may not hurt you. Do you mean that I insult 
 my mother's portrait?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then who?" 
 
 "Don't you know?" 
 
 "Do you mean Eva?" 
 
 "Of course not. The virtue of the Manning 
 women is unquestioned." 
 
 ' * Then who in hell do you mean ? Speak out, 
 woman, I don't like this sort of thing." He 
 rose from his chair and advanced toward her. 
 
 "Look on the desk and see if you do not find 
 there some light upon the subject," and Maude 
 pointed to the pile of cards. 
 
 "Charles DeWitte," he read aloud, "what 
 of him ? How did you come by all these cards, 
 and what has he to do with it?' r 
 
 1 ' The cards came with flowers to your wife, ' * 
 Maude stated in fierce tones. 
 
 Manning's face suddenly grew dark, but for 
 a little while longer he maintained a semblance 
 of. calm. "Yes? That's pretty hard on you, 
 isn't it?" he sneered. 
 
 Maude burst forth: "How dare you, William! 
 But you shall listen to me and know how often 
 she is alone with him for hours at a time. 
 There is a disgraceful connection between them. 
 Are you no part of a man to countenance it? 
 Behind the cold dislike she feels for you, she
 
 THE JUDGMENT 85 
 
 hides her love for DeWitte. She loves him, I 
 tell you; she loves him and hates you. She 
 was with him to-day. She will be again to- 
 morrow. She loves DeWitte, she loves him," 
 and shaking with excitement and emotion, she 
 grasped her brother's arm with both her trem- 
 bling hands. 
 
 "Let go!" he cried, shaking her off, "you 
 are lying, and you know it." 
 
 "I am not lying, she loves him; I can prove 
 it. You shall see it." 
 
 Manning turned on her fiercely; "Prove it, 
 you say? Then do so. Prove it prove it 
 and you shall have your price," he cried half 
 choked with rage. 
 
 In her fury, Maude had gone further than she 
 intended, but unwilling to acknowledge this, she 
 persisted: "I will prove it. "Wait." 
 
 The days that followed were busy ones for 
 Cleo. First of all she must gain entrance to 
 DeWitte 's studio, spying on Eleanor during the 
 sittings. This was her plan: Under pretext 
 of shopping, she left the house and knowing 
 that DeWitte would never recognize her as 
 Mrs. Manning's maid, applied to him as a 
 model. 
 
 In this way she gained the knowledge 
 of how to reach his rooms. Once within the 
 outer studio, Cleo's quick eyes detected many
 
 86 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 good hiding-places where she could watch them 
 unseen during the few remaining sittings. The 
 picture was nearly finished, and Cleo knew that 
 she must hasten if she hoped to earn the large 
 reward Maude promised her. 
 
 Soon after Eleanor left the house, Cleo fol- 
 lowed her, and once out of sight of the house, 
 called a cab, driving nearly to DeWitte's door. 
 There she had no trouble, but telling the foot- 
 man, "I am ze model, and M'sieur expects me,' 7 
 walked in unchallenged. 
 
 DeWitte's rooms were not the usual bare- 
 looking ones of artists. In the first room, 
 costly and exquisite hangings decorated the 
 openings, rare tapestries and rarer paintings 
 mingled with old armor and weapons in a 
 strangely beautiful effect. 
 
 Behind the drawn portieres, hanging at the 
 door of the inner studio, Cleo concealed her- 
 self. Her cat-like step was silent, and her soft 
 dress made no sound. The curtains were long 
 and loose, and among their generous folds she 
 found it easy to hide. 
 
 Eleanor was sitting in the cold blue north 
 light, that fell from the glass ceiling. DeWitte 
 was at his easel, and on his handsome face, the 
 fire of genius fought in deadly conflict with the 
 counter fire of human love, human passion and 
 desire.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 87 
 
 Cleo had not waited long before she knew 
 that if it rested on the man alone, she would 
 gain the reward. 
 
 Suddenly he cried out: "I can never do it, 
 I cannot. Oh ! tell me, tell me why you change 
 so. As I look at you now, I never want you to 
 change, but while I look, I seem to see further 
 and another being meets my eyes. You change 
 to me at every look. I cannot paint you. I 
 have your hair, your form, your dress. The 
 face on my canvas is the lovely one before me, 
 but Oh, my God! the eyes your eyes, woman 
 I cannot paint your eyes. They haunt me night 
 and day. They glorify the night, and shine be- 
 fore me like two brilliant stars, but when I look 
 at their reality, my colors pale, my brush stif- 
 fens, my hand is numb, and my soul falls back 
 in despair" His voice sank almost to a 
 whisper at the last words, and he hurriedly 
 passed his handkerchief over his moist fore- 
 head. His pale lips were trembling, and he 
 could not control his voice. 
 
 Eleanor rose from her seat and advanced 
 toward the door: "Let me go now," she said, 
 "you are working too hard. Rest to-day and 
 to-morrow, it will all come right," and she soon 
 was gone. 
 
 He did not accompany her to the waiting car- 
 riage, but as she left, he walked as if he still
 
 88 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 saw her, toward the chair where she had sat, 
 then back again to his canvas. 
 
 Silently, he gazed for a moment, then groaned 
 aloud, "Oh, God, I love her! This is the 
 woman! Give her to me. All I ask; this 
 woman," and overmastered by emotion, he 
 leaned against the easel, misery stamped on his 
 face ; the cruel misery of a hopeless love. Soon 
 into his face the watching woman saw a strange 
 look creep. His eyes grew more intense, till 
 they were set in their deep, faraway gaze. ' ' As 
 I want her to look," he whispered in a strained, 
 tense tone, and snatching a brush, began again 
 with tender strokes upon the canvas. 
 
 Cleo crept out of the folds of the curtains 
 with a happy face: "It vill be for me," she 
 congratulated herself. 
 
 Manning had been peculiarly disagreeable of 
 late, and Eleanor had felt the insult of his in- 
 sinuating remarks. Not once he spared her, 
 and Maude's malicious eyes gleamed with satis- 
 faction as she heard him. He persistently 
 threw her into the society of other men, but did 
 not disguise his suspicious watchfulness. 
 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk came often to the house, 
 and in ostentatious display exhibited the pe- 
 culiar influence, which she seemed to have re- 
 gained over him. Eleanor's position was more 
 and more unbearable. Manning's attentive-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 89 
 
 ness had faded as the months passed by and 
 there appeared no promise of an heir, and she 
 realized that her hold upon him, which at best 
 was hut that of her youth and beauty, coupled 
 with his desire for a son to inherit his wealth 
 and perpetuate his name, was on the wane. 
 
 The thought was constantly with him, and 
 when alone with her, his petulant reiteration of 
 his disappointment made her more than ever 
 hate and despise him. 
 
 In this frame of mind, it was easy for Maude 
 to work upon his evil nature, and poison his 
 mind against Eleanor, who he declared was 
 spitefully refusing him the boon he craved. 
 
 Maude had been readily persuaded by the un- 
 scrupulous French girl that it would' be pos- 
 sible to surprise Eleanor in a compromising at- 
 titude with DeWitte, for jealousy ever lends a 
 willing ear to suspicious doubt; accepting as 
 true, insinuations which reason and sanity 
 should stamp as false; and after Cleo's vivid 
 description of DeWitte 's passionate absorption 
 in the painting, and his evident admiration for 
 his beautiful model, Maude was willing and 
 eager to convince her brother that all that was 
 lacking as proof of Eleanor's defection was to 
 be unseen watchers of an interview between 
 them, while DeWitte was painting her portrait. 
 
 There did not thrive in the Manning family
 
 90 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 the idea of honor first; expediency after; and 
 Manning decided that the end would justify 
 him in adopting any chosen means. He there- 
 fore agreed to follow Eleanor to DeWitte's 
 studio, and with Maude 's heh) detect her in the 
 suspected guilty love. 
 
 Maude's hlack eyes burned fiercely, and her 
 face was frightful in its sallow pallor when they 
 entered DeWitte's door. Fortunately this was 
 hidden under her veil, but Manning had no such 
 convenient mask, and his sinister look would 
 have excited suspicion if Cleo had not paved 
 the way. Her smiles and her ingratiating re- 
 wards had already secured for her plans, en- 
 tire safety for the eavesdroppers. Pretending 
 to believe in the clumsy excuse of an engage- 
 ment, DeWitte's servant let them in, and they 
 were soon advantageously secreted by Cleo. 
 
 From the folds of the heavy portieres they 
 could see almost the entire interior of the stu- 
 dio, where DeWitte painted. The room was 
 more vacant than the first and larger one, but 
 no bareness was shown. The artist's love for 
 beauty was displayed in the colors of the pol- 
 ished woods, the subdued tone of the few hang- 
 ings and the burnished glow of the heavy cop- 
 per boxes that held his painter's paraphernalia. 
 Even his easels were massive and handsomely 
 carved.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 91 
 
 Eleanor had not arrived, and the delay of her 
 coming seemed endless. 
 
 DeWitte was in the studio, and in evident 
 eager expectancy. He paced back and forth 
 like a restless prisoner. At the slightest sound 
 his face brightened, his breath quickened, and 
 alive in every fibre he awaited the fulfillment 
 of his expectancy. To Manning, watching him, 
 came the suspicion: "Has his man betrayed us? 
 He is so restless. Does he know?" till reas- 
 sured by the apparent absence of suspicion in 
 the man he watched, he whispered: "No, he 
 does not know, or he would be more careful. 
 He shows too great interest." 
 
 At last footsteps approached, and two women 
 entered, Eleanor and her mother. Over De- 
 Witte 's face a shadow passed. He had hoped 
 that Eleanor would come alone, but he came 
 forward, and in conventional greetings bade 
 them welcome. 
 
 ' ' Eleanor tells me that the painting is nearly 
 done, Mr. DeWitte," and Mrs. Howard turned 
 expectantly toward the covered easel. 
 
 "Yes, just one more sitting," he answered, 
 but he made no motion to remove the cover and 
 show the picture. 
 
 Mrs. Howard did not enjoy waiting during 
 the quiet sittings and she suddenly remembered 
 that she could attend to some shopping and re-
 
 92 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 turn within an hour. Soon DeWitte was alone 
 with Eleanor. "Shall we commence now?" 
 she queried, in unconscious haste at something 
 in his face that lately had not always heen well 
 covered or disguised. 
 
 "No need to. It is finished," he answered 
 her, and stepped to the easel, laying his hand 
 upon the cover. She interrupted him "Then 
 why did you not tell my mother 1 ' ' 
 
 "Because I must have you see it first of all. 
 I may as well tell you," and the words came 
 fast, "but first look, then tell me if the picture 
 is true;" and he snatched off the long cover, 
 and laid bare the portrait. 
 
 She was painted in white. The dress was 
 soft and filmy and clinging, and seemed to serve 
 but to drape the slender young figure. One 
 tapering arm hung in unconscious repose by 
 her side. The other was slightly raised, as if 
 in hesitant expectancy. The soft tones of the 
 painted figure were marvelous. They made 
 the painting seem alive. The head was slightly 
 bent forward, the curling bronze-tinted hair 
 piled in exquisite half disarray. The tints of 
 the face were wonderfully lovely, the blue veins 
 in the temple showed through the white skin, 
 where it deepened into pink and creamy tones 
 in the cheeks and to scarlet in the softly curv- 
 ing mouth, then paled again to purest white in
 
 THE JUDGMENT 93 
 
 the neck and lovely rounded shoulders. But 
 the art of the portrait lay in the eyes, which for 
 so long had baffled him. They were Eleanor's 
 large, dark brown eyes, but as you looked at 
 them, they changed until they were not Elea- 
 nor 's eyes. They were still large, and dark and 
 brown, but Eleanor's eyes held in them no hint 
 of gladness. They were not cruel, but they 
 were cold; they were not heartless, but they 
 were sometimes hurt ; they were not sorrowful, 
 but they were often sad. 
 
 The eyes in the portrait were glad, they were 
 sweet, they were young, they were happy, they 
 were alluring, they seemed to say: "Enjoy life 
 with me. Come! Come! life is lovely; life is 
 sweet; I feel it; I thrill with the joy of it; I 
 love!" 
 
 DeWitte did not say a word, nor did Eleanor, 
 but the man's breath was coming fast, his face 
 was pale, his hand was tightly closed, and his 
 eyes were fixed on Eleanor's face in eager in- 
 quiry, as if he sought to read her soul. 
 
 Still Eleanor did not speak, but gazing at the 
 picture, a deeply troubled look came to her face, 
 and she ended the long silence with a long 
 breath, half sob, half sigh. 
 
 "Tell me," DeWitte whispered, and even 
 then his voice trembled. 
 
 "I can't explain," she answered, and turned
 
 94 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 to look again. "What have you done to it? 
 It was like me yesterday, but not to-day. Oh ! 
 you have made it hurt me." Her voice was 
 full of pain. "You make it haunt me with 
 what I might have felt. Take that look out of 
 the eyes, if the picture is of me. Take it out ! 
 I cannot look at it !" and all her training in self- 
 control deserted her. She turned away, the 
 scalding tears came slowly through her fingers, 
 pressed tight over her eyes. 
 
 DeWitte, at her side, tried to loosen the pro- 
 tecting hands; his voice came back, and his 
 words poured forth strong and fervent: 
 "Dear one, do not grieve, do not despair; you 
 can feel that way; you shall. It is a lie, this 
 life of yours. Your true life is another, far, 
 far different. Look up, and let me show you in 
 my heart the love, no, the worship there for 
 you. All this time I have loved you, idolized 
 you, lived only in your sight. Outside is night ; 
 my cruelest despair. Look, Eleanor, see, read 
 my heart. There is nothing in it a pure woman 
 like you need blush to see. I love you, yes, I 
 want you, yes. God only knows how much 
 Vut honestly thank God. I want your love to 
 open Heaven's gates, by just one word say it 
 dear God, make her say it! Leave this life 
 of yours. It is a sacrilege ; this daily torment. 
 Everybody knows it ; everybody sees it. Leave
 
 THE JUDGMENT 95 
 
 it, it is but honest to do so. Leave it, and let 
 me give you another and a better. Oh, Eleanor ! 
 Eleanor! 7 love, I love you so " His 
 voice broke and ceased, for on Eleanor's face 
 was depicted surprise, scorn and outraged in- 
 dignation. 
 
 He tried to speak again "Don't, don't, 
 Eleanor " but she lifted an imperious hand, 
 and waved him back. 
 
 "Wait! If you have finished, listen to me. 
 As you say, it is true that my life is a lie, a 
 daily torment. You remind me that I am bound 
 to a man I must despise yes but are you bet- 
 ter? I came among you not two years ago, an 
 ignorant unformed child, and what have I seen ? 
 Duplicity, deceit and outraged decency every- 
 where. There is no honor there is no truth 
 there is no goodness. You are all the same. 
 Because I despise him, shall I love you? I do 
 not believe in your love. You do not know 
 what love is. If you loved me, you would pity 
 my ruined life, and would have been my friend 
 instead, you have leagued yourself with them 
 to insult me. Never speak to me again. Let 
 me pass." 
 
 "Oh, God, Eleanor, don't go like this; be- 
 lieve me oh! believe me. I swear I mean no 
 no harm. Think is it more decent to live with 
 him as you do, because of the publicity of the
 
 96 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 divorce you could so readily gain? Think of 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk think of that horrible 
 Maude Manning. They will triumph over you 
 yet, I warn you, it will come ; they will triumph. 
 Then leave it now before they do. You do not 
 know, child, you cannot fathom their meanness, 
 their deep duplicity and underhand knife 
 thrusts. Maude Manning is a devil in woman's 
 form, and Mrs. Van Buskirk a shameless 
 woman. Be warned, I beg I can make you so 
 happy I will I will " 
 
 "I will not listen; let me go. Let them tri- 
 umph. Friendless I came friendless I can re- 
 main. Let me go." She moved again toward 
 the door, and with a sweep of her arm threw 
 aside the portiere. 
 
 DeWitte sprang forward, and tried to bar the 
 way, begging: "Tell me you do not hate me." 
 
 "But I do, I hate, I despise you all I" and im- 
 periously she motioned him aside. 
 
 As the curtains swept back, a man's small 
 shining foot was visible. Eleanor saw it, and 
 turning, pointed. She raised her eyes to De- 
 Witte 's face, and in scornful tones, still point- 
 ing toward the curtain, inquired: "May I ask 
 if you have provided yourself with an invisible 
 witness to this interview, in which you so elo- 
 quently plead in honor's cause?" 
 
 DeWitte could not speak. The scorn in her
 
 THE JUDGMENT 97 
 
 tones cut him like a whip. He snatched back 
 the curtain to disclose the hiders, just as Maude 
 and Manning stepped out on the other side. 
 
 "We came for Eleanor, and hearing voices 
 waited a moment. We have just come in," but 
 Maude's pale face, burning eyes and her rage- 
 shaken voice belied the words. 
 
 DeWitte made no reply, but his look was 
 eloquent of his contempt. It fell on Maude 
 with all its force, and made her writhe. 
 
 Then Eleanor spoke, and her voice had re- 
 gained its calm: "One might have known it 
 was you two." Her eyes traveled over them 
 an instant, then she turned. "I think I will go. 
 Doubtless you three may like to talk this over ; 
 good by," and her laugh rang out, cold, mirth- 
 less and insulting. 
 
 At the sound, DeWitte 's face quivered with 
 pain, and passing the others, he too left the 
 room. 
 
 Manning turned, and in a savage snarling 
 voice, began: "What in hell did you bring me 
 here for I You are as big a fool as that damned 
 little French devil, and between you two, you 
 have gotten me into this." 
 
 "Oh, William 1" Maude sobbed, unable longer 
 to control her tears. 
 
 ''Shut your mouth, and learn to keep quiet. 
 Every time you speak, you make a fool of your-
 
 98 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 self. You have acted like an infernal idiot to 
 make me come here with you. I only came to 
 please you. I hope you got a great deal of 
 satisfaction from hearing DeWitte 's opinion 
 of you. Doesn't he love you! Ha! Ha! 
 Perhaps you will still want to run him down. 
 Well, you are welcome to, but you will have to 
 do it without me hereafter," and Manning 
 grabbed his hat and made for the door. 
 
 "Don't leave me here, brother William," 
 Maude implored, her face quivering with an 
 agony of mortification and fear that she might 
 again meet DeWitte, "He might come back." 
 
 "You are safe from him. Don't be afraid. 
 Ha! Ha! Ha!" his face was purple, his hands 
 were trembling and cold, and his heart was on 
 fire with rage, at the memory of Eleanor's 
 plain description of her feelings for him. "I'll 
 make her rue this day, the damned cold-hearted 
 saint," he snarled. 
 
 When Maude found herself alone, she looked 
 round her in furtive dread of DeWitte 's re- 
 turn. "Oh, let me get out," she whispered, as 
 she stole through the hall. Her form was 
 trembling and shaking with sobs. As she 
 walked out, the footman smiled with open im- 
 pudence. She saw it, and thrilled with anger 
 in the midst of her shame.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 DURING the days that followed, there was little 
 peace in the Manning household. Maude's 
 mortification changed to fierce resentment, and 
 she redoubled her energies to render Eleanor's 
 life unbearable. 
 
 Mrs. Howard had heard from Manning a 
 highly colored version of the scene in the studio. 
 "You should have been more discreet than to 
 allow Mr. DeWitte to speak so openly," she 
 complained to Eleanor. "It will simply ruin 
 us if you are not more careful. 'William inti- 
 mated that he is thinking of a divorce. Just 
 think how awful ! It would kill me. How can 
 you so harass me with this constant uneasiness 
 about our future. If I had to go back now to 
 the misery I suffered before your marriage, I 
 should die. As your father lay dying you 
 promised him to look after me, and this is how 
 you do it. You make my life a constant dread 
 of evil. There is nothing William refuses you. 
 Poor William! You nearly drive him crazy 
 with your indifference. He is beginning to be 
 suspicious of other men, and you have only 
 yourself to blame. If you would only be a little 
 
 99
 
 100 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 more womanly. Oh, Lord ! why should I have 
 such a heartless child?" and Mrs. Howard 
 sought relief in a deluge of tears. 
 
 "More womanly! Am I unwomanly because 
 my heart shrinks with disgust at the deceit and 
 selfishness around me ? Am I inhuman, because 
 I hate where I am hated, and despise where I 
 meet insult? If so, let me be inhuman to the 
 end. It is my only joy, this hate I feel. A 
 divorce would be happiness, a glad release from 
 the bondage, which has degraded and insulted 
 me from the first. Yes, I promised my father 
 to care for you, and I have, I will. I will work, 
 I will slave, I will struggle that you shall have 
 your luxuries ; but do not ask me to endure this 
 horrid life. Let us give them their divorce. 
 Let us go to ourselves and have our existence, 
 untainted of them. Oh, mother! mother! be 
 my friend just this once, I beg. Grant me 
 this, I have so little. Think of Daddy, and let 
 him plead for me. Let us go away mother." 
 
 Eleanor sank to her knees beside her mother, 
 the tears streaming down her face, and clasped 
 her mother's hands ; only to be shaken off petu- 
 lantly, as Mrs. Howard cried out: "You are in- 
 sane, girl; give up now that we have secured 
 all this? No, you shall not, you do not know 
 what you say; you are wild to think of it. 
 Here we are and here we will remain. You
 
 THE JUDGMENT 101 
 
 will learn in time that I am right and will thank 
 me for refusing to listen to ravings. Get up; 
 dry your eyes; end this silly talk; treat your 
 husband as you should; he can take everything 
 away from us. Do as he tells you, and all will 
 be well." 
 
 Eleanor rose and faced her mother. All the 
 pleading left her face; all the softness, all the 
 youth. "Eleanor, these scenes must stop. 
 You must learn to curb yourself. Be a woman, 
 not a silly child. Eespect me, and change your 
 course, and you will thank me in the years to 
 come." 
 
 For a minute Eleanor 's eyes searched her 
 mother's face, then she laughed harshly and 
 coldly. "Then let me begin to learn. Let me 
 be like others, and when you see the woman you 
 make of me, may you be proud of your work. 
 From this day, from this hour, I will learn. I 
 will be as the rest. I will meet their insults 
 and insinuating thrusts ; they shall feel my cold 
 steel in return. I will meet the men and women 
 who throng this house from now on with a 
 smiling face. If my heart is stifled by a weight 
 of pain, my face shall smile. If I am again ' in- 
 human, unwomanly,' it shall be in secret. In 
 my heart shall lie my sorrow, since to you it is 
 only a complaint of silly childhood. Best as- 
 sured, mother, to you I shall complain no more."
 
 102 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 As Eleanor went out, her mother's eyes fol- 
 lowed her in inquiry; "She looks so strange," 
 she murmured, "I wonder if she really meant 
 it. She is too impetuous. I must keep her 
 under. It is insane to think of leaving him. 
 I simply could not do it. She must be crazy 
 to imagine I would. She must stay." 
 
 Maude had showed embarrassment under 
 Eleanor's gaze at their first meeting, but hate 
 had steeled her heart, and she returned a look 
 of sullen dislike to Eleanor's sarcastic smile, 
 as she took her seat at the table. It was Man- 
 ning's first meeting after the scene at the stu- 
 dio, and his face purpled at the remembrance 
 of her words. Eleanor had learned the lesson. 
 Her pose was defiant. Her face seemed to say : 
 "At last I know you. Keep your distance, but 
 feel my scorn, my contempt and my hatred." 
 
 Under Eleanor's eyes Manning's temper 
 grew worse. Finally he burst out: "Are you 
 all struck dumb? Can none of you say any- 
 thing?" As he spoke, he cast an angry look at 
 his wife. 
 
 Slowly she turned her eyes to his, 
 and with a strange smile, answered: "If I 
 thought it worth while, I could say many 
 things." Manning's face flushed, and he 
 snarled: "These infernal airs of superiority 
 that you are so fond of assuming do not add
 
 THE JUDGMENT 103 
 
 much to your attractiveness, I can tell you." 
 Eleanor shrugged her shoulders for reply. 
 
 Emboldened by her brother's ill-natured re- 
 marks, Eva turned to Eleanor. " Are you sick? 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk said the other day that you 
 looked half dead." 
 
 "No, I am not sick, thank you; my health is 
 good. Perhaps my imperfections are more 
 visible to some eyes than to others," smiling 
 straight into Eva's spiteful face. 
 
 Maude came to Eva's rescue: "I believe you 
 think you are perfect, in every way, Eleanor," 
 she sneered. 
 
 Eleanor did not flinch under the concerted 
 attack but looking directly into Maude's face, 
 answered: "Oh, no, not perfect. These sur- 
 roundings would make perfection impossible; 
 but I consider myself as fairly respectable and 
 there are a few things I still refuse to do ; lying, 
 slandering, bribing and eavesdropping, I leave 
 to others. My great crime is that I live in their 
 atmosphere, and with shame I plead guilty to 
 the charge." 
 
 Maude was furious ; rising, she demanded in 
 a voice which shook with rage: "William, will 
 you allow this? Can't you protect us from 
 such insolence?" 
 
 Manning looked at Eleanor as she sat toying 
 with her teaspoon. Her face showed no sign
 
 104 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 of temper, and she returned his look as if she 
 were totally indifferent as to what he might do 
 or say. Angered at her words, and feeling 
 keenly their application to himself as well as 
 to his sisters, he would have resented them, but 
 something in Eleanor's face held him back with 
 the unspoken thought: "She is right. She is 
 above it, and if we go too far, she might make 
 trouble." 
 
 "Don't drag me in. Fight it out among 
 yourselves. You women are like cats, anyway ; 
 always at each other's throats." 
 
 Maude left the room, her breakfast almost 
 untasted, and Eva followed her. Left alone, 
 Manning could not resist the impulse to re- 
 prove his wife. "I wish, Eleanor, you would 
 try to refrain from quarrelling with the girls. 
 It does not make them like you any better, and 
 it upsets everything." 
 
 Eleanor answered slowly, "Is it quarrelling 
 with them to speak of decency? I had not con- 
 sidered it as strictly quarrelling." 
 
 He grew more angry. ' 1 Now look here, I am 
 tired of this. If I am all you say, remember 
 it is my money that took you out of poverty; 
 but for it, you would now be working for your 
 living. Eemember this, and respect it, if you 
 don't respect me." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right. Your money is
 
 THE JUDGMENT 105 
 
 what gains for you consideration. I must re- 
 member it. You and your money are so closely 
 interwoven in my mind that it is impossible to 
 forget either; but do not ask me for respect, 
 which is impossible.*' 
 
 Manning 's voice quivered with rage. ' { What 
 do you mean; how dare you speak so to me; 
 you are in my power. I could throw you back 
 into poverty and want. Do not go too far. If 
 you are as cold as ice, I am not. It is my right 
 to watch you, and I will, whenever it suits me, 
 if that is what you mean. While you are my 
 wife, I am your master, and I will control you 
 if I have to do so by force. Remember this 
 you are mine. I have bought you, paid for you. 
 The clothes you wear are mine. I will do with 
 you as I please. I will force you into obedi- 
 ence ; you shall come under my will if I have to 
 beat you into submission," and his eyes, blaz- 
 ing with fury, his face purple with rage, his 
 hand upraised as if in violence, he started 
 toward her. 
 
 Eleanor rose, waiting for his fury to culmi- 
 nate. She spoke no word, made no motion, but 
 her eyes expressed more plainly than any words 
 could do her fearless scorn and contempt for 
 the man before her. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped: "You are trying to 
 provoke me. You want me to resort to vio-
 
 106 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 lence, that you may have an excuse to leave me. 
 You shall not. Mine you are, and mine you 
 shall remain, but you must not continue to pro- 
 voke me." 
 
 When Eleanor reached her room, the stern 
 restraint was loosened, and there arose within 
 her a torrent of hate toward her persecutors 
 that shook her soul. Like fierce demons it 
 gripped her heart, and wrung and tortured it. 
 Lost in the storm, despairing of escape, no 
 helping hand outstretched to her, no comforting 
 voice, no consoling thought, her aching heart 
 closed in despair, shutting out forever the 
 tender thoughts and gentle impulses of girl- 
 hood, making her hard, making her cold, making 
 her disbelieve in everything on earth, and al- 
 most in the goodness of God.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 "WILL you put your trotters in, Manning?" 
 asked Dr. Bryan, discussing the horse show. 
 
 "Yes, I guess so; Maude is wild about it." 
 
 "Who will drive?" 
 
 "Either she or I; she, if she has her way." 
 
 "How about your black, will you put him in, 
 too?" 
 
 "Well you know, I don't own him now," 
 stammered Manning. 
 
 "No! I hadn't heard. Who bought him?" 
 
 "Mrs. Van Buskirk." 
 
 "Manning, you didn't do that, did you? 
 How it will set the talk going ! I '11 bet my head 
 she drives him just for impudence." 
 
 "Well, I'm trying to get her not to." . 
 
 "As well try to keep the devil out of mis- 
 chief. You know she will. Why don't you 
 break with her? You told me when you mar- 
 ried, that you intended to live straight." 
 
 "Well, now look here, Doctor, you don't 
 know Eleanor. She's the devil to manage, and 
 to tell the truth, that's the reason I came to see 
 you to-day. I'm getting awfully tired of this 
 kind of thing. I'll just tell you plainly; I want 
 
 107
 
 108 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 a family, but Eleanor well, I hardly know how 
 to describe her conduct. She never says any- 
 thing, and I don't know what to think of it, but 
 I'm getting discouraged, and I want to see if 
 you couldn't say or do something." 
 
 "I, say anything! What can I say? It's 
 your fault if you don't have children, not Elea- 
 nor's. It's your early life. I told you that 
 you ought not to marry." 
 
 "Oh, such damned nonsense as that won't 
 go. I know that's not so. It's Eleanor. She 
 doesn't want them. I've promised her every- 
 thing ; to send Maude and Eva away ; stop Aunt 
 Norton and the Lord knows that ought to in- 
 fluence her, for she hates them like poison, and 
 they hate her worse but never a word or a 
 promise can I get from her. I thought if you 
 would talk to her; tell her how much easier it 
 would make her life she loves you you are 
 the only one she does love she will go through 
 torment for her mother, but there's no love 
 there ; just a stern sense of duty but for you, 
 it's different her face shows it when you come 
 near her." 
 
 "Do you love her, Manning?" 
 
 "Oh, I love her well enough. I was crazy 
 about her at first, and I'm proud of her. She's 
 the most beautiful woman in town; she's the 
 best dresser, and I'm perfectly sure of her
 
 THE JUDGMENT 109 
 
 virtue in fact, I've seen it tested," and Man- 
 ning laughed shortly, "but she's so damned 
 cold. When I talk to her, she is ice. I tell 
 you, Doctor, I'd give half I've got, if you could 
 put some sense into her." 
 
 Manning was nervous and embarrassed; he 
 walked up and down the room while talking, 
 not noticing the look with which the old man 
 followed him. When he stopped at last, anH 
 looked up, the old man shook his head. "It's 
 no use, Manning, it's no use, it's your own 
 fault, there won't be any such thing for you." 
 
 The horse show soon engaged the attention 
 of social New York. Everyone was interested, 
 either in his own horses or in those of his 
 friends. 
 
 Manning was a great lover of horses, and 
 for several seasons his had been prominent and 
 successful competitors in the horse shows. 
 The beautiful black that had won the blue rib- 
 bon the previous year was his especial pride. 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk, with all his other acquaint- 
 ances, knew this, and she had set her heart 
 upon possessing it, desiring the horse no more 
 than to display her influence over Manning. 
 He had given it to her, and she had determined 
 to drive it during the show. She had lately 
 devoted her time to trying to gain sufficient
 
 110 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 control over the tricky big black horse to dare 
 to drive him. 
 
 Beared in Manning's own stables, he was 
 docile under his master's hand, but often un- 
 manageable with strangers. 
 
 Extremely unwilling that Mrs. Van Buskirk 
 attempt to drive, Manning begged: "If you are 
 determined to enter him, Louise, let your man 
 drive. I tell you King is unsafe in your 
 hands. " 
 
 "You are afraid of the talk, I believe," she 
 answered. "If I can stand it, you should be 
 able to." 
 
 "Perhaps so, but I'd hate to see King kill you. 
 You know the horse never liked you, and it was 
 always a mystery to me why you should want 
 him. When he was a colt, he bit you as you 
 tried to pet him. He is not safe for you. I 
 will give you any other horse you choose, if 
 you'll let me have him back. Be reasonable, 
 Louise. When you know you can do anything 
 with me, you might give way to my wish in 
 this. Let me have King, or at least promise 
 not to drive him next week." 
 
 "I'd rather drive that horse than all the 
 others in your stable. Everybody knows he is 
 your best and your pride. I simply must drive 
 him. I wouldn't fail to do it for the world. 
 Think of the faces of the spectators!" and Mrs.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 111 
 
 Van Buskirk's voice thrilled high in amused 
 delight. 
 
 "By George, Louise, one would think you had 
 had enough said about us, not to court more," 
 he grumbled, unable to share her mirth, but 
 she only laughed. Laying her soft white arm 
 around his shoulders, she rested her face 
 against his, and asked in teasing seductive 
 tones: "Growing faint-hearted, are you, dear- 
 est? Isn't it just a little late?" 
 
 Under her spell, Manning always fell, and 
 it was not long before he had given his con- 
 sent. As he fastened the glittering diamond 
 bracelet round her soft, warm arm, he wa's 
 laughing with her. He had brought it to buy 
 her off from her declared plan of driving King 
 in the trotting class, but before he knew it, she 
 had persuaded him out of his scruples, as well 
 as his bracelet, and into her own reckless dis- 
 regard of consequences. 
 
 Mrs. Norton had not been to the Manning 
 house for several days, and when she came, her 
 whole attitude and expression seemed to say: 
 "As well tell me what you've been doing. I'll 
 find it out anyway." 
 
 Eva and Maude hastened toward her with 
 assurances of their pleasure at her coming. 
 
 "Of course you ought to be glad. I'm your 
 best friend, but you don't appreciate what I
 
 112 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 do. Some day when it is too late, you will 
 find out that I am really the only friend you 
 have." 
 
 Maude asked if she was going to the horse 
 show. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I will go, everybody goes; besides 
 I have heard of something I want to see. ' ' 
 
 "I'm going to drive the bays," Maude 
 boasted. 
 
 "Is that so; did Eleanor want to drive 
 them?" 
 
 "No, I guess not, why?" 
 
 "You seem so pleased, I thought you must 
 have outwitted her in some way*" 
 
 "Oh, no, she doesn't seem to care anything 
 about it. William secured the best of the 
 boxes, but I heard her say yesterday that she 
 did not care whether she went or not." 
 
 "She'll go," remarked Eva. "Madame La 
 Marque told me that the clothes she had bought 
 for it were perfect dreams, and she will go to 
 wear them, and spoil the show for the rest of 
 us." 
 
 "William suggested to her to drive or ride, 
 but she said she didn't care to appear in pub- 
 lic with some others who would drive. I 
 know she meant the slur for Mrs. Van Buskirk 
 and me," declared Maude.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 113 
 
 11 Where is she this morning?" asked Mrs. 
 Norton. 
 
 "Out somewhere with her mother. We are 
 never together now. She treats us as if we 
 were the dirt under her feet, and Mrs. Howard 
 is so entirely taken up with enjoying William 's 
 money, that she thinks of nothing else." 
 
 "Have you a box, Aunt Norton?" asked Eva. 
 
 "No, I thought I'd sit with you. The good 
 boxes are so high, and I wouldn't have one of 
 the back ones. I might as well save the money, 
 and make William pay for my seat. He and 
 his father have defrauded me of so much, that 
 I can never get even, but I'll save this much, 
 and buy that set of furs I've been wanting all 
 Winter. You can just tell him I expect to sit 
 there. Be sure you tell him, Maude." 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Norton," responded Maude, 
 "I'll tell him." 
 
 "Well!" Eva said, when Mrs. Norton had 
 gone, "we might have known it, we have got 
 her on our hands again. The only redeeming 
 feature is that she will make it hot for Eleanor, 
 and that whining old mother of hers." 
 
 "But if Aunt Norton is in our box, not a 
 man at the show will come about us. She in- 
 sults everybody within half a mile of her." 
 
 "Well, we must keep her in a good humor,
 
 114 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 and maybe she won't be so bad this time," Eva 
 tried to encourage her. 
 
 "But you forget Mr. DeWitte will be there, 
 and I should die if Aunt Norton said anything 
 to him about what happened in his studio ; and 
 if she gets a chance she will do it or die. I'd 
 rather miss the show than to be in the box with 
 her," Maude wailed. 
 
 
 
 The horse show had opened, and throughout 
 the spacious arena at Madison Square Garden, 
 an air of festivity prevailed. The boxes were 
 filling rapidly, the chatter of the women, min- 
 gled with the men's deeper voices in that all- 
 pervading murmur of humanity by which we 
 know that the moment of expectancy has ar- 
 rived. High up among the rafters rang the 
 unrestrained laughter of the shrill-voiced 
 "rooter," waiting for the opening of the show. 
 The promenade was thronged with early ar- 
 rivals, and the crowd constantly augmented by 
 newcomers, was greeting and being greeted by 
 those already there. Across the tanbark hur- 
 ried the anxious exhibitors, eager for a last 
 word to the pompous ring men, who strutted 
 about with grandiloquent airs of importance, 
 as if conscious of personal responsibility for 
 the success of the whole affair. 
 
 Thousands of lights shone radiantly across
 
 THE JUDGMENT 115 
 
 to the other thousands, returning their bright 
 gleam; lights were everywhere; expectancy 
 was everywhere; the past was forgotten; they 
 were living in the present. The show was on. 
 
 The judges came to their stand. The boxes 
 were filling. The people already filled the 
 lesser seats. Hundreds of diamonds winked 
 back at the sparkling lights. Fans fluttered. 
 Smiling faces bent in salutation to friends in 
 nearby boxes. The world and his wife his 
 numerous wives, were there like human butter- 
 flies, sporting in the breezes of the summertime 
 of life. 
 
 The tanbark cleared, and the master of cere- 
 monies awaited the coming of the high-stepping 
 steeds and their higher-living masters. 
 
 The Manning box was advantageously placed, 
 nearly opposite the judges' stand. It was 
 large and spacious, but there were few vacant 
 chairs. 
 
 Mrs. Norton was gowned in soft lustrous 
 black velvet. The heavy folds hung round 
 her like her own dark thoughts. Across her 
 chair lay the exquisite furs purchased through 
 her economical forethought regarding the box. 
 She sat in upright acidity beside her patient 
 husband. His fat face, though not carefree, 
 wore the meek expression of the habitual peace- 
 maker. Afraid to smile openly, for fear of be-
 
 116 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 ing misunderstood, he cast furtively deprecat- 
 ing glances at his wife's alert face and bright 
 darting eyes, searching for a convenient victim. 
 Mrs. Gordon-Leigh and her daughter, Mildred, 
 sat beside them, chatting with the old man, who 
 would have enjoyed their gay talk but for the 
 dread of his wife's criticism. "Just so, just 
 so, he! he! he!" he chuckled, responsive to Mil- 
 dred's remark that the horses would soon come 
 on. His wife turned: " What's so funny about 
 that, John?" she demanded. "A-h, nothing, 
 my dear, I was only thinking how nice, er 
 that it did not snow," his face straightening 
 like a small boy detected in a forbidden joy. 
 As Mildred giggled, the old man cast at her a 
 pleading look. 
 
 Dr. Bryan sat by Eleanor; her mother on 
 her other side. Manning's chair was vacant. 
 He was below with his horses. Eva sat at 
 Mrs. Gordon-Leigh's side; her face painstak- 
 ingly enameled, and if her nose was more rosy 
 than when she left the hands of the expert mas- 
 seuse, she was not yet aware of it. 
 
 No living woman was ever absolutely uncon- 
 scious of her own beauty, though she may pos- 
 sess the great charm of seeming to be, and 
 Eleanor noted the stir her appearance created ; 
 the craning of necks and the half audible re- 
 marks on every side.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 117 
 
 In Mrs. Overtoil's box, immediately to the 
 left of Manning's, was a large party of her 
 friends. They were laughing gaily as the Man- 
 ning party came in. Beyond the Overton box, 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk held her court with two wo- 
 men, who served as good foils to her striking 
 brunette beauty. She made a glittering spot, 
 visible throughout the crowded space. Her 
 dress was black, but so far from somber that 
 one lost sight of the dark hue in the sparkling 
 brightness of the whole. She was like a scintil- 
 lating black diamond, from her throat to her 
 trailing skirt. Her lace robe, a glittering 
 spangle of jet; at each turn of her lithe body 
 the facets shone brightly; even her steady 
 breathing, gently moving the soft lace above her 
 breast, made an ever moving radiance, until 
 the eye was dazzled. Her black hair was sur- 
 mounted by an immense picture hat of black 
 lace and long, loose plumes that reached back, 
 and swept her shoulders. "An exquisite pic- 
 ture in an ebony frame," remarked Bobby Van 
 Arsdale, as she took her seat beside him. 
 
 With the three women sat seventeen men; 
 young, middle-aged and old, but to-night there 
 was, strange to say, among them no married 
 ones, for few men dared attend the horse show 
 with Mrs. Van Buskirk, if their wives were 
 there to see.
 
 118 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Van Arsdale leaned across to William Ellis, 
 sitting a little behind him: "Nice of Manning 
 to get this box for us, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, he's growing sporty again. He has 
 nine horses on the tanbark, and I don't know 
 how many thousand dollars in boxes. Have 
 you seen his wife? She's a beauty, and can't 
 she hold her head. She's a wonder all right." 
 
 "You bet she is," answered Bobby, "and 
 perfectly straight, too." 
 
 "Oh, yes, too straight. Lots of us wish she 
 wasn't," laughed Ellis. 
 
 Soon the eager cry was heard: "They are 
 coming, look, look, oh, look ! ' ' and up above, the 
 loud voiced rooters made audible their admi- 
 ration. 
 
 "Gee, see the black! Oh, the bay's the win- 
 ner! See how she steps. Ain't she a bird!" 
 
 Leaning from the boxes they watched; con- 
 versation languished, eyes were more alive, for 
 interest in the horses was awake. 
 
 In they came, amid a burst of music from the 
 hidden band that until now had sent forth sub- 
 dued strains. The horses pranced round the 
 ring, their arched necks and daintily lifted feet 
 indicating their high breeding. 
 
 Round and round they went, their nostrils 
 dilating, their tossing heads held proudly, while 
 every now and then a triumphant neigh pro-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 119 
 
 claimed the self-esteem of some equine aristo- 
 crat. 
 
 Women leaned from their boxes, and clapped 
 their white gloved hands in praise of favorites 
 capering below. 
 
 "Watch the Sloan bay. He's a sure win- 
 ner." Bobby tapped Mrs. Van Buskirk famil- 
 iarly on the arm. 
 
 "I don't believe it. I am betting on the 
 chestnut sorrel." 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! you may choose men, but you can't 
 choose horses," teased Bobby. "Save your 
 money to back a better one." 
 
 "Well, I'll wager a hundred that my black 
 wins the blue ribbon when his class is called." 
 
 "Your black! Oh, now, since when?" 
 
 "Well, never mind the when, the where or 
 why," she laughed, "he's mine now, all right, 
 and you'll see his proud head crowned with 
 the blue when the judges call the award." 
 
 "Damned bold about it," Ellis whispered. 
 
 Then came the hackneys. Like clockwork 
 one class followed the other. Scarcely had the 
 horses reached the gate, before the next class 
 came thronging in. 
 
 In the tandem event Maude Manning drove 
 superbly round the arena a handsome pair of 
 bays. Out of eleven entries in this class, the 
 Manning pair easily ranked first, and the tro-
 
 120 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 phy was hers. As she sat erect in her seat, her 
 tailor-made gown displayed her good points, 
 disguised her poor ones, and made her almost 
 handsome. Her eyes flashed in happy pride, 
 as the magnificent pair was reviewed, and the 
 trophy awarded. 
 
 Then came the coaches, heralded by bugle 
 calls. Round the tanbark they went, an old- 
 time coaching print embodied into modern life 
 and action. Here was such a well matched four 
 as we rarely see; bright bays, leaders and 
 wheelers alike in appearance and action. Next 
 them moved another team, black as night, to a 
 coach of bright magenta, a striking sight. The 
 horses moved together in splendid style, but the 
 judges' critical taste barred them out on ac- 
 count of the loud color note. Then came Man- 
 ning's snow white coach, tooled by himself. It 
 awoke loud applause, as it swung round the 
 ring automaton like, under the touch of their 
 master's hands. "Yes, yes, the trophy is his I" 
 The crowd of men in his coach cheered lustily 
 as they left the ring, the bugler sounded his 
 loud triumphant note, and amid the waving of 
 thousands of handkerchiefs, round after round 
 of resounding applause, the horses tossed their 
 proud heads, and again sped round the ring 
 and out the gates. 
 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk had left her box to drive
 
 THE JUDGMENT 121 
 
 the captious black horse, restlessly champing 
 his bits below. The last event was called, and 
 into the ring, the horses came again. Bays, 
 chestnuts and grays, with here and there a 
 darker horse. Conspicuous among them, the 
 big black horse to the pronounced stanhope, in 
 which sat the beautiful woman, handling the 
 ribbons with debonair grace. 
 
 From the boxes the remarks came openly: 
 "Did anyone ever hear of anything so bold!" 
 "It is Manning's big black, entered as her 
 own!" "Heavens! that's flagrant!" "How 
 will they accept this!" Meaning glances 
 flashed from box to box, as the stanhope and 
 its occupant passed down the arena. 
 
 "Shameless!" hissed old Mrs. Norton, eager 
 of voice, and loud enough for all to hear. She 
 turned to Eleanor: "Poor child, to have this 
 shown so openly. No wonder you couldn't en- 
 joy the show. Too bad! Too bad! I shall 
 certainly speak to William." 
 
 Eleanor struggled for composure, as for a 
 moment she turned on her tormentor scornful 
 eyes, then shifting them, as if she would forget 
 Mrs. Norton's words, together with her exist- 
 ence, began to talk to Mrs. Gordon-Leigh. 
 
 Suddenly someone cried out shrilly from a 
 box far down the line. The black horse had 
 become unruly. A careless driver had scraped
 
 122 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 a wheel, making him break and begin to plunge. 
 He reared and pawed the air ; then, at the un- 
 familiar touch of the whip, with which hi? 
 driver desperately tried to quiet him, he snorted 
 in rage, and broke from her control, the lines 
 hanging loose, where he had snatched them 
 from her hands. 
 
 Women screamed, leaning from their boxes, 
 and men's faces began to blanch; grooms tried 
 to bar the way, but the maddened horse rushed 
 past them. The woman clung wildly to the 
 rail of the vehicle, her face white with terror. 
 The other entries in the event rushed out 
 of the way of the plunging, uncontrollable 
 animal. 
 
 Manning, seeing the danger, rushed down into 
 the ring, calling out "King! King! Stop, 
 Stop ! ' ' and the horse, quivering in every limb, 
 allowed his master to take him by the bridle. 
 
 "Get down, Louise, I'll hold him. This 
 comes of your stubbornness," cried Manning, so 
 excited that he called her by her name. As- 
 sisted by the grooms and the crowd of men that 
 now invaded the tanbark, Mrs. Van Buskirk 
 left the ring, and began a pitiful struggle to re- 
 gain the mastery of herself, and to cover her 
 mortification. 
 
 King was still unquieted, and would allow 
 no hand to touch him but Manning's, who was,
 
 THE JUDGMENT 123 
 
 therefore, obliged to lead him from the ring, 
 and the show broke up in general confusion and 
 excitement. 
 
 "Oh, let's get out!" wailed Mrs. Howard, 
 anxious to escape the inquisitive eyes and re- 
 marks leveled at them. 
 
 " Wasn't it awful, Mrs. Manning?" queried 
 Mrs. Overton, determined to hear Eleanor's 
 voice, while the incident still lived. 
 
 "Yes, certainly exciting, but not so awful as 
 if someone had been injured," Eleanor an- 
 swered. 
 
 "How noble of your husband to risk his life," 
 cooed Mrs. Sloan- Webb. 
 
 "Yes," answered Eleanor, "you know Mr. 
 Manning previously owned the horse, and it was 
 easy for him to manage it." 
 
 Down at Sherry's, at every table, Mrs. Van 
 Buskirk's spectacular deliverance by Manning 
 was the theme of gossip. 
 
 Bobby asked Will Ellis: "Did you see Van 
 Buskirk? He was near the entrance, as she 
 went out. He was full anyway, and the look 
 he gave her wasn't pleasant, I can tell you." 
 
 "No, Bobby, he has looked ugly for some 
 time, and somebody will get in trouble yet. 
 Lord! wasn't Mrs. Manning cold and stiff? 
 Wouldn't she be a wonder if she had any feel- 
 ing in her? With all her beauty, her heart is
 
 124 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 so cold that no one can interest her. Wouldn 't 
 it be great to see her wake up!" 
 
 "I tell you, Ellis, she is not dead, she will 
 wake up yet, some day, and show a heart that 
 is warm enough, and don't you forget it." 
 
 "Do you think Mrs. Van's circus trick to- 
 night will bring it about ? ' ' 
 
 " Can't tell about that, but I'll bet Mrs. Van 
 is done for this time. You'll see that from now 
 on she will be numbered among the 'caught.' "
 
 CHAPTER VHI 
 
 THE great rooms of the Loan Exhibition of 
 Paintings, at the Union League Club, were 
 filled with a babbling, tea-sipping, weary-eyed 
 crowd. From the walls, sombre and grave 
 portraitures gazed down upon the throng. 
 
 Upstairs there was more room. There hung 
 old masterpieces mingled with specimens of 
 the shrieking modern paintings now invading 
 the realms of art. 
 
 Every now and then above the general hum 
 was heard the eager voice of a new devotee ex- 
 pounding art, all unconscious that in her ardor, 
 her young knowledge shone out like fresh var- 
 nish. 
 
 "S-sh-sh! Listen! this is funny," giggled 
 Mildred Leigh to Bobby, as fragments of a 
 nearby conversation floated to them. 
 
 "It reminds me of a beautiful statue I saw 
 at the Louvre on my last visit to Paris," de- 
 clared a richly attired matron, her jeweled lorg- 
 nette lifted as she scanned a canvas, where was 
 represented that well-known struggling form 
 unwillingly sinking into death's cold embrace. 
 "Yes, it is surely the same," the shrill voice
 
 126 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 declared, "but I saw it in marble at Paris. It 
 is called 'The Dying Gladiolus.' I like it al- 
 most as well as another one called 'Apollo with 
 the Devil's Ears,' " and unconscious of the 
 spasms of mirth behind her, the new million- 
 airess passed on further in quest of pleasure. 
 
 "That reminds me," said Van Arsdale, "of 
 a story Ellis told at the club last night. He 
 went that morning for a ride with Miss Austin, 
 whose father made such a sudden fortune in 
 sugar last Winter. She kept him waiting, but 
 Mrs. Austin entertained him vastly, too, from 
 his account. Explaining to him the cause of her 
 daughter's delayed appearance, she said: 'Oh! 
 it is too bad that Annie is late for her ride, but 
 she was up so late last night, and when you 
 came she was still in the arms of Bacchus.' 
 Ellis assured her of his full appreciation of the 
 situation, and begged Mrs. Austin to allow the 
 girl her time." 
 
 Two canvases hanging together attracted the 
 attention of the gay group. Eanch scenes in 
 Texas representing the annual Spring round-up 
 of the herd. 
 
 The two paintings were palpitant with life. 
 In one, the cattle crowded together in the center 
 an almost indistinguishable mass of color and 
 form, with now and again a lifted head waving 
 angry defiance at man 's restraint. On the con-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 127 
 
 fines of the herd, the animals could be more 
 plainly seen ; one moving slowly along with in- 
 different serenity following his leader to un- 
 thinking doom, while by his side another reared 
 his angry head, shook his horns, his glaring eyes 
 and expanded nostrils expressing unwilling rec- 
 ognition of man's compelling force. Toward 
 the left corner, a red steer pawed the dust, send- 
 ing it skyward; his lowered head and sullen 
 posture showing his wish to incite the herd to 
 outbreak. Toward the disturbing element two 
 cowboys dashed. The small lithe ponies 
 stretched their limbs in that sweeping gait 
 known only to the prairies ; one rider, his bridle 
 hanging on his horse 's neck, shouting a warning 
 to the molester. You could almost hear his: 
 "Hi-ee!" as he waved his broad-brimmed hat; 
 the hanging noose of rope trailed behind him. 
 His feet in the stirrups raised him from the sad- 
 dle as the horse came on. His fringed leather 
 leggings were stiff from exposure and age, and 
 his brown flannel shirt was open at the neck, 
 around which was knotted a big red handker- 
 chief, its brightness emphasizing the tan of his 
 face and throat. His smiling face showed no 
 touch of care or sorrow ; an untroubled child of 
 Nature set in his native realm, happy and free 
 as the wind, asking nothing but his steed and life 
 and action.
 
 128 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 The companion picture gave another glimpse 
 into this prairie life. The whole angry herd 
 aroused, had broken from the men's control. 
 On they thundered, led by the belligerent red 
 steer, which pawed the earth in the other pic- 
 ture. His head was outstretched in the pride of 
 his evil conquest, and in wild abandon of unre- 
 straint he led the maddened thundering herd 
 from the grasp of the outdistanced cowboys, 
 racing behind them in a wild endeavor to over- 
 take and turn the stampeded cattle. 
 
 In both pictures lay the level green prairie ; 
 the same golden sunshine poured down. The 
 same violet shaded haze stretched far and wide, 
 and over all, the deep blue sky bent its unbroken 
 dome, unflecked by the passing fret of a single 
 cloud. The two pictures, "Control" and " Un- 
 restraint," breathed from the canvas great les- 
 sons, and before them, even the frivolous group 
 were momentarily quiet ; a few of them through 
 admiration of the wonderful paintings, still 
 fewer because they grasped the lessons taught, 
 and the rest silent because the others were si- 
 lent. 
 
 "What is the attraction down there, I won- 
 der," cried Robert Van Arsdale, and as they 
 turned to look, he added, "Let's go and see." 
 
 As they neared a new canvas, Mrs. Gordon- 
 Leigh exclaimed, "Mrs. Manning's portrait!
 
 THE JUDGMENT 129 
 
 It is DeWitte's new painting, and marvellously 
 beautiful!" 
 
 Surely the judges had meant to place the 
 painting advantageously, for the warm light fell 
 upon it with a soft caress, as if even it loved 
 the beauty of the picture. Like a lovely human 
 soul bared to the inquisitive gaze of the world, 
 the pictured woman stood, her face half raised, 
 her eager eyes unconscious of their beauty ; set- 
 ting her apart, above and. beyond the gaping 
 crowd, who all unable to reach her soul could 
 but stand and gaze, criticise and cavil at this 
 unexpected glimpse of a woman's living, loving, 
 throbbing heart. 
 
 As a man behind her caught his breath with a 
 quick little sound, Mildred Gordon-Leigh turned 
 to him with a spiteful laugh: "Would you rec- 
 ognize her?" she asked mockingly. "Have 
 you seen her look like this, or does she keep this 
 happy face for the handsome painter alone?" 
 
 Half a dozen women joined in the amusement 
 that this sally provoked, until Dr. Bryan re- 
 marked in a half tone to his neighbor: "I dis- 
 cover the unpardonable sin. It is to combine 
 with beauty the lost art of virtuous woman- 
 hood." 
 
 Another woman asked: "Do you think Mr. 
 Manning will follow the example of Mr. Roch- 
 ester, who last Winter had his wife's portrait
 
 130 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 painted by this same remarkable gentleman 
 with the faculty of unearthing hidden and un- 
 expected beauty? When he saw the result of 
 Mr. DeWitte's labor, he cried, 'A beautiful 
 picture, but certainly not my wife.' 'I'm sorry 
 you do not consider the likeness good, ' DeWitte 
 answered. 'No, it is not my wife,' the husband 
 reiterated, 'and I hardly like to pay so much 
 for a portrait which does not please me.' Then 
 followed the suggestion that the painter reduce 
 his price, at which, to show his scorn, Mr. De- 
 Witte picked up a knife and deliberately slashed 
 the picture into ribbons." 
 
 Here Mildred Gordon-Leigh's insulting 
 laugh broke in on the recital : ' ' Did you inquire 
 if Mr. DeWitte would treat this painting with 
 like indignity ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 In her amusement she did not notice the look 
 of confusion that had spread over the group 
 until she glanced up to meet Eleanor's scornful 
 smile. 
 
 She was truly not like the picture now, as 
 she swept the faces of the group with her scorn- 
 ful glance, until it fell on Dr. Bryan, whose 
 blaze-lit eyes seemed to scorch with fury the 
 spiteful woman as she made her laughing jest, 
 then to her soul a sweet voice whispered: ''My 
 good, true friend." 
 
 Just as Eleanor halted, Mrs. Norton and
 
 THE JUDGMENT 131 
 
 Maude came up. The old woman raised her 
 harsh voice with cruel distinctness as she 
 asked of Eleanor: "Have you come, my dear, 
 to see the wonderful painting so few can rec- 
 ognize! Is there indeed within you that feel- 
 ing which the painter declares so boldly to have 
 found?' Are you not guilty of unkindness in 
 hiding such sweetness from us, to lavish on one 
 what all might love to see?" 
 
 At the words, Eleanor's face hardened with 
 cold disdain. The bitter notes that had found 
 a home in her oldtime happy laughter blighted 
 it as she replied: "No, you are right; there is 
 in me no likeness to this painting. Surely the 
 look which excites you all to mirth is but a 
 touch of fanciful imagery on the part of the 
 creator of this unknown woman. It is impos- 
 sible to imagine myself looking like that paint- 
 ing, surrounded as I am, for is there anywhere 
 among the people we know, a single face that 
 does not bear traces of the scars left by contact 
 with envy, hatred and greed?" 
 
 "Hush, Eleanor, for God's sake, don't rouse 
 her," Dr. Bryan whispered. 
 
 "Ah, indeed, you surprise me by exhibiting 
 such intense resentment at the mere suspicion 
 of an unsuspected happiness; the boon we all 
 so fondly crave. My friends, 'tis truly said that 
 'Wonders never cease.' "
 
 132 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Mrs. Norton had gained her point; had pro- 
 voked Eleanor into a show of resentment at 
 the comment raised by the unwonted look upon 
 her pictured face, and in the joy of it, she 
 laughed cruelly. 
 
 The Sunday morning following found Elea- 
 nor in the generally unoccupied Manning pew, 
 in the magnificent church. Just before the 
 organ's first deep note was heard, then with the 
 increasing louder swelling music, up the center 
 aisle began to move the chanting choir. 
 
 On they came, the sweet childish voices of 
 the well-trained choristers answering and min- 
 gling with the solemn notes of the organ in a 
 grand processional hymn. 
 
 The white-robed choir passed her pew, took 
 their places, and the service began. 
 
 The wonderful music thrilled her! Her 
 throbbing heart repeated, and over again as- 
 sured her: "Here is rest. Here is peace. 
 Here inside the sacred pale of God's Church is 
 a haven of comfort. Best in peace, sad heart ; 
 lift up your drooping head; hearken to the 
 sweet message of love. Be of good cheer. 
 The trembling rainbow of promise begins to 
 tint your clouded sky. With God's almighty 
 hand outstretched to. aid you, earthly sorrows 
 fall behind. He can uphold, uplift, and bear 
 you onward, till beyond their reach you sing
 
 THE JUDGMENT 133 
 
 with that invisible chorus, join your feeble 
 trembling human voice to that never ceasing, 
 ever swelling joy-filled Gloria that shall echo 
 down the ages, declaring God's love and mercy 
 to redeem humanity." 
 
 What the clergyman said, Eleanor never 
 knew. He stood in the pulpit, his palely in- 
 teresting face gleaming in the subdued light 
 that fell through the stained windows. His 
 white hands and graceful gestures accentuated 
 his priestly form, clad in his snowy vestments 
 as he delivered his careful and well-phrased 
 sermon. 
 
 Behind his scholarly figure, another shone, 
 and from the pictured face in the window there 
 Seemed to radiate that wondrous peace past 
 man's understanding, toward which we turn 
 our eager hearts, to find an all abounding glory 
 when once we really desire to find it. "Come 
 unto me, all ye that are heavy laden," ran the 
 illuminated text around the window wherein 
 the picture lay, and the gentle face seemed to 
 repeat the message : "If ye yearn for love, if ye 
 yearn for peace, if the waves of the world beat 
 hard upon you, carrying you far out to the 
 treacherous ocean of sin ; then turn to me. If 
 ye can but lift your eyes, lift them now to me. 
 Arouse your fainting heart to longing for the 
 peace and love I bring. Believe in me ; I know
 
 134 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 your sorrow, I know your pain, I know your 
 heart-ache, I know your woe. I have felt them 
 all, but I can refresh you, I can save you, I can 
 I will redeem." 
 
 Again the organ spoke, and the acolyte in his 
 scarlet robe lifted high the golden cross, the 
 sign of man's redemption, and following it 
 down the aisle slowly came the chanting choir. 
 The upraised golden cross advanced, and in the 
 light of it, the suffering woman lost sight of its 
 bearer. "Just the cross !" she breathed, "help 
 me, help me, help me." Nearer, nearer still 
 came the cross, shining radiant and golden. 
 Eleanor sank to her knees, her eyes fixed on it 
 embedded in a radiant halo, symbolic of its sav- 
 ing grace. On her knees, sobs shook her slen- 
 der form, struggle against them as she would. 
 "Save me, Lord, in my dire extremity. Be 
 to me the friend I need. Teach me, lead me, 
 I will cling to thee," she prayed. 
 
 "Yes, I will see him at once," she decided on 
 the swift homeward drive. "Surely, he, the 
 man of God, can help advise and strengthen my 
 faltering feet." 
 
 For months past it had seemed plain that a 
 separation from her husband must surely come. 
 "You will lose every friend, reputation, money, 
 position, all ; oh ! I had rather die, ' ' her mother 
 wailed at each fresh outbreak. "I beg you to
 
 THE JUDGMENT 135 
 
 stand it until I am dead, ' ' she insisted, * ; let me 
 die in peace," until her daughter's heart was 
 torn anew between her outraged womanhood 
 and her desire to care for, protect and defend 
 the helpless parent dependent upon her. 
 
 As Ealph Whittington, the stately rector of 
 St. John's, rang the door bell at the Manning 
 home, he inwardly wondered if he could credit- 
 ably extricate himself from this unpleasant po- 
 sition. 
 
 The social world soon learns to understand 
 the circumstances of its various members, and 
 few are possessed of more thorough knowledge 
 than the rectors of the churches. The divorces, 
 scandals, feuds and estrangements with which 
 we engage ourselves, are to him an old story, 
 often told, and to maintain a sure foothold on 
 the slippery paths of popular favor, steering 
 clear of the breakers of partiality, is an under- 
 taking worthy of Machiavelian strategy. This 
 was Dr. Whittington 's pride; invariably to 
 give each suppliant for the support of his 
 priestly influence an unincriminating answer; 
 keeping his own skirts clear. It is quite a 
 task sometimes. 
 
 He understood the Manning situation with 
 its many complications. Mrs. Norton's deep- 
 rooted animosity, the equally bitter resentment 
 of the Manning sisters, Manning's well-known
 
 136 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 connection with Mrs. Van Buskirk daily 
 growing more flagrant his insulting ill treat- 
 ment of his well-nigh friendless wife, whose 
 silly, weak and selfish mother hung to her, an 
 irremovable incubus. He knew it all, and since 
 Eleanor's message of yesterday reached him, 
 he had carefully reviewed the ground, going 
 over the resources of each. "I cannot offend 
 the Nortons. The old woman is stingy, but 
 their contributions would be seriously missed. 
 The Manning girls have little to give besides 
 what their brother allows them, but to turn 
 them and his valuable influence against me 
 would be ridiculously foolish. No, my advice 
 to Mrs. Manning must be of the most conserv- 
 ative kind. Indeed, she must at all hazards be 
 influenced against an outbreak. But I will ac- 
 complish it without incurring her dislike," and 
 it was with the comfort of an unusual self-as- 
 surance that he rang the bell. 
 
 She did not keep him waiting. Instead, she 
 was eagerly waiting for his coming, and greeted 
 him in her private sitting-room. His pale face 
 was filled with unctuous grace as he held her 
 hand a short moment, murmuring: "I trust I 
 find you very well, as well as very happy." 
 
 "It is because I am not, that I have sent for 
 you," she answered with her oldtime straight- 
 forwardness. Then she told him her story.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 137 
 
 The long recital of the woes heaviest to woman- 
 hood came in a torrent of heartbreaking words, 
 with finally an appeal for guidance, a quaver- 
 ing cry for help. Could it be that he heard her 
 aright? Did he indeed feel no more than the 
 polite mask, with which he shielded his inward 
 thoughts indicated, remaining all unmoved at 
 the pitiful tale of suffering? At last he broke 
 the silence: "You have, dear Mrs. Manning, 
 allowed yourself to become excited. Your mind 
 is overwrought. I am sure you will to-morrow 
 see the mistake of the step you would take to- 
 day," his softly modulated voice reiterated, 
 after a careful recital of his narrow, common- 
 place views. 
 
 "You mean I should continue to bear it all?" 
 she asked, in blank surprise at the lack of re- 
 sponsiveness he showed. 
 
 "My dear lady," he began again, "look about 
 you. Here on every side behold the lavishness 
 of the love with which your husband surrounds 
 you. You doubtless misunderstand him. Can 
 you not by your love and tenderness draw him 
 back to you? You must try. You must bear 
 the slight neglect, overlook all jealousy, forego 
 suspicion, cultivate love, turn to him the other 
 cheek if perchance he smite you. You speak of 
 divorce ; it would be the greatest folly, and be- 
 sides the tide is against it. Look at the wide-
 
 138 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 spread storm the very word brings forth. No, 
 no, you must forego the thought." How much 
 more he said, Eleanor could not remember. 
 
 "Is this your peace?" she hotly cried. "Is 
 this your comfort? Is this the shelter you offer 
 to sin-sick and suffering humanity 1 ? Your 
 church condemns divorce, you say, yes, it is 
 against the tenets of your faith, but a divorce 
 is still a legal thing, as lawful as this, legalized 
 slavery ; this so-called marriage in which every 
 fibre of womanhood is outraged, insulted and 
 disgraced, where every day and every hour is 
 a long drawn hell of miserable atonement for 
 the ignorant sin of having taken that impossi- 
 ble vow to love and honor a pitiful wretch, to 
 know whom is but to hate and despise. You 
 recommend that I willingly continue my servi- 
 tude, consent to this unceasing butchery of 
 every finer feeling ; that I withhold not my cheek 
 to the smiter's hand. Have you tried it? I 
 ask you, can you tell how it is done? Can you 
 impart the power to smile when yon receive 
 the cruel cuts of the social knout? I have 
 asked you for help, asked you for succor, asked 
 you for support, and you tell me 'Go back to 
 my slavery, to learn under the lash to bless the 
 hand that wields it. ' Then take your advice and 
 go. Give to another form of being this Chris- 
 tian help of which you prate. As well tell the
 
 THE JUDGMENT 139 
 
 starving, thirsting hind to turn away from the 
 cooling forest stream as to say to me: ' Enjoy 
 your servitude, turn back from your thought of 
 freedom,' for I tell you now, I reject your ad- 
 vice, I turn with all my suffering heart from 
 your temporizing phrases, which you call the 
 comfort of the Church. Since this hope fails 
 me, I will remain as I am until deliverance 
 comes; then if it comes, even though the hand 
 outstretched to me shall reek of blood or shall 
 horrify the senses with the stench of scandal, 
 if it does all this and more, I will blind my eyes 
 to its repulsiveness, and gladly, yes, joyfully 
 accept it."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE guests of Mrs. Overtoil's "Week End" 
 were arriving at the handsome country home, 
 her latest extravagance. 
 
 "I am glad to see them all, but I want to have 
 a good time, too, and I can't if I have to stay 
 in the house and wait for them," she explained, 
 as she strolled over the green stretches of the 
 golf links, here and there dotted with bright- 
 hued players. 
 
 Mrs. Overton did not often play, but the links 
 made entertaining easy and reduced the day- 
 time part of it, to a minimum. 
 
 The noisy throbbing of a large automobile 
 was heard and the machine soon came into 
 view laden with a laughing crowd. As they 
 descended at the door, Mrs. Van Buskirk cried : 
 ''This is modern life with a vengeance. No 
 hostess, no welcome, no handshake; let's all go 
 in anyway, and make believe we like it." 
 
 From her vantage ground in the pretty rustic 
 summerhouse, Mrs. Overton 's companion ob- 
 served to her: "I see Mrs. Van Buskirk has 
 come. Now things will happen," and they did. 
 
 140
 
 THE JUDGMENT 141 
 
 Most of the group had assembled in the 
 drawing-room, awaiting the announcement of 
 dinner, when Mrs. Van Buskirk made her ap- 
 pearance. Her beauty had rarely been better 
 displayed than by the geranium pink velvet 
 gown falling in exquisite lines from its embrace 
 of her very bare neck and shoulders. Across 
 her bosom a slight drapery of lace was thinly 
 spread, and a slender chain of diamonds in lieu 
 of shoulder straps ran across the glowing flesh. 
 Her dark hair was gathered high, and her smil- 
 ing face typified youth, health and passionately 
 enjoyed happiness. 
 
 Mrs. Overton liked Mrs. Van Buskirk. "She 
 is sure to entertain herself and you," she ex- 
 plained. Mrs. Van Buskirk may or may not 
 have noted the frigidity which her coming cast 
 over the group of women standing together. If 
 she noticed it, her laughter was just as gay, her 
 anecdotes as witty as if she knew herself to be 
 the most appreciated guest. At the rather 
 boisterous laughter from the group surround- 
 ing her, glances were exchanged and a woman 
 said in a half-audible voice: "It seems to me 
 I'd like to be a trifle less visibly delighted." 
 
 "Then it is a fact that the Manning divorce 
 will be?" 
 
 "Mrs. Van Buskirk acts like it," returned 
 the first speaker.
 
 142 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "I can't understand such effrontery, at least 
 beforehand." 
 
 The crowd must have been waiting for Mrs. 
 Ross-Scott's fiat as to Mrs. Van Buskirk's so- 
 cial fate, for when she passed her coldly by, no 
 woman in the house dared support her when 
 Mrs. Ross-Scott intimated support and recog- 
 nition should be withheld. In this case, she 
 spared no pains to express her disapproval of 
 the presence of the beautiful participant in the 
 horse show festivities. 
 
 During the course of the dinner, snatches of 
 talk could be heard, with every now and then 
 expressions of astonishing candor such as 
 would have brought a blush to the unsophisti- 
 cated, if such an one were there. Mrs. Over- 
 ton was far too experienced and wise a hostess 
 to bring together alien spirits, and no one 
 blushed. 
 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk saw the growing coldness, 
 but her face showed no sign of it, and her 
 laughter and wit were almost feverish. The 
 men on either side of her were openly delighted, 
 and indeed the rest of them all down the line 
 of the table were so evidently entertained and 
 interested, that to bring them back to their 
 proper senses, the female members of the party 
 must assume more virtuous austerity. When 
 at the close of the dinner they filed back to the
 
 THE JUDGMENT 143 
 
 drawing-rooms, leaving the gentlemen to the 
 wines and cigars, each man followed the gor- 
 geous figure in the low cut pink velvet gown, 
 the last to disappear, with that undisguised 
 admiration, to some women acceptable, to some 
 others, insult. 
 
 "Jove! She carried it high," cried Robert 
 Van Arsdale, as the door closed. 
 
 "Yes, she made a hit here, but in there oh, 
 Lord! when they are done with her." 
 
 The following morning, when the golf links 
 had reduced the crowd to half its size, and 
 bridge tables were engaging the others, Mrs. 
 Van Buskirk realized that these few days among 
 her erstwhile friends would likely serve to de- 
 termine her future fate, and almost desperate 
 at the enforced knowledge, she grew excited 
 and unwise. 
 
 The bridge players did not want her; that 
 was evident. No one invited her to share her 
 favorite game, eagerly as she desired it, and 
 when wandering through the rooms, the re- 
 ception accorded her was not the most in- 
 spiring. The golf links held no fascination for 
 her ; besides, the outside wind was cold, and her 
 feet far prettier in dainty slippers than in stout 
 walking shoes. "Shall I fail to profit out of 
 this visit?" she asked herself, angrily, thinking 
 of the bridge game in progress without her.
 
 144 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Not until evening did her time come again. 
 She made her appearance clad in a gorgeous 
 gown of orange-hued satin overhung with thin 
 chiffon softening and subduing the shine of the 
 underdress, a few touches of soft, brown fur 
 adding the darker notes. Always exception- 
 ally decollete, to-night Mrs. Van Buskirk ex- 
 celled herself, and her beautiful arms and 
 shoulders excited wonder and admiration 
 among her fellow guests. She wore rubies on 
 her white breast, and the glittering jewels 
 flashed and shone with life-like lustre as if 
 tinged with the rich, red blood enlivening their 
 wearer. Yellow; the daring color whose very 
 wearing is a challenge when tinted to that 
 shade. When a woman dons it, she has either 
 passed the boundaries of prudence, or else she 
 feels secure in the omnipotence of beauty. 
 
 A few minutes before the announcement of 
 dinner, the drawing-room was the scene of the 
 meeting of the members of the house party. 
 
 An awkward young millionairess, her coro- 
 net still unfamiliar to her head, stood talking 
 to Mrs. Gordon-Leigh and Mildred. Near 
 them DeWitte faced the door, a curious little 
 smile upon his handsome face. They at- 
 tempted to draw him into their conversation, 
 but of late the popular painter had grown quite 
 indifferent to the burdensome adulation so gen-
 
 .THE JUDGMENT 145 
 
 erally bestowed, and to his face had come new 
 lines. Emboldened by the confidence of pre- 
 eminence bestowed by great wealth, the rich 
 young lady playfully remarked to him: "You 
 must be proud of the stir created by your lovely 
 painting, Mr. DeWitte." But being a new- 
 comer into the regions of society, she was un- 
 able to appreciate the stir she had caused, by 
 her chance reference to the now well-known 
 painting. An angry flash came into De- 
 Witte 's eyes, and he turned to the girl as 
 though he would annihilate her for her unlucky 
 remark coming at just the wrong time, for Elea- 
 nor and her husband were by now well within 
 earshot of them. 
 
 A titter from the listening women followed 
 Miss De Smythe's luckless reference, but the 
 amusement of the women and the man's re- 
 sentment only bewildered her, who, anxious to 
 please, turned to Mrs. Gordon-Leigh, and help- 
 lessly appealed: "What have I done?" 
 
 Manning sought Mrs. Van Buskirk's side, 
 and his black eyes roved admiringly over the 
 handsome picture she made, greeting him with 
 pleased animation. 
 
 Eleanor knew that she had made few friends 
 in this alien social world, and the knowledge 
 had increased her air of aloofness, until she was 
 almost antagonistic in her attitude. Always
 
 146 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 proud and reserved, she had now become cold 
 and hardened in her estimates of mankind. 
 
 "Your sister's gowns are a continual reve- 
 lation, Maude," whispered Mrs. Gordon-Leigh, 
 and indeed it was true of Eleanor. She was 
 draped in soft creamy toned lace that fell in 
 foamy billows to the floor. The bodice was of 
 embroidery, and just escaped being yellow, 
 while suggesting that vivid hue. The lace of the 
 gown was priceless with exquisitely wrought 
 golden embroidery. She wore a tiara of emer- 
 alds interspersed with diamonds. The same 
 gems shone on her neck and arms, and to a 
 string of pearls around her neck was suspended 
 a tiny fan, sparkling with the same bright 
 stones. 
 
 As Manning left her standing beside her 
 mother, to join Mrs. Van Buskirk, Mrs. Boss- 
 Scott turned to Mrs. Williamson, and remarked : 
 "No light touches for him; you see, he admires 
 and seeks the heavier tones. Strange that even 
 in dress to-night they should be rivals, and that 
 the faint yellow tints of the wife's dress should 
 be outdone by the overflow of the same color 
 with which her victorious rival bedecks herself. 
 Mark me, this scene typifies the final result." 
 Her companion whispered in a half pitying 
 tone: "How sad for the poor young thing; but 
 she does look rather cold, doesn't she, and to
 
 THE JUDGMENT 147 
 
 the victors belong the spoils." And as nothing 
 succeeds like success, Mrs. Van Buskirk felt 
 her spirits rise, and showed her pleasure at 
 Manning's arrival, and from the glances fol- 
 lowing them after he joined her, she gathered 
 future acknowledgments of her victory. 
 
 "Oh, Will! I am so glad you have come, I 
 have been wild to see you all day," she ex- 
 claimed. "Come right over here, and tell me 
 all the news, and what you have been doing." 
 She held him until the dinner was announced, 
 and as the meal progressed, indulged so freely 
 in the wines, that towards the end it was plainly 
 seen that she was becoming intoxicated. In her 
 excitement and exhilaration, her glances at 
 Manning and her remarks to him were too 
 plainly eloquent of meaning to be overlooked. 
 He was, happily for her, more drunk than she, 
 and neither of them seemed to notice the stir 
 their conduct made. 
 
 "Heaven help her!" groaned DeWitte, with 
 covert glances at Eleanor's face. "How can 
 she bear it I would give my soul to gain hap- 
 piness for her while he, who has the right, 
 does this. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Van Buskirk had overdone the thing 
 this time, and there was no mistaking the fact, 
 from the rigid and determined way in which 
 the women of the party withdrew themselves
 
 148 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 from her at the dance which followed. It was 
 not, therefore, for her, the brilliant success for 
 which she had hoped, when Manning's deser- 
 tion of his wife had in imagination sounded her 
 triumphant march to victory. 
 
 Hating Eleanor as she did, she had promised 
 herself the pleasure of coupling the ignominy 
 of the divorce, upon which Manning had now 
 almost decided, with the scandal of an intrigue 
 with DeWitte, for she said in no other way 
 could she fully repay herself for Eleanor's un- 
 disguised contempt. 
 
 But contrary to her proud expectations, the 
 moment of her humiliation was near. Most of 
 the women of the party followed Mrs. Boss- 
 Scott's lead, ignoring her presence in the most 
 pointed manner. Her assurance even in her 
 chagrin did not forsake her, and when the time 
 of departure came, in lieu of other adieux from 
 erstwhile friends, she sauntered unconcernedly 
 over to Mrs. Overton's pet Pomeranian, sleep- 
 ing on a rug, shook his paw gravely, and called 
 out in a gay voice: ''Good-bye, dog," then amid 
 covert laughter from the men and stony glances 
 from the women, she left the room.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SINCE Mrs. Overtoil's week-end party, tlie feel- 
 ing of extreme unrest had been more than ever 
 manifest in the Manning home. Mrs. How- 
 ard's bitter resentment of the scandal created 
 by Mrs. Van Buskirk's bold disregard of ap- 
 pearances, found only one safe vent Eleanor. 
 She dared not complain openly at her son-in- 
 law, and since complain she must, her daughter 
 felt the full measure of her discontent, and the 
 days were spent in unending repetitions of her 
 lament. 
 
 Manning was not much at home, but what 
 time he spent there was an unabated horror. 
 He allowed no opportunity to escape of morti- 
 fying or enraging his wife. In the privacy of 
 their home, he was openly insulting, and though 
 he insisted upon her frequent attendance at 
 social functions with him, it appeared to be 
 mainly for the purpose of parading his unkind- 
 ness and disrespect. 
 
 Eleanor rarely quarrelled; in fact, it was 
 hard to engage her in any conversation in which 
 he had part; but she had grown more callous 
 to the opinion of the world, harder hearted, 
 
 149
 
 150 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 more unfriendly and unfriended. The youth- 
 ful warmth of her earlier manner had given 
 place to the coldness of disillusionment and 
 made of her that which any loving heart would 
 hate to see the object of its love become. 
 
 One morning nearly a week after Mrs. Over- 
 ton's party, Mrs. Howard, greatly agitated, 
 burst into Eleanor's room, holding out in her 
 trembling hands an open letter. "Just listen 
 to this awful thing!" she cried in tragic tones. 
 " William is going to divorce you why, oh, 
 why must I suffer so why could I not have 
 died in peace like your poor father ! Divorced ! 
 Disgraced! Heaven help me Let me die," 
 and in a paroxysm of angry tears, and tumul- 
 tuous excitement, she thrust the paper into 
 Eleanor's hands. 
 
 "And did he write you instead of me?" Elea- 
 nor rose with the question. 
 
 "Read it! Eead, and see to what you have 
 brought me," her mother's smothered voice re- 
 turned, and Eleanor read : 
 
 "Dear Will: I beg you not to enter your 
 plea for a divorce from your detested wife 
 solely upon the ground of your unfruitful mar- 
 riage. It is true that under the laws of the 
 State, that is a legal plea, but why base your 
 contention upon that ground, when her con-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 151 
 
 nection with DeWitte gives you another, which 
 makes it easier. It is common talk, and you 
 should not have to bear the blame that will be 
 visited upon you for putting her aside because 
 she is childless, while she sits back in scornful 
 assumption of virtue and goes unpunished for 
 her insults to both of us. For you her face is 
 filled with detestation, scorn and loathing. For 
 DeWitte, she is all smiles and gladness. In 
 your suit for divorce they should both be ex- 
 posed to the fullest extent, and by so doing you 
 will have the approval of at least all those whose 
 friendship is worth having. I am glad to say 
 that Van B. has gone and gone forever, and 
 when you are free from your burden as I am 
 now from mine, we will grasp the happiness so 
 long delayed. I am as always, your devoted 
 
 "Louise." 
 
 She read it to the end, and so quiet had she 
 become, that her mother ceased her sobbing to 
 look at her. Then, too exasperated to wait 
 longer, she cried out: "Well, what have you to 
 say?" Eleanor turned to look at her, and the 
 selfish woman fairly gasped in sudden amaze- 
 ment at the blaze of indignation enveloping her 
 daughter's face. 
 
 "Where did you get this thing?" she de- 
 manded in a tone that cut like steel.
 
 152 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "He dropped it.'* 
 
 "And you read it?" 
 
 "Of course, I read it. Do not blame me for 
 my solicitude for you. Oh ! that awful divorce. 
 You have ruined us both, we will be disgraced, 
 cast out friendless. His money will save 
 him, and we must creep off in shame, your po- 
 sition gone, and your character ruined. Tell 
 me, Eleanor ! Tell me, is it true is there any- 
 thing of this dreadful talk about you and De- 
 Witte? If you love him, say so, and we will 
 appeal to him to save us. Perhaps he might 
 marry you. Perhaps " But she was silenced 
 by the imperious anger of the woman confront- 
 ing her. * ' Stop ! I command you. I will not 
 be insulted so. My God! and even you, my 
 mother, can believe these shameless lies. Oh, 
 this hollow mockery of decency with which I 
 imagined I had cloaked myself, has fallen apart 
 and leaves me bare and shamed if I were a 
 courtesan of the deepest dye, I could not despise 
 myself more than for being what I have been 
 wife to this devil who calls himself man joint 
 owner of him with that abandoned woman. 
 Lash me, oh, God ! Scourge me, for I married 
 him, I lived with him, I was his wife, and I de- 
 serve my hell." 
 
 
 
 Why is it that we seek the theatre? Is it to
 
 THE JUDGMENT 153 
 
 see whom else may be there, to search the boxes, 
 and note that our neighbor's wife and her 
 friend's husband have found it a convenient 
 meeting place, to observe the magnificence of 
 the new people whose recent wild ride upon the 
 steed of finance down the race-course of chance 
 has won for them a glittering prize, or is it 
 possible that we in reality enjoy the play, and 
 intend to sit throughout the performance, in- 
 terested listeners to new renditions of that un- 
 mending theme, upon which half the comedies 
 and more than half the tragedies of life are 
 founded; human love, its frailties, its vicissi- 
 tudes, and its consequences? 
 
 The Manning box was filled, as were most of 
 the others. The scene was almost like a gala 
 night at the opera for all round the glittering 
 horseshoe the parterre boxes were filled with a 
 brilliant throng glistening with jewels, happy 
 or seeming to be, in the enjoyment of the social 
 and financial pre-eminence. Maude and Eva 
 Manning sat at one end of the box, while Mrs. 
 Howard and Eleanor occupied the other end. 
 There was a space between where Manning us- 
 ually sat, but this night he was absent. 
 
 During the intermission of the play, the Man- 
 ning sisters were happy in the visits of the men 
 who came and went from box to box. 
 
 Mrs. Howard was visibly making an attempt
 
 154 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 to appear natural, but Eleanor made no such 
 effort. Occupied with her own thoughts, she 
 made a striking figure of cold disdain and aloof- 
 ness, vouchsafing but the barest civilities to 
 those surrounding her. Oblivious to the gay 
 scene, her thoughts centered themselves upon 
 her suffering, which would not be banished. 
 Over and over in memory she rehearsed the 
 scenes of her past years. After consciousness 
 returned to her yesterday, with its load of in- 
 sults, ignominy and failure, and its crowning 
 indignity, the recollection of the letter exposing 
 the plan to befoul her reputation, defame her 
 character, and thrust her out among men 
 branded with an unjust infamy; she demanded 
 an interview with her husband, and showing 
 the letter, awaited his speech. In his surprise, 
 it was slow in coming. She had forestalled 
 him, and he knew not what to say. While she 
 waited for him to break the uncomfortable si- 
 lence, he stammered: "Well, well, you surely 
 are not surprised," then as she still made no 
 reply, he went on: "Your extreme coldness has 
 convinced me that this course would tend to 
 your happiness also." Still silence then 
 "You hardly expect me to believe that you love 
 me or object to my proposed course, do you?" 
 At the direct question, and the assured inso- 
 lence that crept back to his voice, Eleanor lost
 
 THE JUDGMENT 155 
 
 her control and turned to him in fury. "Care 
 for you! I! " and the scorn should have 
 killed him. "It is not a matter of that, but I 
 have sent for you to say that when once you 
 dare lay your defiling touch on my reputation, 
 once insinuate a breath of your lying scandal 
 concerning me that day you die; for if no 
 other means avail me, I will kill you with my 
 naked hands. Your brutality, and the hate I 
 feel will make me strong enough to do it. To 
 make of you in reality, what in my esteem you 
 already are carrion." 
 
 Angry at himself for being intimidated, yet 
 unable to cope with her in this new guise, 
 Manning sought his mother-in-law, where he 
 found a very different kind of woman. She, 
 too, was angry, but her wrath was of a meaner 
 sort, and she was willing to accept whatever 
 excuse gave promise of personal comfort. Her 
 self interest made her listen to Manning's 
 argument and she became his strongest support. 
 It was agreed between them that no divorce 
 proceedings would be instituted, if Eleanor 
 would surrender herself, her individuality and 
 her soul. True, this was not what they said, 
 when they declared that wifely obedience was 
 all that would be asked, and that in return she 
 might remain in possession of the position he 
 had given her.
 
 156 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 1 'But you can tell her," he snarled, "that 
 unless she does come under, unless she does 
 agree that henceforth I am master in this house, 
 I swear to ruin her I can and by God ! I will, 
 if I die for it and turn her out penniless and 
 disgraced you will tell her?" and his black 
 eyes glared. 
 
 "Yes, yes, William, I will tell her all. She 
 must and will do as you say, but let me make 
 peace between you. I can convince Eleanor; 
 I will tell her she is wrong, but can't you try 
 to be a little more tender and forgiving? You 
 do not understand her impulsive nature. A 
 jealous woman will say many untrue and un- 
 wise things. She has suffered greatly over 
 your attention to others, and you should make 
 some allowance for what she says;" and Mrs. 
 Howard found refuge in her ancient defense of 
 tears and long drawn sighs. 
 
 All this, and more was told to Eleanor by her 
 mother, and it came back to her mind, as she 
 sat in the theatre box. 
 
 The lines of the play seemed half meaning- 
 less to her, though to force back into forgetful- 
 ness her own wretchedness, she tried again and 
 again to concentrate her mind upon them. The 
 play was: "All's Well That Ends Well." 
 Bertram's cruel letter had just reached Hel- 
 ena, and the woe upon the actress' face struck
 
 THE JUDGMENT 157 
 
 an answering chord of sympathy in Eleanor's 
 heart, and she began to listen. 
 
 At first, the repulsed forsaken wife was filled 
 with anguish, but there came a time when her 
 great love set about to find the way to fulfill the 
 conditions stated in the letter. She found that 
 way, as readers know, and with their child upon 
 her breast, brought to her feet the truant hus- 
 band. 
 
 How strange a theme, and why should it 
 cling? "Father to an unknown woman's child! 
 'Twas done in Helena's time!" Eound and 
 round, the thought revolved in her tortured 
 brain, until at last the hopelessness of her 
 situation shut out her finer thoughts, and made 
 her forget her girlhood traditions of love and 
 honor for honor's sake. 
 
 She realized that it was as her mother had 
 said. The stony bitter-sweet path of mother- 
 hood now held out to her the only road to 
 safety. 
 
 "If you but had a child!" her mother's 
 wailing voice repeated, and the complaining 
 tones came back again in persistent echoes. 
 "/ will" she thought "one might as well. 
 My daily life with him is worse than this it is 
 the only way. They shall not push me down 
 into the whirlpools of obloquy, and since by 
 legal means escape evades me, tied as I am to
 
 158 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 this physical fragment of a man I willy I say 
 I will escape some other way." 
 
 The next day Dr. Bryan was sitting in his 
 cozy library when she entered. 
 
 "Ah! little girl, this is a treat. How glad 
 I am to see you," but he quickly stopped at 
 what he saw on Eleanor's face. "What is it?" 
 he asked, his voice losing its cheerful tone. 
 Then Eleanor told her story of the wrongs 
 and cruelties ; the hideous truths which her lips 
 had until now withheld ; then of the letter, and 
 the dastardly plan to defame her. The old man 
 bowed his white head as she proceeded, till the 
 cold voice suddenly lost its tone of lifelessness, 
 and strong and passionately she cried: "I am 
 determined to submit no more; I have decided 
 to protect myself." 
 
 "Then you will file a conntersuit?" he lifted 
 his head to say. 
 
 "No, and neither shall they drag me through 
 the courts, defaming me. It is the woman who 
 always suffers; once divorced, the world de- 
 clares her black as pitch, and I will not be di- 
 vorced. I have paid my price, and I will pro- 
 tect myself at any cost, but in another way. 
 Manning craves a child ; for this he would crawl 
 in the dust at my feet. I have resolved to have 
 one, and I have come to you, my old friend, for 
 advice."
 
 THE JUDGMENT 159 
 
 Dr. Bryan looked up in quick amazement. 
 "Eleanor!" lie gasped, "You! He!" 
 
 Eleanor laughed, and the laughter made him 
 shudder. 
 
 His head fell, this time to the table. "Poor 
 child!" he groaned. "Poor deluded child, you 
 don't know!" 
 
 Eleanor looked at him, for a moment her face 
 distorted with pain, but she shook it off, and 
 laughed again. "Don't! Eleanor, don't laugh 
 like that, you kill me ! " the old man begged. 
 
 "Listen to me," she continued. "I am not 
 the child you think me. I know what you 
 mean, but I am determined." 
 
 When she told him her plan gleaned from the 
 play, the old man groaned aloud: "My God! 
 My God!" Eleanor continued: "As my only 
 friend I have come to you. I am trusting you 
 with more than life. If you refuse to help me, 
 you drive me to another, who may not protect 
 me. Think well before you deny me, for in 
 God's presence I swear to do this thing; 
 with your help, if I may, without it, if I must. ' ' 
 
 Silence fell upon them both. The old man's 
 head was bowed; his frame was shaking with 
 his sobs. Over the heart of each was black de- 
 spair, for the old man knew her determination 
 was unchangeable, and Eleanor had decided 
 upon her course.
 
 160 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 At last he raised his drawn face, hoping to 
 see a sign of faltering, but her face was hard, 
 determined, and rigidly set ; her eyes met his in 
 a way that told him plainly the hopelessness 
 of opposition. 
 
 When he spoke it was in a hoarse whisper: 
 "If this is your final determination, I shall 
 not fail you now." 
 
 ".Then do not delay," she answered.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE next morning Kobert Van Arsdale and 
 Gordon-Leigh were standing on the clubhouse 
 steps when an old man passed by, his hat pulled 
 over his eyes, despondency and distress visible 
 in his gait and bearing. Something familiar 
 caused the two men to look at him again. He 
 did not speak nor even glance at them, but at 
 the second look, they turned to each other in as- 
 tonishment. Van Arsdale cried: "Dr. Bryan! 
 By all that's great. What on earth can it 
 mean ? He looks dreadful. I wonder what has 
 happened I" 
 
 "What's the matter with the old doctor?" 
 asked DeWitte, joining them from the street. 
 "I passed him just now, and I declare I hardly 
 knew him, he looked so sad and broken. Have 
 you heard of any bad news concerning him?" 
 None of them knew the grief eating its way 
 into the old man's heart ; the bitter secret which 
 bowed his head, and lined his face. 
 
 The long night gave him no rest. His letter 
 of imploring protest to Eleanor brought only 
 this answer : " I have decided ; it is the only way 
 of escape. I must have your help ; do not com- 
 
 161
 
 162 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 pel me to seek it elsewhere. " Pacing the floor 
 in mental agony, helpless to liberate her from 
 her cruel surroundings, and most of all, to de- 
 liver her from the enemy she had become to 
 herself, he cried out in anguish of spirit: "Poor 
 child, poor child; they have ruined your life, 
 and now shall I help you to blacken your soul ! 
 Oh, my God! that I should be forced to this! 
 That I must be the one to whom she comes with 
 such a plea! Must I? Do I dare refuse? 
 If I do, I only send her to someone who may 
 betray her, and spread abroad her shame. Is 
 this a greater sin than her life with Manning? 
 How can I answer? I am not God, I cannot 
 judge. He must do that. In her mother's hell- 
 ish barter for money, the daughter has been 
 lost. Shall I refuse to her the aid she asks of 
 me? They have ruined her life, but if I can, I 
 must cover that ruin, and save her reputation. 
 That perhaps I still may do. But, oh, Howard ! 
 Know with what grief I do this thing. How 
 my heart bleeds, my soul sickens at the ruin 
 that is wrought. Believe me, dear dead friend, 
 and understand and oh, God! support me 
 through this awful time." 
 
 In the end a dim light broke its way through 
 the torturing doubts that filled the old man's 
 heart, leading him to a decision and a plan. 
 
 "John," said Dr. Bryan to his faithful old
 
 THE JUDGMENT 163 
 
 servant, brought with him from North Caro- 
 lina, "Hal Gregory, a young gentleman from 
 North Carolina, will arrive this evening. Be on 
 the lookout for him, and see that he gets the 
 very best there is in the house, for we must try 
 to make his visit pleasant." 
 
 "Yes, sah; certainly, sah. Yo' say he is 
 from Norf Ca'lina?" 
 
 "Yes, from Kaleigh; you know his family. 
 When we left there they lived across the street 
 from us. His family are among my early boy- 
 hood friends as good friends as I ever had, as 
 good as any man need want. When my wife 
 was dying, this boy's mother watched over and 
 cared for her, and when all was over, spoke 
 words of comfort to me. Do your best for Mm, 
 John." 
 
 "Yes, sah, I will, sah." 
 
 And later John grinned his broadest welcome 
 to the young man, as he ushered him into the 
 room already prepared for him. 
 
 ' ' 'Member you ! Yes, sah, I does ! I 'mem- 
 bers yo ' pa and yo ' ma, yes, sah ! I 'members 
 'em all. Yo' wa'n't nuthin but a little tow- 
 headed young un when me and the Doctah lef 
 Raleigh; but we an' never forgot de Souf ; and 
 we ain' never felt much at home up heah. We 
 lubs the Souf yit, and allus will; but when de 
 Doctah los' his wife, he couldn' stan' it no mo'
 
 164 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 dar, and we had to leab. Bi' now a mockin 
 bird a singin' gibs him de blues; and honey- 
 suckle, Oh, Lawd ! he caint stan' it yit. But we 
 sho is glad to see you, sah, we sho is!" and 
 John hastened to tell the other servants the 
 news of the young man's arrival. 
 
 "Caint you see he's frum the Souf?" he 
 asked of Lizzie, the housemaid. "Jes' look 
 how he walks; 'tain no common folks es kin 
 walk laik dat. No'n deed; he's quality. Me 
 an de Doctah, we's knowed his folks since fo 
 de wah. We libbed at Ealeigh whur he libs 
 yit, and tain' no new fokes bout him. Git out 
 de way, gal; lem' me watch 'em pass out de do. 
 My! it looks laik de ole times," and John's eyes 
 grew misty. 
 
 At the club, Dr. Bryan's handsome young- 
 friend attracted more than passing notice. His 
 tall, finely proportioned figure, his handsome 
 face, his polished manner and refined bearing 
 set him apart from most of the men gathered 
 there. 
 
 "Haughty looking fellow," remarked Van 
 Arsdale. "Wonder who he is?" 
 
 "Southerner, I guess," Gordon-Leigh an- 
 swered. "I heard the old doctor say he was the 
 son of one of his boyhood friends. That ac- 
 counts for the old man's paternal air. One 
 look at them is enough to know that they feel
 
 THE JUDGMENT 165 
 
 their superiority; just a little too darned aris- 
 tocratic to suit me." 
 
 But even his prejudice began to fade away 
 under the charm of the young stranger's man- 
 ner. "Deuced pleasant fellow, after all," he 
 admitted half sheepishly to Van Arsdale, as 
 Dr. Bryan and his young friend left them that 
 night. 
 
 It was a hard situation for the old man, and 
 he cudgeled his brains with painful care to pave 
 the way for the talk he had prepared. 
 
 After all, it was not very adroitly put, and 
 his young friend turned to him in astonish- 
 ment: 
 
 1 'Why, Dr. Bryan! It is simply out of the 
 question! No one ever heard of such an ab- 
 normal situation." 
 
 The conversation that ensued was long and 
 earnest, for the young man was hard to con- 
 vince, but the old man was determined that his 
 plan once entered into, should be carried out. 
 
 With tearful eyes and a broken voice, he 
 pictured a beautiful heart-broken woman, her 
 innocent childhood, the death of her father, her 
 promise to care for her mother, that mother's 
 unreasonable demands, ending in marriage to a 
 man she loathed and hated, believing it the 
 only way to save her mother's life; his insane 
 desire for an heir, his impotence added to his
 
 166 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 cruelty and inhuman treatment, his unfaithful- 
 ness, and finally, the plot to ruin and disgrace 
 her by dragging her into a scandalous divorce 
 proceeding, and her appeal to him for help as 
 her only friend and the friend of her father, 
 his best and boyhood friend. Her determina- 
 tion to take the course suggested as her only 
 way of escape, his utter failure to dissuade her, 
 and finally, the dire consequences that would 
 befall the woman, who as a child, he loved as 
 his own ; his promise to help her, and his dread- 
 ful disappointment if he now failed her. 
 
 ' ' I can 't yet view it as you do, but for your 
 sake I agree. The situation is certainly a 
 novel one, and I like adventure. " 
 
 The doctor led his guest into a room and shut 
 the door. In the darkness, Gregory felt the 
 old man's trembling hand upon his arm. 
 
 "Kem ember, boy, for God's sake, remember, 
 you have sworn not to attempt to fathom her 
 identity. I swear she is a good woman or 
 was, before she married this reptile, who with 
 his tribe, has ruined her." 
 
 He flashed on a light, and pointed to a heavy 
 hanging on the other side of the room. 
 
 "The door is behind," he whispered, as he 
 turned off the switch again. "There is no 
 light it is sunk in the mystery of a darkness 
 you must not dispel but she is there."
 
 THE JUDGMENT 167 
 
 Gregory strode across the room. For a mo- 
 ment he hesitated. Then the old man, waiting, 
 heard the swish of the lifted curtain, and the 
 soft closing of the inner-door. 
 
 "My God! My God!" he groaned, as he stole 
 away. "My God! oh, my God!" and he sunk 
 into a chair. 
 
 He groaned aloud: "Why did I consent? 
 Why did I?" His stifling grief oppressed and 
 burdened his heart almost to the breaking 
 point, as he cursed his weakness when he yielded 
 to her. 
 
 He did not know how much later it was, when 
 a hand on his arm aroused him, and he raised 
 a haggard drawn face to the man above him. 
 * ' Damn it, sir, thia is an awful thing. I regret 
 most sincerely that I came here. She by the 
 Lord, sir, you have deceived me." For sud- 
 denly a conscience had cried aloud, and to si- 
 lence its clamor the owner turned to the bent 
 figure of the old man, and spoke in tones, where 
 resentment fought with censure: "I thought 
 from what you said, sir, that she could not be 
 a lady. You have deceived me, sir, I say, and I 
 demand some explanation of this mystery." 
 
 The old man jumped to his feet at these 
 words. ' ' Hush, boy, hush ! Come out of here ! 
 You don't know what you say; come out; my 
 God ! come, come ! ' ' and they left the ante-room ;
 
 168 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 the old man now the more alert and active ; the 
 other angered and sullen. 
 
 Tossing on his restless pillow, Gregory found 
 no rest that night. Self condemnation and bit- 
 ter blame of the old doctor surged through his 
 mind in the long, dark hours: "Those heart- 
 breaking sobs ! " he murmured. ' ' God 1 I shall 
 never forgive myself!" 
 
 Dr. Bryan's will had never shown itself so 
 strong as in his vehement refusal to his young 
 friend's pleadings: " Never, sir, never! Re- 
 member your promise." 
 
 "Damn my promise, sir! How could I 
 know that she was this kind of woman? How 
 could I believe she was all right? Lord, sir! 
 You don't understand! You must tell me. I 
 must know." 
 
 "You never shall, my boy, I promise you. I 
 would not tell you for my life or yours. Not 
 for her own. Do you think I am not suffering? 
 Then you do not know. I shall never cease to 
 condemn my part in this, or to bewail my weak- 
 ness in giving my consent. Do not ask me to 
 complete the ruin we have so nearly made. By 
 God, sir, you do not know me. The only thing 
 I can do now, is to protect her name, and while 
 I have breath, that I will do. Rage as you 
 please, you are the one of the three to suffer 
 least. We, she and I, can never recover what
 
 THE JUDGMENT 169 
 
 we have lost. You will forget it soon, and class 
 it in your mind among your gay wild oats, but 
 it is not so with us; ah, no, I will never tell 
 you." 
 
 "Then, sir, I go, but remember this, since 
 you refuse me, I'll find that woman without 
 your help. ' ' The old man tried to stop him, but 
 the young one threw out a restraining arm, his 
 angry attitude expressing his defiance. "Tell 
 her this for me: She lives somewhere in the 
 world, and so do I, and as long as I live, I am 
 searching for her. You cannot prevent me, nor 
 can she; as you have brought us together in 
 your damned mysterious way, it shall be my 
 task to find her ; and when I find her tell her 
 this when I find her, if she is what I believe 
 that she may be, then she is mine."
 
 "EvA, I can't understand Eleanor; there is 
 something on her mind and it promises no 
 good for us. Have you noticed her peculiar 
 manner lately?" asked Maude, coming into 
 Eva's room one night. 
 
 Eva, combing her colorless hair, halted with 
 her arm upraised. "The very thing Aunt 
 Norton said to-day! What can it be?" 
 
 "I don't know, but whatever it is, it means 
 ill luck to us. "When did Aunt Norton first 
 notice it?" 
 
 "She said that for several weeks she had 
 seen it coming on, in fact almost ever since the 
 scene over Mrs. Van Buskirk's letter." 
 
 "That turned out badly enough, and just 
 when it seemed to promise so well," resumed 
 Maude. "I could wring old Mrs. Howard's 
 neck. If it had not been for her, William would 
 never have made peace with Eleanor, after the 
 awful way in which she talked to him. That 
 was indeed a scene to remember! How Wil- 
 liam cowered before her when she said : ' I will 
 kill you with my naked hands ' ; his knees shook 
 
 1TO
 
 THE JUDGMENT 171 
 
 so lie could hardly stand. I believe he thought 
 she intended to do it right then." 
 
 "Well, I did, too. I never was so frightened 
 in my life," declared Eva. "I sincerely wish 
 she had, and then since they have no children, 
 we would have gotten more than we are ever 
 likely to have while "William lives." 
 
 A few days later, Manning rushed into the 
 house in a rhapsody of joy. He had just come 
 from Dr. Bryan, and sought his wife, almost 
 frenzied with delight, capering round her like 
 an enraptured sparrow. "My darling wife, I 
 am so happy, so happy," he reiterated. Intent 
 upon his own extravagant pleasure, he did not 
 notice the utter lack of responsiveness in her, 
 for his mind was filled with joy at his dis- 
 covery. "A son! It must be a son," he cried 
 over and over to himself and to her. 
 
 A spasm clouded Eleanor's pale face, which 
 even her strong will could not entirely conquer. 
 "My precious angel, you are ill. Call the 
 maid; send for the doctor! She must not be 
 sick! oh, no, I could not stand it now. She 
 must be well; she must be happy! somebody 
 go; don't stand there like a damned idiot, 
 James," raging at the hurrying servant. 
 "Madame is ill! For God's sake send for the 
 doctor! Go, you fool!" and he pranced more 
 wildly in his anxiety than in his joy.
 
 172 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Eleanor interrupted him: "No, no, I am not 
 ill. Do not send for Dr. Bryan. It was only 
 a momentary pain." 
 
 "But, my darling, you must not have a mo- 
 mentary pain. You must be happy, and well. 
 No, we must have the doctor, my angel. Go, 
 James." But at the strange note in Eleanor's 
 voice repeating: "No, I will not have him. I 
 do not want him. I will not see him," 
 while the blood rushed to her face, and 
 crimsoned its surface, lately so pale, Man- 
 ning terrified at her excitement, hastened 
 to change the order and to assure her: "Then 
 you shall not, my darling, you shall do just as 
 you like in everything. Oh, yes, you shall have 
 your own way. No queen ever had more will- 
 ing service than shall be yours from this day. 
 My; darling girl, my precious wife, my dearest 
 angel," and he murmured on in unintelligent 
 rhapsodies. 
 
 When Mrs. Norton entered their sitting- 
 room, her nieces rose in unison. Maude's face 
 was filled with anger, and her black eyes shone 
 wickedly. Her sister's face was bathed with 
 tears, her swollen eyes and reddened nose vying 
 with each other in point of color. 
 
 "Girls, girls, this is awful!" gasped the 
 astonished old woman, hardly able to speak for 
 rage. At the sight of her, Maude's anger cul-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 173 
 
 minated in a rush of tears and Eva's ever ready 
 flood broke forth anew. 
 
 "I could kill her! I could kill her!" Maude 
 stormed. 
 
 Mrs. Norton looked on in silence. Chagrin 
 and anger for once in her life almost silenced 
 her tongue. 
 
 "Ola, Aunt Norton, what shall we do?'* 
 wailed Eva. 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure, unless, as Maude so 
 often suggests, you kill her," her aunt an- 
 swered, and Eva, taking her literally, com- 
 plained: "But "William is going to send us 
 away. He says the sight of us is unpleasant 
 to her." 
 
 "Just think of being sent out of your 
 father's home for her!" broke in Maude. 
 
 "Did he speak to you, Aunt Norton?" Eva 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, he said he'd like to have me take both 
 of you to live with me; that he would make a 
 very liberal allowance ; but when I told him that 
 I did not care to assume a task he himself was 
 tired of, he coolly said that he would send for 
 your mother's sister, and set you up with her. 
 He says he is determined that you shall not 
 stay here to disturb his adored wife. Ha ! ha ! 
 ha!" and her laugh was worse than her words. 
 
 The sisters did not enjoy their aunt's visit.
 
 174 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Neither her manner nor her words poured any 
 oil of comfort on the troubled waters of their 
 distress, and when she was gone, they looked 
 at each other with rekindled animosity. "Mean 
 old thing, she is just like William. They both 
 enjoy our grief and humiliation," they cried. 
 Eleanor did not often meet them in the re- 
 maining few days, of their stay, for it was de- 
 cided by their brother that they go to their 
 maternal aunt at once. When money speaks 
 aloud, material things are quick to obey, and 
 within a week the new home was ready, and 
 with their soft-spoken, pale-faced and obedient 
 widowed aunt, they took up their abode. Mrs. 
 Roberts was entirely willing to assume the role 
 of chaperone for her nieces in exchange for the 
 liberal allowance so unexpectedly proposed by 
 her hitherto indifferent nephew. When Man- 
 ning told his sisters of his plan for them, and 
 the cause of it, the storm of their surprised 
 chagrin an.d anger burst on his head, until the 
 glitter came to his eyes, and he let loose on 
 them a counter storm of vituperation and 
 threats, which drove them dumb. "Dare to 
 say another word, ' ' he cried, ' ' and I swear that 
 I'll never give you another penny. You know 
 I can and will reduce you to your pitiful an- 
 nuity and make you live on it if you dare to 
 open your mouths again." His wrath silenced
 
 THE JUDGMENT 175 
 
 and frightened them until they accepted with 
 a pretense of willingness the terms he offered. 
 After their departure, the stillness of the 
 house was maddening to Eleanor's over- 
 wrought nerves, but this was not so bad as the 
 delirium of her husband's joy. In her extrem- 
 ity of nervousness, he learned that he must 
 curb his exhibitions of delight, and in lieu of 
 that, he adopted the making of handsome gifts 
 as a demonstration of his joy. Exquisitely 
 rare jewels filled her caskets; costly laces ran 
 riot in her wardrobe, and as a last proof, he 
 increased her jointure to an independent for- 
 tune. But none of these things brought back 
 the sparkle to her sad eyes, nor filled with in- 
 terest her unmoved face. Colder than ever, ap- 
 parently more unfeeling, she moved among 
 them automaton like, as if oppressed by a 
 deadly, secret woe ; refusing all companionship, 
 she withdrew herself, until those who watched 
 her awaited, in dread suspense, signs of a men- 
 tal collapse. But her strong will did not desert 
 her, and the collapse did not come. The far- 
 away look grew and deepened; she sat for 
 hours, her hands idle in her lap, her eyes fixed 
 in an unseeing gaze before her. Succeeding 
 days brought no relief to her painful lethargy 
 until Manning's anxiety amounted almost to 
 madness. All his attempts at tenderness were
 
 176 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 met by the same repellent coldness, holding him 
 off alarmed and frightened. 
 
 "Do not distress her. Let her entirely 
 alone. It will all come right," Dr. Bryan in- 
 sisted, but to Manning each day was an increas- 
 ing agony, and they told on him with cruelty. 
 One day as Dr. Bryan was leaving, he called 
 him into the study, and closed the door. "I 
 cannot stand it any longer, Doctor," he whis- 
 pered, "I could not bear to lose her now; this 
 strain will kill me." The doctor answered: 
 "Wait a little while; a change is coming soon." 
 
 One night Eleanor woke with a start. In 
 her dream a tender arm was round her, a voice 
 had thrilled her soul. "That voice again!" 
 she cried in anguish. "0! God, send me mer- 
 ciful oblivion shut my ears to that insistent 
 sound. Silence that voice, God! or I shall 
 die. I cannot, dare not listen. It racks my 
 soul; it tears anew my aching heart. Dear 
 God, let me forget!" and she tried to smother 
 in the pillows the sound of her sobs. 
 
 Does God answer prayers when He some- 
 times sends us anew the grief from which we 
 murmur! To Eleanor this answer came. 
 
 Beneath her starved and aching heart that 
 never yet was filled with joy, it began to thrill. 
 In her stormy grief she listened; her sobs 
 ceased, till almost afraid to breathe, she waited
 
 THE JUDGMENT 177 
 
 for she knew not what. Slowly it came again ; 
 at first, merely a thrill, half pain, half joy; then 
 her hand sought her heart in painful rapture 
 at the now fully understood message. "Dear 
 God!" she cried, "I understand." 
 
 Months later all was excitement in the Man- 
 ning house. "Doctor, doctor, stop! I beg of 
 you; tell me quickly how she is." 
 
 "All right, Manning. She's all right. 
 Don't be uneasy," assured Dr. Bryan, himself 
 half crazed with dread. 
 
 Through her half shut door, the sound of 
 Mrs. Howard's weeping could be heard. "My 
 poor child, she will die! I know she will die; 
 and what will I do?" she cried over and over. 
 As Manning entered the room, she dashed to- 
 ward him and caught his arm, "Tell me, Wil- 
 liam, how is she? Is she dying? Tell me 
 quickly. Will she die?" The man turned 
 away; "Don't ask me that; I do not know," he 
 sobbed aloud. 
 
 For Eleanor was now fighting a new battle, 
 and as always, unaided. Dauntless and brave, 
 she descended into the shadows of the yawn- 
 ing chasms of death, to peer therein, and find 
 them peopled with ugly gruesome flitting 
 shapes that mocked her agony. 
 
 The hours were long; the night seemed like 
 a lifetime filled with pain ; but after all, the day
 
 178 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 came, and with it a weak little cry Heralding 
 that oft repeated mystery of life. Louder than 
 the hammers beating into her tortured brain, 
 she heard that little cry and forgot all else. 
 ''Ah!" she breathed, in a long drawn sigh of 
 joy. 
 
 Dr. Bryan came toward her, and as he bent 
 above her, his streaming tears fell on her face : 
 "Your little son, Eleanor." He tried to con- 
 quer his shaking voice, and laid within her out- 
 stretched, eager arms, a sweet, soft, yielding 
 bundle. Then God opened his Heavenly gates 
 and flooded her heart with joy, engulfed her, 
 lifted up, and bore her soul aloft in bliss most 
 unalloyed. "My own," she murmured, "my 
 dear, my own!" and tighter held the little bun- 
 dle. It moved in protest at the too close em- 
 brace, and she loosened her hold to look within ; 
 two big, round wondering eyes met hers and 
 then and there with strange, new, all-sufficing 
 joy, the woman's soul was born; and mother 
 greeted son. 
 
 "May I come in, Doctor?" a hushed but 
 eager voice asked at Eleanor 's door. 
 
 The old man looked at Eleanor, but she was 
 all intent upon what lay within the hollow of 
 her arm, and had not heard the question. "It 
 has to be," the old man told himself, and looked 
 again at the quiet figure, whose shining eyes lit
 
 THE JUDGMENT 179 
 
 the pale face with the radiance of mother love 
 that had stormed and captured the woman's 
 heart. 
 
 Again the whisper came: "Doctor, let me 
 come for just a moment; I cannot wait," and 
 the door opened silently, admitting a softly 
 stepping figure. 
 
 "What will she do?" the old man breathed, in 
 dread of the effect on Eleanor, but she scarcely 
 noticed him. Even when Manning leaned 
 above the baby form, his breath coming quick- 
 ly, his face twitching and pallid, she made no 
 sign. 
 
 "Lift him up; I must see him," he begged 
 the nurse. But when she bent toward the child 
 to lift him, Eleanor spoke: "No I" 
 
 Dr. Bryan laid his hand upon her arm and 
 stopped the words before she uttered them. 
 "You shall have him again, my dear," and he 
 lifted the child and turned to Manning, saying 
 hurriedly : l ' They are all that way at first ; they 
 do not like to have anyone touch the little fel- 
 lows but themselves." 
 
 In his ecstasy, Manning forgot his wife's for- 
 bidding word and lifted a cautious, outstretched 
 finger to stroke the soft, little, rosy face. At 
 the touch, the baby yelled a lusty, loud objec- 
 tion, and Eleanor cried : "Bring him back to me ; 
 you hurt him. ' ' Though disconcerted, her hus-
 
 180 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 band's laugh was yet a happy one. The little 
 voice had thrilled him through and through. 
 To cover his nervousness he coughed, and 
 turned to Dr. Bryan: "Fine little chap, Doctor, 
 fine little chap. I intend to trade you that 
 property down the avenue for him." 
 
 The Doctor forced a laugh: "All right, and 
 I'll deed it hack at once to my little Godson, for 
 Eleanor promises me this ; and also that I name 
 him." 
 
 "Oh, no, no! surely I'll do that," Manning 
 stammered, but Dr. Bryan laughed again. 
 "No, she and I for that, Manning; his name 
 must be Joseph Howard, or we'll take him 
 right away from you." 
 
 Weak with happiness, Manning gave in. "All 
 right, Doctor, anything you say; just give me 
 the boy, and name him what you please. Might 
 I kiss Eleanor?" 
 
 "If she says so," the old man mumbled un- 
 easily. Manning bent to touch her forehead, 
 but she did not move her head. Her eyes again 
 were fixed upon the wonderfully little atom 
 that was filling her mind, her heart and her life 
 with the strange new joy of motherhood. 
 
 Not long after, a crowd of men were standing 
 on the clubhouse steps. ' ' By George ! ' ' laughed 
 Bobby Van Arsdale, as Manning hurried by 
 them, "you have deserted us lately."
 
 THE JUDGMENT 181 
 
 "Better things at home," answered Manning 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 "Funny to see the change in Manning, isn't 
 it!" remarked Hilbrandt. "It seems to be 
 a mighty little cause for such great effect." 
 
 Van Arsdale laughed again: "Yes, little, but 
 that doesn't count. It appears that in one gal- 
 lant fight, Sir Knight, the Baby, has put to 
 rout Manning's entire collection; mistress, 
 sisters and even the venomous old aunt have all 
 gone down to this new foe." 
 
 The men listened and laughed, and one said : 
 "I guess Mrs. Van Buskirk is fixed for good. 
 There's hardly any prospect for her to climb 
 the social ladder on Manning's shoulders now; 
 you remember her bold assurance at the last 
 horse show? Pretty hard on her to tumble 
 down so far, and fall so hard, isn't it?" 
 
 "Didn't count on the baby, I guess." 
 
 "No, not she." 
 
 "Well, Manning surely counts on him now," 
 declared Van Arsdale. "All I have seen of 
 him for weeks is the twinkle of his shining little 
 feet as he flies down the stairs, hurrying 
 home." 
 
 The next day they waylaid him: "How 
 many teeth, Manning?" "How is the baby's 
 papa?" "What is good for colic, Manning?" 
 cried a chorus of three voices.
 
 182 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "That's all right, boys, laugh all you like; 
 you're only mad because you haven't one." 
 
 "Me ! Oh, Lord, just listen to him ! How his 
 morals are perverted! Why should I have 
 one I ' ' cried Bobby, retreating from him. 
 
 They all joined in the laugh at Bobby's mock 
 consternation, but Manning was too much in 
 earnest in his new found joy, to care for what 
 they said. 
 
 Gordon-Leigh's voice hardly concealed his 
 envy: "Boys beat girls; know you're glad, old 
 man." 
 
 "Yes, I am," Manning answered. "You 
 know it's the rule in my family to make the sons 
 the heirs, and I wanted my name to go down 
 with my money. ' ' 
 
 "By the way, Manning, I hear you've already 
 set him up," called Van Arsdale across the 
 long table. 
 
 "Yes, I'll settle enough on him now, so that 
 if I go under he will have something left," Man- 
 ning replied. 
 
 "Something left! Well, I should say so! 
 He made a new will and settled one million on 
 his wife and fifty millions on the baby. I guess 
 there would be something left," Hilbrandt told 
 his neighbor. 
 
 "Phew!" whistled the man, "how much has 
 he?"
 
 THE JUDGMENT 183 
 
 "So much that he doesn't know himself," 
 Hilbrandt answered, "and it's a positive sin 
 the way he continues to make it." 
 
 "Lucky dog, I should say; beautiful wife, 
 phenomenal baby and too much money. No 
 wonder he hops around like a demented black- 
 bird. It has gone to his head." 
 
 One day Manning laid a long, thick envelope 
 on the table at Eleanor's side: "A little present 
 for you and the baby," he explained. 
 
 She was holding her child in her arms watch- 
 ing its sleep, with eyes that never tired and did 
 not open the paper. 
 
 "It is my will," he said. 
 
 "Yes?" she answered, still looking at the 
 little face. 
 
 "Do you feel no interest?" he asked, his tone 
 exhibiting some irritation. 
 
 "Oh, yes, but I was looking at him." 
 
 "Well, I'll leave it, and you can read it when 
 you please. It makes you both very rich." 
 
 "Yes," she answered again, but still she 
 watched the child, who had moved in his sleep, 
 and thrown out one pink and dimpled hand as 
 if clutching at an unseen phantom form. 
 
 Mrs. Howard, sitting beside the fire, looked 
 up at Manning, and smiled : * ' He is talking with 
 the angels, William. Did you see him throw 
 up his hands as if to catch them, and smile in
 
 184 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 his sleep? When a sleeping baby smiles, old 
 nurses say that they talk to angels." 
 
 "Well, I'd a lot rather he'd talk to me," re- 
 turned Manning, gazing down on him. 
 
 Mrs. Howard laughed again. "I've seen 
 many foolish parents, but you two take the lead. 
 You have almost deserted your club, your busi- 
 ness and all your former amusements, while as 
 for Eleanor, she can scarcely breathe away from 
 the baby's side. She sends the nurse away at 
 night, and has him sleep in her own bed, which 
 is bad for both herself and him. You see how 
 she spends the days. I predict that before long 
 this entire household will have become nothing 
 more than one large nursery, while everyone in 
 it develops into another servant for this young 
 tyrant." Manning frowned at her words, but 
 Eleanor only smiled, her eyes still on the little 
 face. 
 
 Mrs. Howard's voice grew a little sharp: 
 "It is nothing short of foolishness to shut our- 
 selves up in this way. The baby will last. Why 
 should we not have some of our old pleasures, 
 as we did before he came?" and she looked at 
 her audience. Eleanor still smiled, but when 
 she saw that her husband's frown had deepened 
 into a decided scowl at her mother 's words, she 
 said: "By all means, mother, go where and 
 when you like. As for me, my pleasure is here,
 
 THE JUDGMENT 185 
 
 and I have had it too short a time ; it is too new 
 and strange to leave it for society so soon." 
 Her husband here joined in : "And I was deuced 
 tired of the senseless gabble I heard everywhere 
 before we had him, and I'm going to stay about 
 him just as long as I like. Of course, though, 
 as Eleanor says, we needn't keep you at home." 
 
 "I shall go out, then, as before, but I still 
 think it very silly of Eleanor. No one does it 
 nowadays. You'll see how very tired she'll 
 grow," Mrs. Howard prophesied. 
 
 No answer, but Eleanor's quiet smile, as she 
 held the sleeping child a little closer to her. 
 1 'Tired of you, darling!" she whispered, when 
 they left her, * ' tired of you ! ' ' and she laughed 
 softly, "of you, my own, my heart and very 
 life. Ah, no; not while the stars wink their 
 secrets to us ; the moon sheds her beams in sil- 
 ver shafts to lighten night's darkness, or the 
 glorious old sun floods our daily walk with radi- 
 ance as bright as our love. Tired, oh, no ! Not 
 now, that life has grown so sweet ; not now, that 
 each day is like a song of joy, each hour a 
 bright gem in pleasure's diadem. As well tell 
 the dying wanderer to thrust away the cool 
 water of life from his parched and burning lips, 
 as tell me to leave you, my little one." 
 
 The next day, in the nursery, Eleanor waited 
 while the nurse prepared her son's morning
 
 186 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 bath. The soft, rubber folding bath tub was 
 filled with foamy sweet-scented water. The 
 rosy, little child was enthroned in his mother's 
 arms, waiting for the dip he loved. The nurse 
 hurried about collecting and laying out in readi- 
 ness the dainty little garments, the powders and 
 soft, small brushes. Everything breathed of 
 sweetness, but to Eleanor none of it was half so 
 sweet as the warm, pink body of the little child. 
 She held it close to her face, delighting in the 
 satin smoothness of the baby skin. How soft 
 and sweet he felt, as she rubbed her face against 
 the little form. The child, looking at her, cooed 
 his pleasure. She caught him close ; and again, 
 closer, closer. "0-h, darling! How I love 
 you ! How I love you ! ' ' her voice broke in half 
 sobs of joy. "Mine! Mine! All mine!" 
 Again he cooed. Ah! the music of the baby 
 tones! Tears gathered in the mother's eyes 
 as she held him close, hiding her face against 
 him. 
 
 Ah! Eleanor, you have your joy at last, but 
 does not the price you paid sometimes rob that 
 joy of sweetness? The memory of a voice, the 
 thoughts that surge round and storm your 
 heart, refusing to be banished! 
 
 Her heart's painful throbbing stifling her, she 
 cried: "Why need it be? Must I suffer this 
 eternal expiation? Must I ever long for some
 
 THE JUDGMENT 187 
 
 forbidden joy? Shall the sweetness of mother 
 love be tainted by the bitterness of memory? 
 Oh ! it is my punishment, and cruel as it is, I 
 acknowledge its justice; for tortured now as 
 lost souls must be tortured, I love, yes I love 
 him; and I want oh, God! I want my child's 
 father." 
 
 But tears do not efface ; a bitter wail cannot 
 silence the tortured cries of conscience, nor re- 
 grets remove the consequences of sinful deeds; 
 and in our hours of greatest joy, memory oft 
 points a scornful finger to a blackened spot re- 
 minding us: "How dare you laugh, while yet I 
 live, to place upon your joy my blighting 
 touch!" In each man's soul there lies the sin- 
 sick knowledge of his own unworthiness. It 
 binds our souls to earth with chains of steel. 
 We cannot sunder them; we cannot lift our 
 hearts above their cumbering weight; but He, 
 the maker of us all, can touch them with a 
 breath, and lo! they break apart, and won- 
 drous thing our hearts that lay beneath, black- 
 ened by sin, trembling with unworthiness, and 
 bowed to earth with human helplessness, arise, 
 and soar to Him on the spotless wings of faith, 
 purified and healed by that eternal sacrifice 
 that cleanses all. 
 
 Another day. Eleanor was standing at her 
 open window in the early Spring sunshine, hold-
 
 188 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 ing her little son in her arms, as her husband 
 entered the room. 
 
 "I found this at Tiffany's, and I thought you 
 might like it for the boy," he remarked, holding 
 out a little box. 
 
 She opened it, to find two dainty diamond 
 set sleeve clasps. "They are lovely!" and 
 she clasped them on the tiny sleeves, dis- 
 closing the rounded dimpled arm. "Sweet- 
 ness!" she cried, and bent to kiss the little 
 elbow. 
 
 "If they could see you now, Eleanor, all 
 would say the DeWitte painting was the most 
 wonderful likeness in the world," the man de- 
 clared in ecstasy at the lovely sight. 
 
 Eleanor tried to avoid her husband's eyes. 
 At every caress from him, every touch of his 
 hand, a spasm of pain or something deeper 
 crossed her face. 
 
 Manning's domesticity became a standing 
 joke among his friends, who laughed at it, and 
 wondered how long this state of things would 
 last. In his perverted nature, fad had followed 
 fad, passion had succeeded passion, and pleas- 
 ures once secured, soon lost their joy, to be 
 pushed aside for the next to come. 
 
 "Eleanor, I often think you are jealous of 
 the baby," her mother told her one morning, 
 after Manning's early visit to the child. "You
 
 THE JUDGMENT 189 
 
 never look very pleasant when William holds 
 him, and I wonder that he does not notice it." 
 
 "I hate his air of ownership," Eleanor an- 
 swered. 
 
 "Well, of all things! Hate to have the 
 child's own father assert his rightful claims! 
 You always had unpleasant traits, Eleanor, but 
 this amounts to more than all," Mrs. Howard 
 sniffed disgustedly. 
 
 "The child's own father! Oh, my God!" 
 Eleanor's heart wailed. "I do hate him more 
 and more. I loathe to have him touch my 
 child, and when he kisses him, my heart grows 
 hot and wild. Some day I shall betray myself. 
 Some day this acting will fall apart, and my 
 secret will disclose itself. But, no; for my 
 darling's sake, I dare not. I must forever act 
 a part ; must seem to care for that which I most 
 despise. But it is hard, so hard, to do." 
 
 "How fast he grows," she cried. "Three 
 months to-day; three months of sweetness you 
 have given me, my little boy. The dearest days 
 of all my life are these I spend with you." 
 
 But who dare attempt portrayal of the joys 
 of motherhood? Who can describe a mother's 
 ecstasy; a small head pillowed on her loving 
 breast; that throbbing source of succor to his 
 helplessness ? None need, for none but mothers 
 know.
 
 190 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Daily, they grow more sweet, more dear, more 
 lovable. Speak not with pity of the self-sacri- 
 ficing mothers giving up each dear desire, each 
 cherished pleasure, to stay at home, attend and 
 care for the growing families that make the 
 world. Instead of pity, grant them envy if 
 you must, for surely in this world of ours there 
 lives no other soul so filled with joy as that in 
 partnership with God, who feels itself the 
 source of life and comfort for the precious little 
 baby souls committed to their care. 
 
 Five months had come to Eleanor's little son, 
 and with the day, appeared a tiny pearl in rosy 
 coral setting. The nurse said: "He has a 
 tooth," and laughed in pride; but the mother 
 knew it as a jewel that had come to earth, and 
 fondly looked for those that followed it. 
 
 At eight months ; see him totter on his weak, 
 uncertain feet, while on her knees she begged 
 him: "Come, dearest, come to me," and when 
 he tried to come, she called again: "Come, 
 come, ' ' to catch him ; fold him in her arms, and 
 cry in rapture: "His first step; oh, my dear, 
 my little one, my own!"
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 " MANNING'S settlement on his boy is certainly 
 an exponent of his fatherly love," said John 
 Hilbrandt, at the club, as he lay down the paper. 
 
 "Isn't it!" rejoined Van Arsdale. 
 
 "Cut the two sisters up pretty badly, I hear; 
 they say Maude has been raving ever since the 
 news came." 
 
 "Poor Eva," laughed Hilbrandt, "I guess 
 her nose will never recover from the traces of 
 her tears." 
 
 Van Arsdale 's laugh rang out again: "Too 
 bad, too bad ; one hundred thousand each, offset 
 by a cool million for the wife. I wish I might 
 have viewed the scene. I wonder if Manning 
 had the nerve to break the news to them, or 
 if he left them to find it out by chance. Poor 
 girls; they won't even have enough to buy a 
 little Frenchman. Too bad, too bad," and both 
 men laughed again. 
 
 "Manning certainly has the 'dust,' " Hil- 
 brandt went on. "I hear that besides the mil- 
 lion to the wife, there will be nearly one hundred 
 million to descend to that one small boy. Great 
 
 191
 
 192 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Scott ! It makes me faint," and he leaned back 
 in a simulated collapse. 
 
 Van Arsdale grinned: "You could pay your 
 debts on that, eh, John?" 
 
 Hilbrandt looked up: "If Manning were out 
 of the way, I'd like to try for the million. By 
 George! I wish I could," he added. 
 
 "Manning can't stand this strain long. Bet- 
 ter be ready, John; faint heart, you know," 
 Bobby reminded him. 
 
 "Too stupendous luck for me, and besides I 
 couldn't stand to live in the house with that 
 little chap. The temptation to kill him would 
 be too strong. I guess I'd better not enter the 
 race," he grinned. "But wouldn't it be a hot 
 one?" 
 
 In their new home the Manning sisters had 
 seen the paper. 
 
 "I simply cannot bear it," Maude cried, her 
 face twitching with anger and grief. "Why 
 couldn't he have died before that baby came?" 
 
 "It is awful," wailed Eva, "no one will ever 
 notice us now. One hundred thousand! Just 
 think ! We will have to do on one maid between 
 us, and you always keep one busy, Maude, you 
 know you do. ' ' 
 
 "A million dollars for her!" and Maude's 
 teeth snapped, "and all the rest of it, all the 
 rest of it to that child."
 
 THE JUDGMENT 193 
 
 As Mrs. Norton was announced, Maude 
 started up in the hope of escape. "I will not 
 see her, ' ' she cried, ' ' she has only come to twit 
 us with this awful thing." But her aunt inter- 
 cepted her flight. 
 
 "Don't run away, my dear," in acid tones, 
 "it is only I, and I have come to sympathize 
 with you about William's settlements. He has 
 certainly cut you and Eva out. I am so sorry 
 for your poor luck, for surely I, more than any- 
 one, know just why you shed these tears. I 
 was defrauded by my brother, your father, and 
 I know full well the chagrin which fills you 
 now." They could not speak. "Poor things, 
 they feel it keenly, ' ' she remarked, as if to her- 
 self, then went on : " Ah ! me ! I did not realize 
 the influence of his wife, for of course, it is her 
 doing." As she spoke, she cast on them a 
 searching look. "Do you not think a personal 
 appeal to Eleanor might avail to make him en- 
 large your shares?" 
 
 Maude sprang to her feet, her eyes darting 
 fire. "What! Beg of her! Aunt Norton you 
 forget yourself!" while Eva complained: "It 
 would do no good; she would let him give us 
 nothing more." The old woman's malicious 
 face shone with her wicked glee. * * Perhaps you 
 might try, Eva." 
 
 "Are you thinking of the many times you
 
 194 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 pleaded for more, Aunt Norton?" Maude cried 
 desperately. The shaft went home. "How 
 dare you, Miss!" she glared at her niece; but 
 Maude, now thoroughly aroused, was quite her 
 match. "How dare you?" she returned, her 
 black eyes blazing, "you did it; on your knees 
 you begged father for more than was given you, 
 but I want to tell you once for all, that before 
 I sink to that, I will step off the Brooklyn 
 Bridge. True, I am your niece, but there the 
 likeness ends." She left the room, and Eva 
 had to face alone the old woman's insane anger. 
 When at last she was gone, Eva sought her 
 sister and dropped weakly into a chair. 
 "Maude!" she gasped, "how could you? I 
 thought she would die." 
 
 "I wish she would before she gets home to 
 change her will," Maude answered. "That 
 would perhaps have helped us some." 
 
 "Well, we'll never get it now," wailed Eva. 
 
 "Did she say so?" 
 
 "Say so! Heavens ! If you could have seen 
 her face." Eva's hands were trembling, her 
 face was pale and even her nose was fading. 
 
 "I couldn't help it; she made me say it. I 
 don't believe she meant to leave us anything 
 anyway," Maude tried to reassure herself. 
 
 For some months Mrs. Howard had been fail- 
 ing, but no persuasion upon Eleanor's part
 
 THE JUDGMENT 195 
 
 could induce her to forego the pleasures of so- 
 ciety. She had become devoted to "bridge," 
 and spent many hours of every day engaged in 
 the game, first at one house, then another, and 
 in this way used so much of her reduced 
 strength that her health suffered perceptibly. 
 11 There is nothing at home but the baby," she 
 complained, "and I must have some amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 But the day came when she was unable to 
 leave her bed, and soon the doctors gave the 
 verdict, "Double pneumonia a bad case." 
 With all her failing strength, she clung to Elea- 
 nor and was never willing that she should leave 
 her bedside. Night and day, she watched and 
 ministered, foregoing more than glimpses of 
 her boy. "Can't the nurses do all this?" Man- 
 ning urged, noting her tired face. "You 
 should save yourself for the boy." 
 
 "The doctors say that additional excitement 
 will kill her," she explained, "and as she is 
 always begging for me, I feel that I must 
 stay." 
 
 "It will not be long," said the doctors, and 
 Eleanor continued her service. After a long 
 hard day and restless night, the sick woman 
 opened her eyes. "Why don't you do some- 
 thing for me? I am sick so sick so sick 
 but you do not care," she quavered.
 
 196 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 " There, now, be quiet, and you will feel bet- 
 ter," urged the nurse. 
 
 "I will not. I'm tired of being quiet," the 
 weak voice complained. "Lift me up lift me 
 up." 
 
 "No, no," from the nurse. "Do not excite 
 yourself; you must not, you must obey me." 
 
 "I will not," the thin voice rose almost to a 
 shriek. * * I will, ' ' and she lifted herself quickly, 
 before they could prevent her. "Oh!" cried 
 the dismayed nurse, "you must lie down," but 
 too late ; the cruel strain had broken, and with 
 a half-strangled cry, the sick woman fell upon 
 her pillows. Her face, lately flushed with fever, 
 turned a violet hue, and she was suddenly quiet. 
 
 "What is it?" Eleanor cried, bending over 
 the bed, frightened at the rapid change. 
 
 "Be brave, Mrs. Manning, she is dead." 
 
 All that day, the words beat into her brain. 
 "She is dead! dead! dead! She is dead!" 
 Through all their persistent reiteration, they 
 seemed half meaningless. "What is the rea- 
 son?" she asked herself, "am I so heartless that 
 I cannot grieve for my own mother? She is 
 dead." But the only answer was that precise 
 repetition of sound : ' ' Yes, dead ; she is dead ! ' ' 
 
 "It was the shock," they said, as they lifted 
 Eleanor to the bed from the floor where she had 
 fallen. When at last she was aroused, she
 
 THE JUDGMENT 197 
 
 found the house closed and quiet. The serv- 
 ants passed on tiptoe through the darkened 
 rooms. Death had covered the place with his 
 gloomy black pall, and the majesty of his mys- 
 terious presence hushed every voice, and si- 
 lenced every step. 
 
 After her mother's funeral, the quiet house 
 oppressed Eleanor. Upon her heart lay a 
 heavy weight that even the baby wiles of little 
 Joe but half drove away. With self-reproach, 
 she acknowledged that the source of her unhap- 
 piness did not lie in her mother's loss. "I am 
 distressed ; of course I am. What woman could 
 fail to be?" she mused, but there her sorrow 
 ended. 
 
 Little Joe crept to her side, and with all his 
 might pulled on her skirts, demanding notice. 
 She looked down at him, then stooped, and 
 lifted him in close embrace. "What if the day 
 should come that he should feel like this 
 towards me?" She shuddered at the horrid 
 possibility, and in her heart was registered the 
 vow that " whatever the future brings, never 
 while I have breath to refuse my consent, shall 
 my child make for me the sacrifice of youth and 
 love and all its rights, for by such things as 
 these love often chills and dies." 
 
 Six months passed, and in that time Eleanor's 
 face showed plain traces of the cruel pressure
 
 198 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 under which she lived. Manning loved the 
 child with as deep a love as was in his selfish 
 nature to give, and found delight in tracing re- 
 semblances to himself in each of the beautiful 
 features of the baby face. 
 
 This pastime almost maddened Eleanor, but 
 Manning was too engrossed to often notice the 
 anger on her part, or if he did, attributed it to 
 "her woman's jealousy." 
 
 "To think that you could look like him," she 
 panted, searching the little face, and thinking- 
 thinking thinking 
 
 "I'll leave him in your hands for a little 
 while, but when he outgrows his babyhood, you 
 must then turn him over to me," he told her one 
 morning, when she had asked him not to inter- 
 fere with the outlined routine of the child's life. 
 "You are positively spiteful, Eleanor," he de- 
 clared another time. "It enrages you to see 
 how much the baby loves me. It is disgusting 
 to me to see a woman act as you do but you 
 might as well realize that your jealousy shall 
 not separate me and my son." 
 
 "Your son, oh, my God ! Your son. Never! 
 He is mine, all mine," her anguished jealous 
 heart repeated, still thinking, thinking, think- 
 ing 
 
 "Eleanor is not well, she needs a change,'* 
 Dr. Bryan told him, and Manning, fearful lest
 
 THE JUDGMENT 199 
 
 the boy lose his mother, agreed to send them 
 away for several months with the intention of 
 joining them later on. 
 
 One day the servant brought a card: "Mr. 
 Avery LeNoir," she read. Who was it! where 
 had she heard it before ? There was a familiar 
 sound to the name, although she could not place 
 it, and was still wondering when she entered 
 the room where the visitor awaited her. Brown 
 eyes and ruddy coloring brightened his hand- 
 some countenance. His dark hair was plenti- 
 fully sprinkled with gray, and the silver tint 
 lent an added air of distinction to his person- 
 ality. "Do you know me?" a pleasant voice 
 inquired, and the gentleman smiled, his brown 
 eyes gleaming at her apparent confusion. 
 "No," she answered, "and yet I feel that I 
 do." Her large dark eyes were fixed on his, 
 and there was a dawning pleasure in their 
 depths. 
 
 "I am your father's cousin," he answered, 
 and grasped her quickly outstretched hand. 
 
 "Ah, yes; from North Carolina. How glad 
 I am to meet you!" in quick interest. "I have 
 met so few of my father's people; in fact, you 
 are the first in years; and to know more of 
 them has always been my cherished hope." 
 
 "And we, too, have hoped to know you," he 
 assured her. The genial nature of the South
 
 200 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 was in them both, and soon they grew fast 
 friends. 
 
 During his brief visit he urged her to come 
 to the Old North State for recuperation. "In 
 the branches of its tall pines, the breezes whis- 
 per of health and joy, and I know it will be 
 good for you." Manning approved the plan, 
 and hastened her preparations for leaving. 
 He chose Asheville as her first stopping place. 
 Mr. and Mrs. LeNoir were to meet her there; 
 and she had promised to make them a visit at 
 their home in Ealeigh. 
 
 "You cannot fail to enjoy Asheville, " Dr. 
 Bryan told her, discussing the proposed trip, 
 "it is one of the most lovely spots I ever saw, 
 and its climate and beauty of scenery will soon 
 make you over again, my dear." 
 
 "Going to North Carolina! How strange, 
 how strange!" he afterward mused. "The 
 workings of Providence! If it should be! but 
 even so, it is hardly likely that they two should 
 meet. ' '
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HIGH: up the mountain, at Kenilworth Inn, Elea- 
 nor and little Joe found a temporary home. 
 From that magnificent location the eye is met 
 on every side by the wooded slopes of the sur- 
 rounding mountain, green as emerald in the 
 sunlight, but shading into darkness in the shad- 
 ows, and into shifting opal hues of blue and 
 lilac beneath the obscuring clouds that float 
 round their summits. Far to the West, the 
 mountains lie, their shadowy outlines half hid- 
 den by the mists. 
 
 Two weeks of undiluted pleasure they spent 
 together, winding down the narrow paths, gath- 
 ering the strange new flowers scattered pro- 
 fusely over the mountain sides, and searching 
 the woods for ferns that everywhere bordered 
 the rippling streams as they found their musical 
 way from the eternal springs, where from the 
 mountains down through the trees and flowers 
 they flowed to empty themselves into the rush- 
 ing waters of the river that bathed the moun- 
 tain's rocky foot. 
 
 Each day developed its own new joy, and 
 201
 
 202 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 little Joe was like a thing demented by Ms hap- 
 piness at the discovery of these hitherto un- 
 known, undreamed of pleasures. His clear, 
 white skin took on a browner tint; his large, 
 brown eyes sparkled more brightly, and the 
 clear music of his laughter floated on the warm 
 air; each note a gem in his mother's crown of 
 joy. Between themselves love seemed to find 
 perennial springs of never-failing strength to 
 feed anew their love. The people at the hotel 
 grew familiar with the sight of them wandering 
 off hand in hand, to explore some new nook, 
 where ferns flourished or where daisies nodded 
 their graceful heads on their long, upright 
 stems. Their rooms overflowed with the beauti- 
 ful burdens with which their arms were filled, 
 returning from these daily tramps. 
 
 Two undisturbed and happy weeks were 
 theirs before Mr. and Mrs. LeNoir came. To 
 them Asheville was an old story, but no one 
 could tire of its picturesque beauty or fail to 
 enjoy its bracing health-giving atmosphere. 
 
 Mrs. LeNoir was a rather small, slender wo- 
 man; her head, crowned with an abundance of 
 red-brown hair, was well held upon her slender 
 neck. Her clear, white skin was tinged with a 
 delicate pink in cheeks, and rich scarlet in her 
 curving lips. Her large, gray eyes gleaming 
 brightly with animation, attracted everyone she
 
 ,THE JUDGMENT 203 
 
 met. More than merely pretty, she possessed 
 that rarest of all charms the subtle fascina- 
 tion by which a friend is made, and afterwards, 
 kept. Between Eleanor and her a quick interest 
 developed, and quite equal to their friendship 
 was that which arose between Mr. LeNoir and 
 little Joe. Without children of his own, and 
 with few among his family, the man's heart 
 went out to the engaging child, who in that way 
 seen oftenest in children and in dogs, responded 
 lavishly to his affection. Augmenting the slight 
 relationship between them, he taught the child 
 to call him "Uncle," and they became good 
 comrades. 
 
 Joe, desirous of revealing to his new con- 
 federate the wonders of his recent discoveries, 
 led him along the paths and streams, pointing 
 out the springs that bubbled through the rocks, 
 emptying their overflow into the clear waters 
 of the nearby river. "It goes yite down to de 
 wibber," he explained. " Muddy taked off my 
 shoes and tockings so I could wade. Ess us 
 wade now, des you and me," his brown eyes 
 half shut, their smooth lids wrinkled in a quiz- 
 zical smile of understanding. 
 
 Before the coming of Mr. and Mrs. LeNoir, 
 Eleanor and the boy had spent most of their 
 time out of doors, rambling over the hillsides 
 and through the valleys, listening to the calling
 
 204: THE JUDGMENT 
 
 of the birds, enjoying the all pervading nat- 
 uralness of things, desiring little but themselves 
 and the wild beauty round them. In the spirit 
 of genial Southern hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. 
 LeNoir pressed upon Eleanor the acquaintance 
 of their Asheville friends, and through them it 
 was that she first learned of the real South. 
 
 * 'I am so delighted with your friends," Elea- 
 nor exclaimed to Mrs. LeNoir. "I never knew 
 such lovely people lived on earth." She half 
 laughed at her superlative words and as if ex- 
 cusing her warmth, continued: " You know I am 
 half Southern, and I now believe it is my greater 
 half. I have grown to love it all so soon." 
 
 "I wish we might keep you among us al- 
 ways," Mrs. LeNoir responded. 
 
 "You may, if you are not more careful how 
 you display your temptations," Eleanor 
 laughed again, as she uttered the light words, 
 but to herself, she added : ' ' I wish I might never 
 see New York again." 
 
 At the end of their two months' stay in Ashe- 
 ville, the LeNoirs returned to their home in 
 Kaleigh, and with them, Eleanor and the little 
 child, now grown fast friends, for their prom- 
 ised visit. 
 
 Mr. LeNoir had a great fondness for dogs, 
 and in their home there were four occupying 
 important places : Wiggles, Jap and Nick ; three
 
 THE JUDGMENT 205 
 
 frisky young Scotch terriers, and Shirley, the 
 mother of them all. Jap and Wiggles might 
 lay claim to beauty, but Nick was bow-legged, 
 shaggy and forlorn looking as ugly as he was 
 good, and as good as he could be. 
 
 To Nick, little Joe immediately attached him- 
 self, and the child with the dog made a funny 
 couple roaming round the big yard, chasing 
 butterflies by day and lightning bugs at night. 
 
 "He not plitty, but he so dood to me," little 
 Joe explained. 
 
 "Top ! Jap, don't shite my daug," they heard 
 his excited cry, and hurrying to the scene, Mr. 
 LeNoir turned, softly calling to his wife and 
 Eleanor to witness the struggle. Nick and Jap 
 were in the throes of battle ; snapping, snarling, 
 biting and teasing each other, while Joe stood 
 by, deep concern upon his face, calling out 
 again and again: "Top, Jap ! don't shite Nick." 
 
 Wiggles heard the sounds of warfare, and 
 came bounding over the lawn to the rescue of 
 her beloved Jap, as if fearing injury for him 
 at the hands of Nick, their joint enemy, and at 
 her appearance, the battle grew more fierce. 
 
 Shirley lay upon the steps in comfortable 
 middle-aged lethargy, but lifted her head at the 
 persistent yelping; then rising with a disap- 
 proving snarl, her hair bristling with anger at 
 the public misbehavior of her children, she
 
 206 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 raced toward them, an angry ball of fur bearing 
 swift punishment for the offenders. Into the 
 midst of them she jumped, distributing her 
 angry snaps and snarls on all sides with im- 
 partial justice. 
 
 This was too much for Joe, and despairing of 
 Nick's survival of the attacks of the combined 
 forces, he plunged boldly into the melee, 
 grasped Nick's neck with two protecting arms, 
 while with his sturdy little legs, he wielded 
 swift blows upon the late assailants of his fa- 
 vorite. 
 
 "Kit it! Jap kit it Shaily! do way, Wid- 
 dles!" he cried in angry tones. "Don't you 
 shite my daug!" The surprised dogs stood 
 back from the fierce little legs, but Nick was 
 choking in the tightly clasping arms, and strug- 
 gled wildly to escape. The baby voice grew 
 tender: "Be dood, Nick. I dot you, be dood," 
 till reassured, Nick grew quieter, and holding 
 tight around Nick's shoulders, Joe sank upon 
 the grass beside him, and the boy and his dog 
 thus challenged the world. 
 
 The laughter of the watchers did not discon- 
 cert him, as he turned to them explaining: "I 
 dot my daug. Dey was shitin' he." 
 
 "By George! he's a plucky little chap," Mr. 
 LeNoir cried admiringly, then turned to Joe: 
 "You shall have Nick, Joe, since you have res-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 207 
 
 cued him. He is your dog now, to keep, for al- 
 ways." 
 
 "An' lib wiv me?" the child asked, his eyes 
 bright and shining. 
 
 "Yes, your own to live with you always." 
 
 "Oh, doody! doody! doody! Nick's my daug! 
 Nick's my daug!" he cried, jumping wildly up 
 and down, then dashed to Mr. LeNoir and 
 clasped him around the knees. "I lub you, 
 Uncle Abewy, you'se dood to me," he gratefully 
 declared. 
 
 The LeNoir house looked upon an immense 
 front lawn, shaded with large trees and beauti- 
 fied by flowers. Raleigh is old and aristocratic, 
 its residents acknowledged the superior birth 
 and breeding of the old families, and even with' 
 the late influx of money and modernity, the 
 difference is widely marked as is shown by the 
 contemptuous comparisons of the servants. 
 "Dey's new folks. Ole Mistis is quality." 
 Mrs. Gregory, Mrs. LeNoir 's mother, was "Ole 
 Mistis." 
 
 The Gregory family homestead was a large 
 Colonial mansion, built in the style of long ago, 
 but unlike many of the old Southern home- 
 steads, which have unhappily gone to ruin, this 
 home was kept up as handsomely as of old. The 
 large lawns were smooth and green; the well- 
 trimmed trees shaded the rustic seats below*
 
 208 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 i 
 
 Flowers grew where they had bloomed for more 
 than a hundred years, dropping their seeds to 
 come again in the selfsame spots with each suc- 
 ceeding spring. The furniture was as brightly 
 polished as when first it graced the place when 
 Mrs. Gregory's grandmother, in stiff brocade 
 and rare old lace, swept from her coach, a new- 
 made bride, to enter the home prepared with in- 
 finite pains by her handsome young husband, 
 who held open the door, and bade her enter. 
 [From that day, the Gregory family had lived 
 there, each oldest son occupying the old home 
 with increasing pride. 
 
 The Civil War, that devastated the South of 
 the flower of her manhood, so thinned the ranks 
 of the Gregory family, that after its close but 
 few remained. Mr. Gregory, the oldest of his 
 family, was the only one of four brothers to re- 
 turn from that unhappy struggle, and he came, 
 bearing pistol wounds and sabre thrusts, 
 mementoes of its deadly struggles. 
 
 Though blessed with numerous children, but 
 three now remained to them; two daughters, 
 Mrs. LeNoir and Mary, a young girl of sixteen, 
 and one son Harold a man of thirty years. 
 
 Mary Gregory was a small, slender girl. 
 Her curling, brown hair was nearly black, and 
 her dark, brown eyes were bright with a mis- 
 chievous light. Her rich brunette skin was
 
 THE JUDGMENT 209 
 
 tinted like burnt ivory. She and her brother 
 Hal were constant companions. 
 
 "If you are not careful, Brother Hal, you 
 will be too old and feeble to take me out," she 
 said one day, teasing him. 
 
 "I think, perhaps, someone might be found 
 to take your old brother's place, in such an ex- 
 tremity, ' ' he laughed, pulling out a long, brown 
 curl, that hung behind her ear. 
 
 "Oh! Hal, I see you want to desert me. 
 Don't go back on me now about that hateful old 
 school. You've always been my friend," she 
 pleaded, her arms around him, her face pressed 
 close to his. 
 
 "Be good another year, little girl, and you 
 may then be free," he promised in a whisper. 
 
 "Eeally, Hal? Mother says two years." 
 
 "You be good and we will see." 
 
 "Oh, I will, if one hateful year is gone. You 
 are a darling old angel, Big Brother," and she 
 hugged him frantically. 
 
 "Ugh! what a little bear you are. You've 
 broken my neck, I declare," rubbing his neck 
 in mock distress. 
 
 Mary danced off laughing. "One year gone, 
 one year gone, one year gone," she chanted 
 gaily, dancing around him. 
 
 "Why, Mary, are you mad?" a laughing 
 voice inquired, and they turned to find Mrs. Le-
 
 210 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Noir and Eleanor coming up the path toward 
 them. Mrs. Gregory sat in her own special 
 summer-house, her favorite cross-stitch work in 
 her busy hands. Upon the soft path the new- 
 comers made little noise. "Come in, my 
 dears," she invited them. 
 
 "It is so lovely out of doors to-day, that I 
 left the house for the bright sunshine. Dear 
 child" she turned to Eleanor, taking her hand 
 "this is my boy, Harold ; I've told you of him, 
 you know. He made his mother happy when 
 he came home last night." 
 
 Harold's eyes met Eleanor's; the loveliest 
 eyes he had ever seen, the loveliest face, the 
 loveliest woman; and from that first look, his 
 admiration quickened. 
 
 "My mother has sung your praises, Mrs. 
 Manning, since I arrived last night. I am de- 
 lighted to meet you." 
 
 Eleanor's face was rosy, and filled with 
 laughter when she came up the path with Mrs. 
 LeNoir, but suddenly the rosy tint retreated, 
 and pallor overspread her face. 
 
 The man's voice gripped her heart with an 
 iron grasp of tormenting doubt and memory. 
 His gray eyes scanned her face, until she felt 
 that she must die. 
 
 "Oh, God! will he never look away," her an- 
 guished heart cried, but with a great effort, she
 
 THE JUDGMENT 211 
 
 answered him, her heart almost stilled with the 
 dread reality thrust upon it. How the morning 
 passed, she hardly knew, in her fevered excite- 
 ment, trying to appear at ease. 
 
 On the return drive Mrs. Lenoir said to 
 her: "My brother insists that he must have 
 met you previously. He says there is some- 
 thing which tells him that he has known you 
 before." 
 
 "Such things are very strange," Eleanor an- 
 swered, not daring to be silent, though her voice 
 was low and shaken. "But I think they often 
 happen." 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. LeNoir proceeded, "it almost 
 leads one to believe in the soul's transmigra- 
 tion, and that we have in other worlds known 
 and been known before we came to this." 
 
 Eleanor's eyes were far away and dreamy, 
 and the drive homeward was rather silent. 
 
 That night, when her child was sleeping, she 
 sank upon her knees beside her window, gazing 
 into the night. "Why did I come why did I 
 come here? What shall I do? To face him 
 again, I dare not. I am overtaken by my 
 shame," and her head fell upon the window- 
 seat as she crouched alone in the darkened 
 room. 
 
 At the end of the long hours, one thing was 
 plain to Eleanor; that she could not retreat.
 
 212 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 Her first impulse had been to leave Ealeigh and 
 even the State, immediately, but a second 
 thought had taught her the inadvisability of 
 such a move. First : the offence to her hostess, 
 who expected her to remain for the promised 
 visit, and then, what would Gregory think? 
 Might not the very act of her flight tend to dis- 
 close to him the secret of her identity. "No, 
 no, I must face him, but how? God help me, I 
 am punished indeed." But by the time that 
 light had vanquished darkness, all her plans 
 were made. She would remain in Kaleigh as 
 she had promised, but concerning him, she 
 would be so careful to avoid him, that no ex- 
 change of friendliness might even be attempted. 
 In her sophistry, she overlooked his part in the 
 program, disregarded, too, the fact that already 
 she had grown to love her ideal of an unknown 
 man, and that when wounded nature cries 
 aloud, reason's voice is hardly heard. 
 
 She believed she could conceal her identity. 
 "I will go away as soon as an opportunity pre- 
 sents itself," she assured herself. Preparing 
 to meet Gregory, as she knew she must, prepar- 
 ing also to shun his too close society, he grew 
 to occupy her mind almost to the exclusion of 
 other things. Even the child, about whom her 
 tenderest love had wrapped itself, became no 
 longer her only object. To evade him, to avoid 
 him, and yet to do it without exciting his sus-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 213 
 
 picions, she found it hard, for within a few days 
 of their first meeting, Gregory plainly showed 
 that his interest in her was intensely aroused, 
 by the way his eyes followed her movements, in 
 his manner of anticipating her every want, and 
 more than all, by the light that filled his blue- 
 gray eyes, and turned them into liquid sources 
 of tenderness. He knew that she was trying to 
 avoid him, and the reason sorely puzzled him. 
 When the realization found its way to his im- 
 petuous heart, he grimly determined: "I'll find 
 out why. ' ' 
 
 "She shuns me," he confided to his lone 
 cigar, after leaving the LeNoir home. "Won- 
 der what it is about me she dislikes so much. 
 I'd like to know so I could change it." As he 
 laughed, the laughter held a note not all of 
 pleasure. 
 
 In her room, Eleanor was telling her reflec- 
 tion: "I have made him hate me. I saw it in 
 his eyes when I refused to talk to him. Yes, 
 he hates me, hates me and despises me." Her 
 eyes were feverish, and her hands clasped and 
 unclasped themselves against her breast. "But 
 how he would despise and scorn me if he knew 
 the truth. Then he would spurn me from his 
 sight; expose me to his people; turn me from 
 his sister's house. I know the Southern idea 
 that man may fall away where'er he choose, 
 but one false step on woman's part, and she is
 
 214 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 past redemption. Oh! that I should have met 
 him, and the sight of him should now so tor- 
 ture me ! The look that comes into his eyes is 
 not always that of hatred, and when it comes, 
 my soul trembles before it, like frail grasses in 
 the breeze. Yes, and like the grass, I bow to 
 earth under the compellment of his strength. 
 But I must not succumb; I must struggle on 
 against him, however hard the way may be, to 
 prevent his finding out." 
 
 In the early morning sunshine, Eleanor, 
 standing at her open window, after an unquiet 
 night, was greeted by a sight that thrilled her 
 heart with anguished dread ; like an icy band it 
 closed around it. Gregory, advancing toward 
 the house, met the child playing with the dogs, 
 and stopped to talk with him, his tall, straight 
 form bent toward the laughing child, as he 
 listened to his words. Suddenly he lifted his 
 head and laughed aloud, and mingling with his 
 mellow tones, the childish voice chimed in. The 
 watching woman heard, and at the sound her 
 heart contracted with quick pain ; then through 
 her like a wave, surged upward from her beat- 
 ing heart a sudden ecstasy of joy. Through all 
 her fear and dread, this joy found its way, and 
 stronger than all else, drove fear and dread 
 before it. Sweet and subtle, like the incense to 
 the ancient gods, it spread throughout her soul ;
 
 THE JUDGMENT 215 
 
 for nature had awakened, and demanded her 
 own. 
 
 A few mornings later, the little figure in the 
 scarlet coat and cap, made an attractive spot 
 of color flying over the lawn, followed and sur- 
 rounded by the playful little dogs. Down the 
 broad street a torn-down wagon plodded its 
 slow way, while perched upon the insecure seat 
 were two brown-faced pickaninnies whistling 
 like bright-eyed birds. 
 
 Joe stopped his play to listen to the boys, but 
 Nick and Jap were unappreciative of the mel- 
 ody and dashed toward the gate in yelping 
 wrath, threatening the intruders on their peace, 
 with voice and angry attitude. The music 
 stopped with the wagon, while from the seat the 
 pickaninnies laughed. "Dems bad dawgs, 
 sho's yo' bawn," one cried in glee. "Look at 
 de little un he's mos' es big es mah fis," and 
 again the happy laugh rang out. 
 
 "See the long-legged un, am' he a sight? 
 Sic 'im, Tige," the other yelled at Nick, who 
 barked and yelped more fiercely in return. 
 
 Joe was quick to recognize the insult, and he, 
 too, swelled with anger. "Top dat, nigger 
 do 'way," he cried imperiously. The brown 
 faces convulsed anew ; the red mouths stretched 
 wide in laughter at the sight of the funny little 
 figure of rage, standing within the gate.
 
 216 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 "Ain' 'e mad?" one cried. "He's a' goin' 
 to eat us.'* 
 
 "I reckon we better git," his companion an- 
 swered, pretending fear. 
 
 Just then Mr. LeNoir appeared at the door 
 to investigate the cause of the disturbance, but 
 at the ludicrous sight that met him, he hid 
 again to watch its termination. 
 
 Down the street the wagon rolled, each wheel 
 at a different angle, each of them emitting its 
 separate creak of protest at the necessity to 
 move. The old horse shambled lazily along, 
 undisturbed by its driver's sharp "gittap" or 
 the familiar snap of the leather whip. 
 
 'Looking back, the boys cried: "Sic' 'im, 
 Tige," and all the dogs joined in: "Bow-wow- 
 wow wow-wow ! ' ' 
 
 At a loss to further vent his unappeased 
 wrath, Joe stood a moment gazing at the re- 
 treating wagon; then as if struck by a sudden 
 happy thought, he, too, joined in the chorus: 
 1 'Bow-wow-bow-wow- wow!" his little body 
 bending back and forth, his whole frame con- 
 vulsed by the fierceness .of his assault. 
 
 "Hello! Joe, have you turned dog?" a voice 
 inquired, as Harold Gregory, convulsed with 
 laughter at the funny sight, came around the 
 corner. "Tell me about it," he insisted, and 
 Joe related the tale.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 217 
 
 "And so you barked at them with Nick, did 
 you?" Mrs. LeNoir had joined them, and 
 Gregory winked at her, as he asked the question. 
 
 "Ma'am I did," the child replied. 
 
 During the days that followed, Eleanor found 
 that she could not, without positive rudeness, 
 avoid Gregory's society, for he was determined 
 that she should not evade him. With a lover's 
 eyes, he looked in hers, and saw therein what 
 she believed she hid; uneasiness and nervous 
 dread of his scrutiny. Although unable to 
 solve the reason for its being, the way in which 
 she vainly sought to shield herself hurt him, 
 until one day, in an unguarded moment, the 
 mask slipped aside, and beneath its shadow 
 Gregory saw that which set his pulses bound- 
 ing, his heart beating with unexpected joy. 
 The look was hidden again almost as soon as 
 seen, for into his face had leaped an answering 
 light to warn her of her danger. But Gregory 
 did not forget the glimpse he caught, and the 
 remembrance of it robbed her coldness of its 
 chill. 
 
 In the meantime, since progress with the 
 mother was so difficult to make, Gregory de- 
 voted his efforts to little Joe. Often he asked 
 himself if it was alone because the child was 
 hers, that his interest in him grew so intense. 
 At first, obedient to his mother's stern com-
 
 218 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 mand, Joe held away from too close contact 
 with him. "No, muddy tole me not to tay wiv 
 you," he lisped. 
 
 "Why did she say that, Joe, I wonder," the 
 man asked, half angry, half amused at the can- 
 dor of the child. 
 
 "You make my muddy, ky," he explained. 
 
 "How do you know? Tell me, little man," 
 and his voice was very eager. 
 
 "You talked to her de udder day, an' hurted 
 her, cause she came in an' kied; I kissed de ky 
 away, I did." 
 
 "And did she say I hurt her, Joe?" he asked 
 again, in sober tones. 
 
 "An' she hugged me up so tight, and telled 
 me to lub her hard, cause I was all she got to 
 lub her." 
 
 "I'm very sure you needn't be the only one," 
 Gregory remarked beneath his breath, but Joe 
 only understood that the man was very kind 
 to him, and that from this day he found a new 
 and most indulgent friend. 
 
 A week later Eleanor was seated in Mrs. 
 LeNoir's honeysuckle arbor with Joe beside 
 her. The vines were putting forth fresh sprigs 
 of tender green, for spring was near at hand, 
 and ere many weeks had passed would have 
 emptied her storehouse of fragrance and beau- 
 tified the world with color and sweetness.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 219 
 
 Their visit was drawing to a close, and with its 
 termination, a tender dreamy look had come to 
 Eleanor's eyes. She was not aware of its 
 presence, and did not know that it revealed to 
 Gregory the secret which she strove to hide. 
 Afraid of loving him, she was gradually grow- 
 ing to realize the fact of her love. "I must 
 not think of him," she repeated again and 
 again. But love refuses warning, and pursues 
 its heedless way regarding neither friend nor 
 foe. 
 
 "Here he comes! here he comes!" Joe cried, 
 and dashed toward an advancing figure. He 
 little knew that in his mother's heart the same 
 words sang ; the same sight sent a thrill of inde- 
 scribable joy in a mad race in her brain. The 
 bright sun touched his dark hair inclined to 
 curl, as he lifted his hat in greeting. Eleanor 
 attempted an unconstrained smile, but one look 
 in his face taught her that she could no longer 
 escape him. Half frightened, she arose as if to 
 attempt escape; her color came and went rap- 
 idly ; her heart was palpitating fiercely ; and she 
 stood, one hand pressed against it as if to still 
 its tumultuous beating. Still his eyes searched 
 her face and would not release her own; held 
 her spell-bound beneath his gaze, where ador- 
 ing love stood plainly forth. He caught her 
 hands. ''There is no other way for me," he
 
 220 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 told her, "but to go." She bent her head, but 
 did not answer. "I must not stay my love 
 would bring disaster." 
 
 "That could not be," she whispered, her eyes 
 alight, forgetting all but love. 
 
 His eyes were reading hers, and the secrets 
 there laid bare, set his heart to faster beating. 
 Each read in other eyes, the story that has no 
 need of words, and despite the coming parting, 
 neither would forbear to read. But the silence 
 ended. "Just once let me say it." His 
 hands held hers against his breast ; his eyes still 
 pleaded, although his lips dared not express his 
 longing. 
 
 "You are I know not mine, but I love 
 you love you love you. Let me love you 
 enough to go." 
 
 The tears that filled her eyes were half of 
 pain, but the other half of joy, at his acknowl- 
 edged love, and its answer in her heart. 
 
 "A telegram for Mrs. Manning, ma'am," an- 
 nounced Mrs. LeNoir's servant. When she 
 saw Eleanor's face, Mrs. LeNoir asked quickly: 
 "Oh! what is it!" 
 
 "I must go to-day," Eleanor answered, 
 handing her the message : 
 
 1 ' Meet me at Asheville, Thursday. Must see 
 the boy at once. 
 
 "WILLIAM MANNING."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ELEANOR found Manning awaiting her coming, 
 apparently possessed by the demons of unrest 
 and discontent. 
 
 At one time, he discovered cause for com- 
 plaint in her every action, then suddenly a 
 change would come, and in his embrace she 
 found greater punishment than his displeasure 
 held. 
 
 "I have given up all other women," he as- 
 sured her, again and again; "I care nothing 
 for them now, not one." 
 
 If, before she reached North Carolina, her 
 marriage had grown irksome, it now became so 
 deep, so vile an ignominious distress, that each 
 look, each touch and each word of passing ten- 
 derness from him renewed her torture. 
 
 "If he beat me instead," she moaned to her- 
 self in the solitude; "if I could only choose 
 again the insults and the bare-faced neglect 
 which he gave me before my baby came. But 
 this, this horrible loving on his part, while all 
 the time my soul cries for another oh! my 
 God, let it end some way!"
 
 222 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 But if Manning saw, he did not suffer from 
 it. He was quite well content since she had 
 given him a child. "She was never very lov- 
 ing," he told himself, when her haste to quit 
 his arms could not be hid. "When will you 
 learn to love me, too?" he asked her, catching 
 her unaware, rapt in the child, murmuring her 
 devotion in his ear. "He makes me love you 
 more," he explained in painful detail; and she 
 must listen with her mother love crushed down 
 and beaten back into her heart by the flood of 
 hate for him fast rising. "If I could only un- 
 derstand you," he argued. "Your face is al- 
 most guilty when I come upon you with the boy. 
 You are always loving him, and why not me? 
 I cannot understand you." 
 
 "Would to God you did," she raged, when 
 he left her, unappeased. "Oh! that I might 
 make you understand with hands to rend and 
 tear, with feet to crush and lips to tell of loath- 
 ing. If I might only dare express my hate of 
 you you beast. You, who made of me what 
 he would call me, if he knew it all. You sunk 
 me in this hell of anguish where I can look 
 above and see and long for my lost mate, and 
 the love I might have had. Oh, my God! or 
 if I dare not say my God, who feel so lost, so 
 sunk in infamy and the sins of my hated bond- 
 age, then to the God of pity, God of mercy, let
 
 THE JUDGMENT 223 
 
 me pray, to end it. Grant me my liberty, O 
 God! or let me die." 
 
 Four weeks she spent with Manning spent 
 them, since she must, in the way the law pro- 
 vides, till every heartbeat of soul grew muti- 
 nous and mad. 
 
 "I must leave you to-morrow," he told her 
 one morning, after his mail had come, ' l but not 
 for long. I will return as soon as possible." 
 
 But even in his absence, her self-torture re- 
 mained, for as long as there is life, there is 
 conscience to remember ; there is a heart to long 
 for happiness, and to sicken when it is denied, 
 and even with her child, a change had come. 
 He was no longer now an undiluted joy, for in 
 their intercourse, a strange new note had crept, 
 and she had grown to see in all his baby ways 
 a likeness, faint, intangible, and perhaps, imag- 
 inary, to him who filled her thoughts. The idea 
 tantalized and pursued her to a state that bor- 
 dered upon sickness. Her face grew white and 
 drawn, and round her large, dark eyes misery 
 cast its shadows. 
 
 "Muddy, don't ky. I lub you." The baby 
 voice was sweet with the wish to comfort her, 
 and the child reached up to her loving arms, in 
 whose shelter her trembling lips and brimming 
 eyes found refuge. Then Gregory came. The 
 spring air was cool towards evening and the
 
 224 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 fire in the grate cast a fitful light on the two 
 before it locked in each other's arms. Thus he 
 found them. The little head grown heavy, the 
 white lids drooped over the dream-filled eyes, 
 Joe lay sleeping in his mother 's arms. Against 
 the crimson velvet of the high-backed chair, 
 her head rested. Another pair of white lids 
 had drooped and hid her tired eyes. She slept 
 and did not hear the opening door, nor the voice 
 of the maid announcing his name. The door 
 closed softly and the man advanced toward the 
 quiet figures half hidden in the big-armed chair 
 where the baby lay, clasped in his mother's 
 arms, a sweet smile on his face. Upon the 
 mother's face no lingering trace of smiling 
 could be seen. Instead, her face showed signs 
 of suffering that pinched it into unaccustomed 
 sharpness. The dark circles beneath the eyes 
 were brought out cruelly, in the flickering glow 
 of the fire. Gazing at them, the watcher caught 
 his breath sharply. At the slight sound, Elea- 
 nor opened her eyes towards him. She did not 
 move, but gazed at him as if still asleep and 
 dreaming. "You?" Her lips framed the 
 word, but her voice was hardly audible. 
 
 "Yes, dear, I," he answered softly, holding 
 out his hands. 
 
 The sound of his voice broke the sleepy spell, 
 and the quick blood flooded her face with its
 
 THE JUDGMENT 225 
 
 rosy glow. She tried to rise, still holding the 
 sleeping child. "I thought I dreamed," she 
 murmured in confusion. 
 
 "No, I have come," he told her. "I could 
 not, would not stay away, since I have heard it 
 all. I did not try to take you from him before 
 I knew your martyrdom; but now that I do 
 know him as he is, you shall no longer stay. 
 Mine, in our hearts, you are and mine before 
 the world you soon shall be." He took from 
 her the sleeping child and laid him down, still 
 sleeping; unconscious witness of their love. 
 
 Eleanor hardly stirred. Surprise and weak- 
 ening joy at the sight of him half stunned her. 
 Her eyes upon his held him. 
 
 "Speak, dear one, speak," he urged, "tell 
 me that you are glad." 
 
 She did not answer, and in her eyes, he read 
 an awful fear. 
 
 "Sweetheart!" he cried. Slowly she shook 
 her head. "No! no!" she whispered brokenly, 
 and at the words, a tear found freedom, and 
 marked a path down her white face. With sud- 
 den force he caught her hands. "Eleanor, look 
 at me! Look up, and say you love me. That 
 is all I want to know. Say it. If you love me, 
 tell me. Do you love me?" Still no answer 
 but a soft low moan. "Then say you do not 
 love me!" His voice grew harder, and he
 
 226 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 tightened his hold with cruel force. "Say it; 
 if that is true, say it." 
 
 "I cannot," she whispered with a sob, re- 
 spondent to his masterful command. 
 
 It was she who spoke at last. "Are you 
 sure?" 
 
 "Sure?" he replied, "Yes, at last, thank God, 
 I am sure." His voice was reverent, and al- 
 most grave. 
 
 "No matter what shall come?" she asked 
 softly. In a louder tone, as if to challenge all 
 the world, he answered her: "Yes, no matter 
 what comes, no matter who says 'Nay' be- 
 yond all obstacles, above and over all, since 
 your heart answers you are mine." 
 
 A long, long minute passed ere either spoke 
 again. Folded in close embrace, he held her; 
 heart on heart, and lip on lip, revealing all 
 love's secrets. 
 
 The next day driving along the shady road 
 where the tall trees met above them, and all was 
 silent in the deep forest shade, a sudden im- 
 pulse seized him. ' ' Eleanor, ' ' he began, ' ' there 
 is a thing I want to tell you, and yet I hardly 
 can. I know you love me ; you prove it by your 
 eyes, your lips ; all your sweet self repeats the 
 glorious truth. I believe you have given me 
 the first and only love of your life. Is it true, 
 Eleanor?" and he awaited the answer which he
 
 THE JUDGMENT 227 
 
 knew would come. On her face a tender smile 
 appeared. 
 
 "Yes, dear, but for you and little Joe, I would 
 not have known what love means." 
 
 " 'Tis this that makes my story hard for 
 me." 
 
 In sudden fright she turned to him. "You 
 do not mean, oh, Hal, you do not mean that you 
 have not given me all your heart ; you love me 
 Hal you love me say you do!" 
 
 "Yes, I do dear one; I love you better than 
 the world, and yet, I can't explain it well, 
 I know, there was a time when you had a 
 rival." 
 
 "Oh, Hal, you cannot mean it! It can't be 
 true!" and apprehension shook her voice. 
 
 "Not now, sweetheart, not now. You may be 
 sure that in my heart there lies no thought, 
 that is not yours. No image but your own. 
 'Tis a strange story, and hard to understand, 
 but somehow I want to tell you now. Once on 
 a time I met a woman, her name and station 
 does not matter. She may be beautiful or good, 
 I do not know. I did not know her long. But 
 this is where my story lies. I met her under 
 strange circumstances; when she was sunk in 
 great despair. Her anguish broke my heart; 
 has tortured me for years. I lost her as com- 
 pletely as though she had never been, and
 
 228 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 though I searched, I searched in vain; I could 
 not find her. None other took her place, for 
 her soul had called to mine in that hour of trial, 
 and mine had answered." 
 
 His voice stopped. Eleanor said not a word, 
 but her eyes were fixed upon him as though she 
 could not take them away. He felt her gaze, 
 and looked past her between the trees. 
 
 "I was never satisfied to relinquish the hope 
 of meeting her," he at last went on, "until you 
 came. When I saw you, your coming cast be- 
 hind me every other thought, for I knew you 
 for mine, at once. Now I have ceased to think 
 of her, or if I do, it is of a longing satisfied, for 
 though it may seem strange, dear, try to under- 
 stand, I feel besides your own place in my heart, 
 you have also taken and filled hers." 
 
 While he waited for her reply, Eleanor dared 
 not trust herself to speak. 
 
 "Well, dear?" he questioned, since he must 
 hear her voice. 
 
 "It is well, dear," she whispered when she 
 could, "for all is well between us." 
 
 "I knew your noble heart, dear one," he con- 
 gratulated himself. In the relief of having 
 told his secret, he saw nothing but love in Elea- 
 nor 's eyes as he kissed her. "I am so glad I've 
 said it, dear. Of course, it was nothing at all 
 at the time not like real love anyway, but I
 
 THE JUDGMENT 229 
 
 simply could not Lave a secret of any kind be- 
 tween us." 
 
 "A secret between ns," her heart repeated. 
 "No! No I I will not think of it. I will be 
 happy now." 
 
 For those few days together, Eleanor shut 
 her ears to any argument, but those of love. 
 With every hour, her love for Gregory seemed 
 to deepen, and his for her was boundless. 
 
 When conscience tried to whisper, she crushed 
 it back. "No, no, not now," rejecting all its 
 pleas. But no human force, however strong 
 we deem it, can cope with the divine spark 
 which dwells within us all. For a time we may 
 believe that we can silence the still small voice 
 reminding us of our misdeeds, but in the end it 
 triumphs over all our arguments, and brings us 
 shamed and overtaken to the realization that we 
 have tried to pit our feeble human strength 
 against the powerful forces of Almighty God. 
 
 And it was thus with Eleanor. Through the 
 days they spent together she thrust behind her 
 with a fevered strength all her other thoughts, 
 and clung to Gregory. She did not know that 
 in her eyes he read the fears that lay but half 
 asleep, within her heart. 
 
 "Just a little while," she pleaded, when he 
 begged her to hasten the suit for divorce. 
 "Just a few days for happiness before I must
 
 230 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 go into all these awful things again." And 
 though he too feared that which cast the shad- 
 ows, mirrored in her eyes, he could not thrust 
 her out of their new paradise, but consenting to 
 delay, held her close, and told her again and 
 again the story to which she so eagerly gave ear 
 the old, old, but ever new story of man's love 
 for woman, and man's desire for woman's love. 
 While her lips told him, her eyes repeated the 
 fulfillment of his love, and the love which stirred 
 her heart responsive to his wooing, until the 
 fears perforce must hide again, biding their 
 time. 
 
 "Have I forgotten you, my baby?" she 
 asked herself one night, as she sat watching the 
 sleeping child. "Do I love you less because I 
 now can love him too ? Ah ! no it is not so ! It 
 shall not be that I may not have both. Baby, 
 baby, drive away the fears. Do not let me even 
 think them. You are mine forever, darling, 
 and I dare to hope that he shall be." 
 
 July came, and the days over-ran with sun- 
 shine. Somewhere, July may not be the month 
 of universal choice, but in Asheville each season 
 as it comes, displays such lavish treasures of 
 beauty and delight, that the onlooker cries 
 again; "This is the one for me." 
 
 The early mornings found them filled with 
 rapture at the rare delight of Nature's loveli- 
 ness when she wakes from her sweet refreshing
 
 ,THE JUDGMENT 231 
 
 sleep, and gathers together her colors, her odors 
 and her songs, like a siren planning to enchant 
 thereby the hearts of men. 
 
 Through the fresh morning, each moment was 
 a pearl, which strung themselves into the hours 
 to circle round the day; each hour enfolded 
 some new joy for love helped them thereat, and 
 whispered his suggestions. 
 
 The full moontime expressed the fullness, 
 and the passion of their love. Even the even- 
 ings did not chill, but with a tender sweet caress 
 lulled them to sleep with love and joy enthroned 
 triumphant in their hearts. 
 
 For more than a week, they spent the time 
 like this, but then a summons came for Gregory. 
 1 'I ought to go," he said. He looked at Elea- 
 nor with eyes that seemed to say he could not. 
 
 "But you must, Harold dear," she answered 
 him in quick decision for his interests, even if 
 against love's sake. 
 
 "It can't be long, and I'll wait for you here, 
 thinking of you all the time." 
 
 "And loving me?" he asked, not from doubt, 
 but for the sake of hearing once again the sweet 
 assurance. 
 
 "Yes, loving, loving; every minute, every 
 hour, with all my soul, with every fibre, every 
 beat of my heart which is yours, ' ' she answered, 
 pressed close against him. Thus again they 
 each forgot the world.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 IN the days that followed Gregory's departure, 
 Eleanor roamed with little Joe over the beauti- 
 ful grounds, played hide and seek in the maze, 
 rowed on the lake, swung under the trees, or 
 lay beneath them, listening to the stories told 
 by the winds and repeated by the rustling 
 leaves. Many fairy stories were invented dur- 
 ing that time, trying to forget her loneliness in 
 the pleasure of the child. 
 
 "Do you love me sweetheart?" she asked, 
 her heart hungering for the assent which she 
 knew would come. 
 
 "Ma'am," with quick assurance, then with 
 a flood of tenderness, he flung his little body 
 on her as she lay upon the soft green grass. 
 "I love my muddy lee bes', lee bes in lee worl," 
 he declared, holding her tight. 
 
 They clung close for a sweet moment ; mother 
 and child in that embrace, the sweetest known 
 to life. 
 
 There may be moments when man's love and 
 woman's seem so full and so complete that 
 nothing could exceed its rapture, but this is not 
 to be compared to the ecstasy that floods a 
 mother's heart when her child clings to her with 
 
 232
 
 .THE JUDGMENT 233 
 
 love and loving words. Each, tone of the bahy 's 
 voice is to her a jewel of the purest ray, each 
 smile a priceless treasure, each touch a rapture 
 unparalleled. 
 
 Sometimes these mothers do not seem to 
 know it till the baby's form is still and cold, 
 the sweet voice forever silenced, the little hands 
 stretch out no more, and the smile is no longer 
 seen. But there are others whose eyes open to 
 these joys when first their arms enfold the 
 longed-for child. To such as these, fate is in- 
 deed a friend when she has given them not only 
 love in this sweet guise, but added to their lot 
 a passion and enduring love for the father of 
 their children. 
 
 One afternoon when driving, Joe's quick ears 
 heard a burst of music, and he turned his head 
 demanding: "Muddy, hear lee mugit? I want 
 to go," till they drove toward the sound. 
 
 As they neared the open square around which 
 Asheville is built, the source of the music was 
 discovered in a Salvation Army band upon one 
 corner. 
 
 Several women and three men composed the 
 band. The faces of the women bore proof of 
 long hours of work, and much exposure; but 
 amongst them all, there was not one whose 
 countenance did not reveal a quiet joy. 
 
 Upon one homely face there shone such a
 
 234 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 light of joy, that it attracted Eleanor's special 
 attention. Never in her life before, had she 
 come so nearly into touch with the Salvation 
 Army, and before this time she had, as have 
 many others who do not seriously consider 
 them, given them a tardy tolerance very nearly 
 like contempt. 
 
 Joe, too, was interested. He stood upon the 
 seat, his big eyes fixed upon them as they sang, 
 to the unmusical accompaniment of their bat- 
 tered instruments. Their songs were in no de- 
 gree artistic, and there was among them all, not 
 a single voice to strike a sensitive ear pleas- 
 antly ; however, there was something that could 
 not be overlooked, which rose from the small 
 band of hard-worked, common place street mu- 
 sicians, and said to those with ears to hear, "I 
 come from God." 
 
 Joe's observant eyes recognized the presence 
 there of something he had not often seen, and 
 he turned to the older intelligence beside him, 
 demanding: " Muddy, shut makes lee man be 
 so glad?" He pointed to the one whose face 
 shone brightest, the one about whom Eleanor 
 too was wondering. 
 
 "What makes the man glad, darling," she 
 repeated after him, while all at once she asked 
 herself "Do I know? Can I understand his 
 joy?"
 
 THE JUDGMENT 235 
 
 Her soul responded to the query, and for the 
 first time in her life the answer that it made 
 struck at the doors of her heart a blow that re- 
 sounded through her being. 
 
 "I do not know," she said, and her voice 
 sounded dully to her ear, "I do not know." 
 
 Near their carriage, stood a laughing group 
 of girls and boys, and one, more forward than 
 the rest, laughed loudly as she said: "I've al- 
 ways said that the Salvation Army women must 
 be consecrated to be willing to wear those awful 
 hats." 
 
 At the laughter following her remark, one of 
 the women in the band turned toward them, and 
 Eleanor looked well into her face. Although 
 she liad heard the careless words, her face 
 showed no resentment. Instead, her soft gray 
 eyes seemed filled with pity for the one who 
 spoke, and for the others who had laughed. 
 
 She had risen above vanity, and with a saint's 
 forbearance spoke to the girl. 
 
 "Thank you, and God bless you, my Sister," 
 she said; and the girl made her way through 
 the crowd, shamed by the look upon the wo- 
 man's face. 
 
 Again Eleanor's soul whispered: "I do not 
 know of such as this." 
 
 Those who possess riches, generally answer 
 the voices in the way that Eleanor tried. She
 
 236 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 gave her money; and the sweet half sad voice 
 said to her as she extended it: "God bless you, 
 my Sister." 
 
 At the repeated words and the familiarity of 
 the phrasing, her aristocratic inner self shrunk 
 back. " Sister!" it whispered, "Sister! how 
 insolent!' 
 
 At her order, the carriage moved on, but the 
 hours could not dispel the impression the 
 singers on the street had made. Over and over 
 she saw the strange light that irradiated the 
 homely face of the man, and again and again 
 she heard the words "God bless you. my 
 Sister." 
 
 Surely there was no insult intended, for the 
 soft voice was like a benediction. "Sister! 
 What did it mean? Nothing but the stock 
 phrase of an ignorant sect; religious fanatics 
 roaming the streets making a public exhibition 
 of themselves," she repeated, all this and more, 
 wooing the sleep that would not come to her. 
 "Sister! and the light on the man's face!" 
 She was still thinking of it when at last sleep 
 came. 
 
 How often has it been that we have waked 
 from sleep at once deciding to arise f The day 
 held something of too much import for us to 
 waste the early hours remaining in our beds. 
 Sleep was gone, chased far away by a strange
 
 THE JUDGMENT 237 
 
 presentiment that cannot be explained, and ever 
 defies description. We may not tell of it, but 
 we all know it, when it comes. It sets our 
 hearts to beating to a faster time, and sends 
 our blood racing in our veins, lends to our eyes 
 a new brightness ; making ready for what is on 
 its way. 
 
 That day, this was all true with Eleanor. 
 She woke early, though it was late when she 
 had gone to sleep. As soon as her eyes opened, 
 she knew she could not sleep again. The very 
 air seemed laden with a secret meant for her 
 intelligence, but finding a barrier could not 
 make its way within. "What is it?" she asked 
 herself, but her only answer was the memory 
 of a street musician's homely face, filled with 
 a strange light that she could not understand, 
 and the voice of one of his comrades declaring 
 her "my Sister." 
 
 "How foolish!" she cried impatiently, "I am 
 positively silly in my childish nervousness," but 
 despite all her efforts, the memories clung. 
 
 To break into her persistent thoughts, she de- 
 cided to make a morning call. Once outside, 
 the motion of the carriage, and the brisk breeze 
 seemed to waken her to other things. 
 
 When she reached her destination, she felt 
 that the drive had done her good. Her friend 
 met her, dressed for the street, and Eleanor ex-
 
 238 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 claimed: "Oh! what will you think of me I I 
 had actually forgotten it was Sunday." 
 
 Mrs. Clayton laughed, and would not hear a 
 word of all she said. "No, no," she cried, 
 "you came the very day you should, for now 
 you can meet the Bishop." 
 
 "The Bishop! What Bishop?" Eleanor ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Why! don't you know? Do you never read 
 the papers?" Her friend laughed at her mys- 
 tified face. 
 
 "I read the papers, but I haven't read any- 
 thing about a Bishop," Eleanor answered. 
 
 "Well, now you are going with me to hear 
 him. He is to dine with me to-night, and I will 
 only be the happier if you will consent to join 
 us." 
 
 "Oh, no, I couldn't do that, thank you," Elea- 
 nor replied. "But tell me, is this the Texas 
 Bishop about whom the Raleigh papers have 
 printed such eulogies lately? You surprised 
 me so, that, at first, I did not think of him." 
 
 "Yes, it is he, and if you do not wish to lose 
 a rare treat you will come with me." 
 
 Eleanor knew not why, for she very seldom 
 went to church, but she was persuaded to go. 
 The church was filled with a softly chastened 
 light, falling through the window in shafts of 
 vari-colored hues. The choir had not come in,
 
 THE JUDGMENT 239 
 
 but already there was present that spirit of 
 reverence which never fails to affect us. 
 
 When Mrs. Clayton sank to her knees before 
 she took her seat, Eleanor wondered if she 
 really prayed, or if she only seemed to pray be- 
 cause it is the habit of the Episcopalians to 
 kneel when a church is entered. 
 
 Soon the organ notes were heard ; at first soft 
 and sweet and tender. The music seemed to 
 describe a mighty love. Its early accents were 
 but whispers, telling of the depths beyond. 
 
 Then came the louder notes, richer, stronger 
 and fuller, as if the love behind the music could 
 no longer express itself in whispers, but must 
 pour forth its strength in greater volume. 
 
 With the music came the choir. The trium- 
 phant processional came from their throats as 
 if laden with the full forces of human souls. 
 
 The rector of the church followed the choir, 
 his clear-cut, almost boyish face was grave but 
 tender, as if it had been glorified and blessed 
 by the ministry to which he had been called. 
 After him, in stately dignity, walked the 
 Bishop. 
 
 Eleanor could not forbear a long look at him, 
 as he passed near her, and as she looked, an in- 
 ward recognition of his magnetic personality 
 possessed her. Tall and impressive of car- 
 riage, his splendid head, with its fringe of sil-
 
 240 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 very hair; his scholarly face where mingled 
 dignity and kindliness, seemed to tell the charm 
 of the man, and added to this was the touch of 
 saintliness given by his lifetime's work for 
 humanity. 
 
 The full lace ruffles fell over his hands 
 crossed together as he walked toward that altar 
 on which he laid his talents ; dedicated and con- 
 secrated his life's abilities to the service of his 
 Master. Behind him, fell the rich folds of his 
 black satin gown, which opened on his breast 
 displaying the sheer whiteness underneath. 
 The stole fell on either side, bordering the black 
 gown's opening, and against the white, the 
 colors of its rich embroidery were seen. From 
 his shoulders hung his scarlet Oxford cape, the 
 brightest spot in all that sober-hued procession. 
 
 When the opening hymn was finished, the 
 Bishop's voice rang out; "The Lord is in His 
 holy temple; let all the earth keep silence be- 
 fore Him." No one ever heard that great 
 voice unless it thrilled him. Even its tones are 
 eloquent, and when such tones are joined to 
 noble thoughts grandly presented, then indeed 
 you feel the spell it casts around you. 
 
 If some divines save themselves, their voices 
 and their strength, solely for their sermons, this 
 one did not. Throughout the impressive serv- 
 ice, his full, rich, sonorous tones pervaded the
 
 THE JUDGMENT 241 
 
 place ; filled it with music, sung through the air 
 with a triumphant note, or sunk to pleadings in 
 the fervent prayers. Every gesture, every pose 
 was grace, though all unconscious of it. On his 
 knees, his figure as well as his voice seemed 
 pleading at God's throne for mercy and for- 
 giveness for the souls he led; the sheep within 
 his fold. 
 
 No quick mumbling of unintelligible words 
 from him. Every word, every syllable was as 
 clear as a drop of dew, and like the dew, seemed 
 meant to embellish into greater beauty the flow- 
 ers of his speech. 
 
 Eleanor felt as if some overweening force 
 had come down from another land, and grasp- 
 ing her trembling heart bade it awake and re- 
 ceive that greatest gift, the realization of the 
 immortality of human souls. 
 
 Throughout the service she felt this power, 
 but the first impression of that wonderful voice 
 never left her. Through the humble confession 
 of human un worthiness, she heard its clear 
 tones, over the hum of the congregation's 
 mingled voices. It stirred her slumbering con- 
 science, "Almighty and most merciful Father; 
 We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like 
 lost sheep. We have followed too much the 
 devices and desires of our own hearts. We 
 have off ended against Thy holy laws. We have
 
 242 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 left undone those things which we ought to have 
 done; and there is no health in us." 
 
 In the unhappy past, sorrow, suffering and 
 bitterness had filled her heart and mind, and 
 left no room for the tender sentiments of 
 Christianity to take firm root and if perchance 
 one found its way into the darkness of her sad- 
 dened heart, a ministering angel to her soul, the 
 straying beam of light was soon extinguished 
 by the demons of the nether world, resentment, 
 hate and bitterness worse than death, because 
 it will not die. 
 
 Even her idolatrous love for her child had 
 not been unmixed with taint. There is but one 
 thing that ever can remove from human hearts 
 the stings of conscience. This is God's love, 
 and God's forgiveness. Only by His expiation, 
 can we hope to have our dire misdeeds washed 
 out. 
 
 But Eleanor had not this comfort. She had 
 grown to scoff at the reputed religion which 
 prays on Sunday, sinning doubly all the week. 
 
 Even in the tenderness of mother love, she 
 could never forget the desperation preceding 
 the coming of her child, and gazing into his 
 eyes, she often mused: "To have this joy, I had 
 to sink" but as often as it came she fought 
 back the dreadful thought, afraid of the final 
 words.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 243 
 
 All this and more came back to her, on her 
 knees listening to that voice, and as she heard, 
 her soul made its first yearning cry for higher 
 things in its response to the congregation's 
 acknowledgment of sinfulness. Through all 
 the service, all the prayers, the words seemed 
 meant for her. ''How blind, how blind, I have 
 been!" she murmured, "and oh my God, how 
 sinful!" 
 
 Then came that story which means every- 
 thing to the world. The story of Christ's love, 
 His life, His suffering and His death. She had 
 known it always as all civilization knows it. 
 She believed the story? Yes, of course, she 
 knew the truth, but not before had the realiz- 
 ation come that it meant very much to her. 
 Now, all at once, she knew. That immortal 
 part of humanity stirred and whispered con- 
 demnation of her sin. It told her, too, the 
 story of her weakness; it made her know that 
 only by God's far reaching grace could she hope 
 to be saved from the pit her sins had dug. 
 
 She could no longer silence that insistent 
 ivoice. It shook her soul with a power she 
 hitherto had never known. It told her that she 
 need not hope to silence it, or again to thrust 
 it back into oblivion, refusing to hear its cries. 
 No, no, not now ! She knew herself, and as she 
 knew, she shuddered from the knowledge that
 
 244 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 had come. "Condemned! Lost! By my own 
 acts. Lost ! ' ' conscience cried, bewailing all its 
 sins and sinfulness. 
 
 The knowledge of unworthiness possessed 
 her soul. She felt that she had put herself be- 
 yond the pale. "I have," she cried, "only my- 
 self to blame. I have turned my back on God ! 
 I have refused to hear Him, when I knew full 
 well what He would say ; and now will He hear 
 me? Can I expect Him to listen to me when I 
 refused to think of Him? Oh, my blindness! 
 And now, perhaps, I am too late. Perhaps I 
 have let slip the time when I might have claimed 
 His grace. Have I? Have I?" 
 
 Her soul had truly wakened, and its sore 
 distress brought to her face that look, which, 
 once seen, is not soon forgotten. 
 
 And indeed, there is no tragedy greater than 
 that which comes when for the first time we see 
 and understand our own unworthiness. That 
 first discerning look into the inky chasms we 
 have called our hearts, when instead of the love 
 and light we thought therein, we find the dark- 
 ness peopled with the leering visages of sin and 
 death. 
 
 The Bishop's sermon was such as few can 
 preach. As he began to speak, everyone within 
 the portals of the church left his own thoughts 
 to hearken to the beauties of those which he 
 expressed for them.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 245 
 
 He did not tell of God as dealing vengeance 
 with a mighty arm. He did not speak of an 
 unending hell, where flames unceasingly con- 
 sume the sufferers who have sinned too many 
 times. He did not threaten of the wrath of 
 God against a sinful world. He told of God 
 omnipotent, forgiving all, and in the end, ex- 
 tending mercy with a gentle hand to those who 
 beg Him for it. He told of pity for the suffer- 
 ings of our hearts. He offered surcease for 
 our sorrows ; he promised healing for our pains. 
 
 He said no mother's love was half so soft as 
 that which filled the gentle breast of Him who 
 gave His life that we might live forever; who 
 bent with loving touch, and blessed the little 
 children in His path. He told them of the 
 erring woman brought to Him for punishment, 
 and how He lifted her and dried her sorrowing 
 tears with gentle, pitying words. 
 
 He said we must not spend our lives in sad 
 repinings, even if the backward path were 
 strewn with sins as black as night. "The 
 future is your own," he said, "to make it what 
 you will" ; begged them to take it as a gift that 
 day, fresh from the hands of God. 
 
 "Do not," he cried, "think to undo the past. 
 'Tis God's will that this cannot be. Let it lie, 
 just as it is. God will attend to that. The 
 future is for you to fill with righteous deeds; 
 with deeds of love, deeds of kindness, deeds of
 
 246 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 mercy and of charity. If you do this, 'tis all 
 that you can do. Lay these gifts at your Mas- 
 ter's feet, and He will bend a smiling face, and 
 greet you when you come. ' ' 
 
 No one who heard him could have gone away 
 without the feeling in his heart, that he had 
 listened to a message sent from God, and that 
 he who bore it was inspired by Him, to tell them 
 of God's mercy and God's love. 
 
 Eleanor's heart had bled before, but with the 
 sweet assurance of his words, the anguish lifted 
 just a little way, and hope appeared a tender, 
 timid ray of hope for mercy undeserved. Yet, 
 timid as it was, it lived and grew and blossomed 
 and would not be thrust aside. 
 
 At every doubt assailing it, she heard the 
 Bishop's voice again declare a way whereby her 
 hopes might live, and when he raised his hands 
 above them in a final benediction, she knew 
 that never in the world would she be again 
 content until she had that wondrous peace of 
 which he said: "The peace of God which pass- 
 eth all understanding keep your hearts and 
 minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of 
 His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord ; and the bless- 
 ing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and 
 the Holy Ghost, be amongst you and remain 
 with you always." 
 
 She went home, but could not rest, for she had
 
 THE JUDGMENT 247 
 
 not that peace for which her heart was longing. 
 To communion with God she could not gain ad- 
 mittance. ' ' Outside the pale ! ' ' she cried again, 
 "but I want to be oh, God, I want to come 
 within ! ' ' 
 
 The hours of the day were very long. Over 
 and over temptation came, whispering : ' ' Put it 
 away. You are happy ; put away the thought." 
 But Satan's wiles cannot prevail against the 
 might of God; neither can he draw back from 
 Him a human soul that clings and prays and 
 wishes to be saved, for after all, it is God's 
 hand upholding us. Our feeble strength would 
 soon succumb, our grasp on that great Rock of 
 Ages would weaken till we fell again into the 
 darkness, whence we came, but God lends to our 
 feeble efforts His own mighty power, and with 
 it we can conquer all. 
 
 "We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord." 
 She heard again the Bishop's voice, as in mem- 
 ory his earnest tones came to her, and she 
 fancied she could hear him praying: "Son of 
 God, we beseech Thee to hear us. Oh, Lamb of 
 God, who takest away the sins of the world; 
 grant us Thy peace. Oh! Lamb of God, who 
 takest away the sins of the world; have mercy 
 upon us," and to this her burdened soul re- 
 sponded: "Have mercy, Lord, have mercy." 
 
 She knew so little of God. No Christian in-
 
 248 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 fluenee had surrounded her youth, and she had 
 thought that she could live without Him. But 
 now she knew it was not so. Her boasted 
 strength was gone. Now, all for which she 
 dared to hope was mercy and forgiveness, and 
 an opportunity to prove her late repentance. 
 Though God offers us this chance, we do not 
 always grasp it when it comes. But this was 
 not so with Eleanor. ' ' I wish I might see him, ' * 
 she mused, until the impulse was too strong to 
 resist it longer. 
 
 She wrote a note to the Bishop at her friend's 
 house, asking: "Can you spare a little while to 
 a soul in deep distress? If it is not too much 
 to ask of you, my carriage will await you." 
 And as soon as he read the words, the Bishop 
 came. 
 
 She was waiting for him, in a fever of unrest, 
 for fear he might refuse. As he entered the 
 door, she went toward him rapidly. "Oh! sir, 
 I feared you might not come," she said. Her 
 face showed her distress, and to his experienced 
 eyes, it told her story the story of an anxious 
 soul. 
 
 "Not come, my child," he answered, and 
 when she heard his gentle voice, her heart 
 leaped in her breast with renewed hope. "I 
 trust I never may refuse to come. I am, you 
 know, God's servant."
 
 THE JUDGMENT 249 
 
 "Oh, teach me, sir, I beg!" the eager words 
 came fast, "the way to go until to-day, I did 
 not know that I was lost. But now I see ; I feel 
 that I have gone so far astray that God can 
 hardly hear me when I cry. I could not bear 
 the awful fear that I have gone too far to find 
 my way again, and so I dared to send for you. 
 Perhaps He will hear your voice. Tell me, 
 does He refuse forgiveness when you ask Him 
 for itt" 
 
 The old man's face was very tender, and his 
 voice was very sweet as he replied: "You need 
 not fear. God never will refuse to hear. He 
 always grants us mercy and forgiveness." 
 
 "Always?" she questioned further. "Is 
 there no doubt? Are you sure of this?" 
 
 "So sure that all of life grows pale beside 
 the splendor of that certainty," he reassured. 
 "There is no other thing but this, that makes 
 life worth the living. Even to the brightest lives 
 there come some days of pain, and then we feel 
 the glory of God's love and the bright promise 
 of that great world to come." 
 
 "I do not know your heart, my child," he 
 spoke again, "but be sure God knows. Be- 
 tween Himself and us, there is nothing hidden ; 
 we need not try to hide, and when we love, we 
 do not. Our sorrows and our sins are our 
 Gethsemanes. Through them we all must pass
 
 250 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 ere we can share the glories of the resurrection 
 of our souls." 
 
 Every word the Bishop said poured healing 
 on her bleeding heart. His very presence 
 seemed a blessing, while his kind words and 
 face and voice filled her aching heart with hope' 
 and reassurance. 
 
 When at last he rose to leave and she was 
 trying to express her gratitude, he stopped her, 
 "No, no, my child. Thank God, not me. It is 
 His gift you have to-day." 
 
 "But you came to me a stranger," she per- 
 sisted. 
 
 "Have you forgotten that Christ came to the 
 world when it had strayed away in sin? I can 
 do so little while the Master can do all. Give all 
 your thanks to Him." And after he had gone, 
 she stood where he had left her. Her hands 
 still felt his gentle touch, her heart still beat 
 responsive to his farewell blessing. "God the 
 Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost, 
 be with you forevermore." 
 
 When he was there it seemed an easy thing 
 to say: "I will confess my sins to God," but 
 after he was gone, her greatest trial came. 
 
 No longer supported by his gracious kind- 
 ness, reminding her of the great love and pity 
 and all sufficing loving-kindness of the Heavenly 
 Father, she had now no one to succor her in 
 her hour of agony.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 251 
 
 "Must I give him up? Must I slay our love? 
 No! no!" Her heart cried out in agony. "It 
 will kill me to forsake love now. Oh, God, not 
 that ! Let me take some other way not that ; 
 at least, not now that love has come; not now." 
 
 But to temptation's whispers her awakened 
 conscience cried: 
 
 "No, no, 1 dare not even tell him why I go. 
 For my sin, I must forever bear in silent lone- 
 liness our secret. If I should tell him, he 
 would claim me all the more, and make retreat 
 impossible, by the knowledge of his parent's 
 claim, but since he does not know, and if I 
 leave him now, life may some day again smile 
 on him. Yes, for my wickedness, I must re- 
 sign the man I love, or sink to everlasting 
 death beneath God's wrath. It is His will that 
 I must expiate my sin by giving up for all this 
 world, the man I love for how I love him, God 
 alone can know as mine my own and, oh, 
 God ! forgive me, as the father of my child. 
 
 It was a long and weary battle before she 
 reached the end; before she conquered her 
 heart that begged protection. 
 
 Then she wrote the long despairing letter, 
 telling him of her decision to return to Man- 
 ning ; told him how her soul had awakened and 
 with every breath condemned the course they 
 planned. "I never can or will deny our love, 
 for that is all the world to me," she wrote, "but
 
 252 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 let us place it past our own temptation, and 
 try to live and hope while living here, for God's 
 forgiveness in the end where He may grant to 
 us eternal life together." 
 
 Through the long hours she wrote, pouring 
 out to him her aching heart, and telling him 
 all the temptations which her love for him had 
 whispered, and telling him at the end, her 
 soul's replies to all love's pleading. 
 
 "To leave him and go back to that my 
 God!" she cried, upon her knees, late in the 
 night, beside the sleeping child. "It is Geth- 
 semane, and to-morrow, when I take up my 
 cross again, begins my crucifixion. Oh! help 
 me, Christ, I beg. I see the way that I must go, 
 but help me, help me, or I cannot press ahead. 
 Gentle Savior, help me. Teach me to wear my 
 crown of thorns and in the end let me take my 
 little child and follow Thee the best I can." 
 
 Joe, wakened at the sobs, and frightened at 
 her tortured face, clung to her, weeping. 
 
 "Hush! hush! my child." Her arms around 
 him, they clung together in the silent night. 
 ' ' We have each other. Love me, Joe, for upon 
 earth I have no one but you. Oh! help me, 
 baby, by your love, and, dear Christ, help me to 
 say 'Thy will be done.' "
 
 WHEN Gregory came the next morning, his 
 step was alert and his face was eager. He 
 hastened to his room and there he found Elea- 
 nor's letter. The opening words lined his face, 
 before so full of happiness. 
 
 "Leave me now! Oh, God! It shall not 
 be." He would not read it all, in his haste to 
 find her. 
 
 At his sudden coming, she rose with a stifled 
 cry of longing, and at love denied full utter- 
 ance. He caught her close and held her. 
 "You are mine," he told her, "mine by God's 
 almighty law of love. Let no man dare to come 
 between us." 
 
 "Wait listen," she insisted. 
 
 "No even to your own arguments I am 
 deaf. I will not hear them. Not even you 
 shall take my love away from me not now." 
 
 "You must! It is decided by a higher 
 power. Oh, love, my dear, dear love, can you 
 not see, do you not know that we must part?" 
 
 "Part! No! I refuse to listen." He held 
 her tight despite her feeble efforts to release 
 herself. "There is not in all the world, one 
 
 258
 
 254 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 who comes between us now." His eyes and 
 lips on hers, his arm defying parting as he held 
 her close against him. " After this?" he ques- 
 tioned, when his lips left hers. 
 
 11 After all," she told him. 
 
 "You are mad, Eleanor. You do not know 
 what you propose." His voice was growing 
 harder. "You cannot love me and suggest our 
 parting now." 
 
 "Cannot love you! God only knows how 
 much I do," she answered through her tears. 
 
 "Then let us say no more of this. Love is 
 not lightly put aside, and our love makes us 
 one. I am yours and you are mine, and no 
 man dare gainsay it." 
 
 "It is not man, but God." She drew her- 
 self away from him a little way, looked in his 
 face, and told him through the tears that 
 choked her told him so he knew at last her 
 meaning. "It cannot be; I must return. This 
 is my expiation for the sin of loving you." 
 
 "It is no sin such love as ours, for God 
 himself has made it." His voice had sunk to 
 pleading. 
 
 "Perhaps some day in God's eternal daytime 
 we may be together, what our hearts now make 
 us, one. But not now, my love, not now, for 
 through this world I must continue bound. 
 Through all my life my only hope outside
 
 .THE JUDGMENT 255 
 
 child, is for mercy from a gentle God. That in 
 my unceasing penance He may see some reason 
 for forgiveness, and, oh! my love my love, 
 my love for you, all I can do is pray to that 
 God of mercy that you may forget " Her 
 fortitude forsook her. 
 
 "You shall not go." He caught her as she 
 tried to pass. 
 
 "Oh, God! how hard," she moaned. "If 
 you would only leave me, Hal, instead. But 
 for me to have to go to say good-by to you 
 to you who mean all life to me." Her tortured 
 eyes told of the struggle plainer than her 
 broken words. 
 
 "A few hours, darling," he begged. "I 
 must see you again," with all the hopefulness 
 of love. 
 
 "No, Hal, it must be now. While yet I can, 
 I will. All that I beg of you is that when your 
 suffering shall cease, you try to think of me, 
 the best you can for love's dear sake, and try 
 oh, try to understand." 
 
 Gregory took both her hands, and compelled 
 her to look at him. 
 
 "Listen, darling," he said. "I am stronger 
 than you and my strength shall prevail. I will 
 compel you to leave this man and come to me. 
 I will not let you go." 
 
 A sudden terror of his strength possessed
 
 256 ,THE JUDGMENT 
 
 her. He released her hands, and took her into 
 his arms. 
 
 "Mine!" he said, low and fervently "Mine, 
 and mine alone. You are coming to me!" 
 
 She felt her will yielding to his. Then light 
 flashed into her soul the way of escape opened. 
 
 "See me once again," she said, "to-morrow 
 night. If, after what I have to tell you, you 
 still say 'Come' oh, my love, my love, I will 
 obey you!" 
 
 Gregory released her in some surprise. 
 
 " What could you say to me that would 
 make me desire you less?" he demanded in- 
 credulously. "Eleanor, this is no subterfuge? 
 You will see me again?" 
 
 "I swear it," she answered. "Leave me 
 now." 
 
 He looked at her. But his momentary doubt 
 forsook him when he read her love in the brim- 
 ming eyes she lifted to his. Pressing a kiss 
 upon her trembling lips, he left her. 
 
 For two days Eleanor lived in what seemed 
 to her the nethermost hell. She had vowed to 
 her own soul what she would do, but it seemed 
 impossible. 
 
 On the morning of the second day, Manning 
 arrived unexpectedly. 
 
 "Listen," he said. "I want to talk to you 
 about my boy. ' '
 
 THE JUDGMENT 257 
 
 Eleanor shivered. 
 
 "About his education," Manning continued. 
 "I have decided that he must spend some part 
 of every year abroad. Europe can give him 
 certain things, in his youth, not to be acquired 
 later. Therefore, we will sail in two weeks, 
 and to that end you must prepare to leave this 
 place in a day or so." 
 
 Eleanor sat very still. 
 
 "What have you to say against it?" Man- 
 ning demanded, impatiently. "He will not al- 
 ways be a child, tied to your apron strings* 
 I take thought for his future for the figure 
 my son will cut in the world." 
 
 Eleanor gathered herself together with an 
 immense effort. 
 
 "I will be ready," she said. "But I ask 
 you to grant me one favor." 
 
 Manning softened at the gentleness of her 
 tone, and took her in his arms. She shuddered 
 at his touch, but constrained herself to endure 
 it, that she might gain her point. 
 
 "Leave me here for one week longer, alone 
 with him," she pleaded. "You say truly he 
 has to be fitted for a man's part in the world. 
 But give me this last week of his babyhood 
 here." 
 
 "As you will," replied her husband, caress- 
 ing her ardently. "In fact, I have good rea-
 
 258 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 sons for taking the next train. I foolishly left 
 my mail unread till after I had started, and I 
 should be in New York now." 
 
 When she was assured of his departure, El- 
 eanor sent for Gregory. 
 
 "I postpone what I had to say to you for a 
 few days," she said, when he reached her. 
 11 Harold, I want to have a week that you will 
 remember when if we part. I want you 
 to see me daily, to see Joe daily, and never once 
 to speak to me of love. Will you do this?" 
 
 "I can refuse you nothing," he answered. 
 "But assure me, Eleanor, that you will not slip 
 away?" 
 
 "I will not slip away," she replied. "Come 
 with us to the woods." 
 
 She caused a basket of food to be prepared, 
 and taking the child, they set forth. Little Joe 
 was happier than he had ever been before. 
 Gregory played with him to his heart's con- 
 tent. Eleanor, enthroned upon a moss-covered 
 root, watched them, and forced the thought of 
 the future from her mind. From its dark 
 shadow, she snatched this "fearful joy" and 
 lived in the sunshine of the present. 
 
 Day after day was spent thus the uncon- 
 scious father, the trembling mother, the happy 
 child and Nature. Sometimes both played 
 with Joe sometimes, while he slept upon her
 
 THE JUDGMENT 259 
 
 knee, Eleanor talked to Gregory upon life's 
 problems, and plunged with him upon the deeps 
 of thought. He, for his part, kept his word, 
 and spoke not of love, content with learning the 
 treasures of her mind, the riches of her intel- 
 lect. She would not see him after sunset nor 
 in her house. When he had left her, and her 
 child slept, she knelt knelt for long hours, 
 gathering strength for love's last ordeal. 
 
 The day came when all preparations were 
 completed. Trunks were packed, and waiting 
 at the depot. She had seen Gregory embrace 
 the boy for the last time. But instead of dis- 
 missing him, she said: 
 
 "Keturn at midnight." 
 
 He looked at her with surprise, but without 
 hope for the aspect of her beauty was un- 
 earthly spiritual. 
 
 Eleanor sat beside her sleeping child for a 
 time. Then she dressed her hair with ex- 
 treme plainness, donned a black gown, and 
 waited for the long hours to pass. 
 
 The household was abed, and asleep. No 
 window overlooked the little gate at which she 
 admitted Gregory. 
 
 "Not here," she said, as his eyes fell upon 
 the open door. "Just outside under this 
 tree. I must be where I can hear his cry if 
 he should awake."
 
 260 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 The moonlight poured down upon them. She 
 seemed frail and shadowy. 
 
 "You can tell me nothing," he said, after a 
 silence, in which they had given themselves up 
 to the rapture of proximity, "nothing that 
 will make me give you up." 
 
 "You propose," she said, her low sweet 
 tones so solemn that he started, "you propose 
 that I leave the man to whom my vows were 
 given and go to you living all my life in 
 shame ? ' ' 
 
 "You are living in shame now," he told her. 
 
 "Think of my child," she went on. "If I 
 take him, he loses his honor in the world's eyes. 
 Yet can you ask me to leave him!" 
 
 "For his sake I might," was Gregory's 
 answer. "For yours, no. For my own, no. 
 I love him as if he were my own." 
 
 Eleanor 's heart stood still : his words seemed 
 to be an open gate for her avowal and yet 
 they pierced her heart like a sword. 
 
 There was a moment's silence and then she 
 spoke with calm strength. 
 
 "He is your own/" 
 
 Gregory seized both her hands. 
 
 "What?" he cried. 
 
 She went on now, with superhuman power. 
 
 "1 was that woman in the darkened room!" 
 
 He dropped her hands. The silence that fell
 
 THE JUDGMENT 261 
 
 between them was as some vast and soundless 
 gulf. Across it lie looked at her. She could 
 not bear his glance. Her head drooped, and 
 she sobbed. The sound smote him! He 
 recalled how vividly hearing that sob be- 
 fore! 
 
 "You!'* he gasped, at length. For he had 
 no doubt. Instead, he wondered he had never 
 guessed the truth before. Now he understood 
 his love for little Joe. 
 
 Eleanor slipped to the ground at his feet. 
 
 "You despise me?" she sobbed. "Oh, you 
 can never understand why I did it ! I was mad 
 I was driven mad by cruelty by injustice. 
 I claimed a child from life! The eternal 
 mother in me would not be denied! My child 
 would save me from all would atone. And 
 oh, my love my love you gave him to me!" 
 
 Gregory bent over her. He lifted her to her 
 feet, he drew her in his arms. 
 
 "Do you think," he said tensely, "that you, 
 who have been already mine that my child 
 shall ever leave me now?" 
 
 Eleanor lay passive in his arms for a mo- 
 ment. All her strength would be needed later 
 she dared risk none in a lesser struggle. So 
 she waited, while he poured burning words of 
 love into her ears waited, until he ceased, 
 marvelling at her stillness, and her silence.
 
 262 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 " Speak to me!" he implored, at length. 
 Eleanor drew away from him and he let her 
 go. She put out her hand, blindly groping for 
 help. It touched a tree and she leaned against 
 it, her head thrown back, the moonlight falling 
 on the ghastly pallor of her face. 
 
 "Harold," she said gently. "Of all things 
 in my life, I care now most for these few days 
 in which we have learned to know each other 
 so well. Harold, when I tell you that my con- 
 science is sore and smarting, you will under- 
 stand. When I say to you that I must obey it 
 and cleanse my soul from sin you will be- 
 lieve." 
 
 "Eleanor," he cried, in wild alarm. But she 
 put up her hand, and he stepped back again, 
 awed into silence. 
 
 "I had no right to snatch my son! I had 
 no right to break my marriage vows ! I have 
 sinned, and I must suffer. Yea, I must even 
 pay the uttermost penalty!" 
 
 "Have you not paid it?" asked Gregory, de- 
 spairingly, for now he knew her meaning. 
 "Has not your life been not purgatorial pains 
 alone, but even fires of hell?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Not cleansing fires, my beloved. Not ac- 
 cepted penance. My agony has been involun- 
 tary there has been no merit in it whatso-
 
 THE JUDGMENT 263 
 
 ever. But now, I bend beneath the scourge, 
 I set the crown of thorns upon my head, I 
 clasp my cross to my breast." 
 
 Gregory uttered a groan. He knew that 
 against this tide of pure and passionate re- 
 pentance he was powerless to contend. She 
 went on, her low sweet tones gathering a tri- 
 umphant strength. 
 
 "My penance is to keep my marriage vows. 
 So long as he shall live, my place is at his side 
 my will must bend to his." 
 
 "So long as he shall live!" 
 
 Gregory remembered that Manning was an 
 old man and a ray of light seemed to break 
 the darkness of the far horizon. 
 
 Yet, looking at the pure face before him, he 
 understood that no such thought had come to 
 Eleanor that her penance was unmitigated by 
 any gleam of hope. 
 
 He made one more desperate effort to re- 
 tain her, vain though he knew it to be. 
 
 "And my child!" he cried. "Do you think 
 I will yield him to Manning even if I have to 
 yield you?" 
 
 Eleanor's face changed. Her head drooped 
 wearily. 
 
 "Oh, this is hard to say," she murmured. 
 "Harold, you were not without sin. This is 
 your penance your share of the Judgment
 
 264 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 that is upon us both. We are one, you and I- 
 together we have sinned, together we must 
 atone. " 
 
 Harold Gregory turned away. She had 
 pierced him as with a sword but it was a 
 flaming sword of light. All his pleasant self- 
 approbation was shriveled up in its flame. He 
 knew that he had sinned and he bowed before 
 her truth. 
 
 "You are right, " he groaned, and dropped 
 into the low chair from which she had arisen. 
 "How shall I bear it?" 
 
 Eleanor moved swiftly forward, and laid her 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 "You will know he is with me that I will 
 not let him forget you. And when he reaches 
 manhood, and he" 
 
 By her shudder Gregory knew she spoke of 
 Manning 
 
 "can never know then, all the wealth that 
 he bequeathed to Joe shall be given for some 
 great and noble purpose and if if you want 
 us-?" 
 
 She stopped, in sad humility. 
 
 " if," he cried, rising, and taking her 
 hands. "I shall but live " 
 
 He checked himself. He would not mar the 
 perfectness of her pure atonement with even a 
 hint of a half guilty hope.
 
 THE JUDGMENT 265 
 
 They held each other's hands, and gazed into 
 each other's eyes in the silver moonlight. And, 
 in that solemn hour, there was born, in the 
 man's heart, a loftier love. It was as if the 
 gates of Time, Space and Mortality opened 
 wide, to reveal the deathless sweep of the Vast 
 Eternal. And across those parted portals they 
 saw themselves hand in hand with none be- 
 tween ! 
 
 He did not again take her in his arms, or 
 press his lips to hers. Spirit gazed upon spirit 
 through their purified eyes and the anguish 
 that must come later was held in abeyance, as 
 they stood, side by side, upon the mountain- 
 tops of being, earthly desire, and passion, con- 
 quered, at their feet. 
 
 So they stood, and the moments passed un- 
 heeded. Then, they were recalled to earth by a 
 cry! 
 
 "Mudder!" 
 
 Gregory gave one glance of love and longing 
 towards the opened window whence the sound 
 came one glance of uttermost adoration at 
 the woman before him. Then he turned, and 
 left her. At the gate, he paused long enough 
 to hear her words: "Mother's coming, dar- 
 ling," before he closed it behind him and went 
 out into the desert of the world alone! 
 
 Eleanor, waiting till the gate closed, heard
 
 266 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 the sound and felt it as a lash upon her naked 
 heart. Then, ascending the stairs to find the 
 child, she murmured: 
 
 "Thy Judgment, God, hath overwhelmed 
 me!" 
 
 THE END
 
 .