C~" ~ A r 
 ~u;^. . 

 
 JINKS IN A CHAIN 
 
 -* BY MARGARET SUT- 
 
 TON BRISCOE e 
 
 AUTHOR OF " PERCHANCE TO 
 DREAM " AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 MDCCCXCIII
 
 Copyright, f8<)3, 
 
 BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 C. J. PETERS & SON, 
 
 TYPOGRAPHERS AND ELECTROTYPERS, 
 BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A.
 
 Co 
 HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE, 
 
 IN 
 GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT.
 
 LINKS IN A CHAIN. 
 
 LINK I. 
 
 A SIDE LIGHT . . 9 
 
 LINK II. 
 
 His I. O. U. . . 35 
 
 LINK III. 
 
 THE NOTE REDEEMED . . 67 
 
 LINK IV. 
 
 AN APPLE OF DISCORD . . 87 
 
 LINK V. 
 MR. ATWOOD'S WIFE . . 173
 
 LINK I. 
 A SIDE LIGHT. 
 
 The man 
 
 revealed.
 
 LINKS IN A CHAIN. 
 
 LINK I.* 
 
 A SIDE LIGHT. 
 
 " A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures 
 of silver." PROV. xxv. n. 
 
 " DISREPUTABLE weather ! simply dis- 
 reputable ! " murmured Mr. Atwood. 
 
 He looked out from under the shelter of 
 his umbrella comfortably as he spoke. 
 
 The rain was falling from the heavens in 
 whirling sheets of silver. From a roof just 
 ahead of him the spouting had given up 
 carrying off the flow as hopeless. The 
 water ran over it in streams, which the wind 
 caught again and flung aside in the air, 
 breaking them into raindrops once more. 
 
 Mr. Atwood paused and watched the 
 
 * Reprinted by permission from Scrifour's Magazine. 
 9
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 tangle for a moment ; then shrugging the 
 collar of his heavy overcoat still higher, and 
 dexterously grasping his umbrella handle 
 close by the ribs, he struggled on. 
 
 Around the street corner, and approach- 
 ing the point of the angle which Mr. Atwood 
 was nearing, another figure was battling 
 against the weather; but where the man 
 showed a certain vigour and enjoyment in 
 resistance, the woman for it was a woman, 
 and a young one walked with a nervous 
 rapidity, and an apparent heedlessness of 
 the wind's efforts to turn her light umbrella 
 inside out. 
 
 At the street corner the big steadily ad- 
 vancing umbrella and the little wavering one 
 met with a crash which brought the respect- 
 ive owners to an abrupt stand. They dis- 
 engaged their weapons, and peered out at 
 each other through the mist. 
 
 " Celeste ! Why, my dear child ! " ex- 
 claimed Mr. Atwood. 
 
 He raised his hand quickly to his hat, 
 but only to hold it in place, not in salute. 
 
 Civilities die a natural death in a whirl- 
 wind.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 The gust of air seized the girl's bobbing 
 umbrella, and settled the question of turn- 
 ing it wrong side out once and forever. In 
 the same moment Mr. Atwood's covering 
 swept over her like a great sheltering wing. 
 
 " Come here, child," he said ; " there is 
 room for one more in the ark. Throw that 
 wreck of silk and whalebone in the gutter, 
 and come under gingham for once in your 
 life." 
 
 Celeste obeyed, taking his offered arm. 
 Conversation was impossible until the cor- 
 ner was passed where the four winds of 
 heaven seemed to have appointed a rendez- 
 vous. Then Mr. Atwood looked down at 
 his companion's costume and smiled. 
 
 " Thin shoes, new gloves, and a silk sieve 
 waterproof ! May I ask, madame, where 
 you are going ? " 
 
 "I am taking a walk," said the girl, 
 speaking for the first time. 
 
 Mr. Atwood laughed. " Were, Celeste," 
 he corrected, " were. You are being taken 
 home now, my dear ; there, I trust, to be 
 well scolded, as these many moons have 
 lapsed since the honeymoon."
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 He looked down suddenly at the hand 
 on his arm, then into the face by his side, 
 where there were drops of water which he 
 did not think were rain, and the lips were 
 as tremulous as the hand. 
 
 " Old ! Heavens, how old you make me 
 feel ! " said Mr. Atwood, anxiously examin- 
 ing the ribs of his umbrella. " Here you 
 are, a sedate matron, and I remember the 
 first day I visited your family, and caught 
 you, a little tot, with long shaving curls 
 pinned to your yellow pigtails to eke them 
 out. You don't remember it, but I do. 
 You were a pretty child, Celeste. You 
 might have been a good one, too, if we had 
 spoiled you less." 
 
 A great drop, which again was not rain, 
 fell on Mr. Atwood's sleeve. Without turn- 
 ing he talked on. "What business have 
 you to be out a day like this ? The wind is 
 enough to make you hoarse for a week, let 
 alone the dampness. Here, take my hand- 
 kerchief and tie it about your throat." 
 
 Celeste took the handkerchief he offered, 
 with a little hysterical laugh. 
 
 " That is just like you," she said, openly
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 drying her eyes. " Ignore, ignore, always ig- 
 nore appearances, always appearances ! " 
 
 " I don't think you can quite quarrel with 
 me on that score. Here I am walking up a 
 thoroughfare with a weeping young woman 
 clinging to my arm, and all the 'Quaker 
 ladies ' in the puddles staring at us. Could 
 Mrs. Grundy ask for more ? " 
 
 "Don't laugh," cried Celeste hysteri- 
 cally, " pray don't ! " 
 
 Mr. Atwood turned and stood quite still 
 for a moment, looking into her face. 
 
 Then he lifted the umbrella slightly, and 
 looked out from under it. They had been 
 walking in the teeth of the storm, but now 
 he altered their course to a cross street, 
 where the inner edge of the farther pave- 
 ment was comparatively sheltered. 
 
 " Now," he said, " we have miles of way 
 before us. My handkerchief is a large one, 
 and my reputation can stand it. You may tell 
 me what it is if you wish, and if I can help 
 you ; if not, you may cry your cry out with 
 the weather, and then I will take you home." 
 
 They walked on in silence. At last 
 Celeste spoke. 
 
 '3
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 "I think," she said thoughtfully, '" I 
 think that I shall tell you. I am so sorely 
 in need of help, and the wind has blown 
 you to me. My trouble is about my hus- 
 band." 
 
 Mr. Atwood laid his hand quickly on the 
 one in his arm. He shook his head, half 
 smiling. 
 
 "No," he said, "the wind never meant 
 that. It blew you to me because it knew I 
 could be heartless enough to send you away 
 without letting you speak. No, whatever it 
 be, whether great or small, if it concerns 
 your married life, tell no one. Fight it 
 down. Put it behind you. Do anything 
 but talk." 
 
 "Then you too fail me," said Celeste 
 bitterly. 
 
 Mr. Atwood's voice grew graver, his 
 manner more serious. 
 
 " You must not misunderstand me. You 
 know me as always devoted to your inter- 
 ests. I have no wish to learn your secret. 
 My advice to you is to keep it. At the 
 same time if you need help, if you need 
 me, I am here."
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " I must have help," she answered, in a 
 choked voice ; " I have just discovered that 
 my husband is a liar." 
 
 Mr. Atwood uttered an exclamation 
 of incredulity. " A liar ! Impossible, 
 Celeste ! " 
 
 " You thought it a lovers' quarrel, did 
 you not ? Now, will you listen ? As you 
 are a lawyer and a man of the world, you 
 may understand." 
 
 " I am your old friend, and your hus- 
 band's," he answered gravely. " Some one 
 has misled you maliciously." 
 
 "What I know I discovered myself." 
 
 " Then you are mistaken." 
 
 " No, I tell you I know it. He has been 
 deceiving me for months. Do you suppose 
 I accepted light evidence ? " 
 
 Mr. Atwood was silent for a moment ; 
 then he spoke simply. 
 
 " You mean," he said, " that he has been 
 unfaithful to you ? " 
 
 Celeste lifted her head proudly, her color 
 rising. 
 
 " No , that humiliation I am spared. My 
 husband is still my husband." 
 15
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 The expression of troubled gravity on 
 Mr. Atwood's face lightened. 
 
 "Then," he replied, with decision, "his 
 wife must be his wife." 
 
 " I have made up my mind. I shall 
 return to my mother," said Celeste quickly. 
 
 Apparently Mr. Atwood did not hear her. 
 
 "What is it that has happened?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Celeste flushed painfully. Her eyes 
 dropped. 
 
 " How can I bring myself to tell it ? " she 
 cried bitterly. " I am so ashamed ! If it 
 were not so contemptible ! its hideous- 
 ness lies in its smallness." 
 
 There was almost a smile in Mr. At- 
 wood's eyes as he looked down at her. 
 
 " Child," he said, half sadly, half whim- 
 sically, "men are not great." 
 
 She glanced up quickly. 
 
 " Ah, you have not heard yet. I have 
 not told you. You know how my fortune 
 is left to me ? " 
 
 " Yes ; by your father's will it was left 
 you outright, was it not ? " 
 
 ''''Leaving me outright you had better 
 16
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 say," corrected the girl, with a laugh 
 which was not good to hear. "I wish I 
 had never seen a penny of it." 
 
 It was not a pretty story which she had 
 to tell and he to hear. 
 
 " I have been reinvesting," said Celeste. 
 " My father's investments were too old- 
 fashioned. You have no idea how easy it 
 was ; I had only to sign papers, and my 
 husband did all the rest. I was to be trou- 
 bled with nothing." 
 
 The umbrella brushed a long icicle from 
 a gateway which they passed to the pave- 
 ment at their feet. Its icy tinkle seemed 
 to find its echo in her voice. 
 
 "Yesterday it is the old story my 
 husband gave me a box of papers to assort, 
 and among them I stumbled on a letter 
 which I read twice before I understood. 
 It was an acknowledgment of almost the 
 exact amount I had last reinvested, dated 
 the same day one of my husband's debts 
 of honour. His honour ! I understood then 
 why I was not to be troubled." 
 
 Whatever were Mr. Atwood's thoughts, 
 they were not expressed in his face. His
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 eyes were fastened on the lower points of 
 his umbrella, from which the water dropped 
 ceaselessly. His countenance was inscru- 
 table. 
 
 " Had you no further evidence ? " he 
 asked quietly. 
 
 " In plenty. It rolled up like a snow- 
 ball. I have an unfortunate memory for 
 dates and sums. Each one of my reinvest- 
 ments antedated some settlements. Do 
 you suppose I was easier to convince than 
 you ? Comparatively speaking, they all 
 agreed." 
 
 " With what ? " 
 
 "The other papers." 
 
 " The other papers ? Ah, Eve Eve. 
 It has been so since the first little red 
 apples were made. Child, I could almost 
 wish you had remained ignorant : the tree 
 of knowledge bears such bitter fruit. Yet, 
 sooner or later it must have come." 
 
 " I have been thinking that it would be 
 best for me to go first to my mother's 
 house, and from there make my plans," 
 said Celeste, with the same high-strung 
 composure. 
 
 18
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Once," answered Mr. Atwood thought- 
 fully, " I knew a woman a devoted wife 
 whose husband was the most scientific 
 brute with whom I ever came in contact. 
 After years of torture I induced her to sue 
 for divorce for her children's protection. 
 His party he inevitably has one, you 
 know maintained that the root of all 
 the trouble lay in the fact that she did 
 not care for him, and they found listeners." 
 
 " I shall go to my mother," repeated 
 Celeste firmly. 
 
 " And your children ? " 
 
 " I shall take them with me." 
 
 " And if your husband claim them ? " 
 
 " I should contest it." 
 
 "In court?" 
 
 " In court, if necessary." 
 
 "And are you sure that in after-years 
 they will thank you even if by so doing 
 you rescue their property? " 
 
 "That would not be my motive," she 
 interrupted. 
 
 Mr. Atwood went on, unheeding. " They 
 might, perhaps, prefer their mother's and 
 father's unspotted name to riches. Chil- 
 
 '9
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 dren have an odd habit of resenting these 
 things in after-life. I have heard parents 
 complained of as handicaps often enough 
 to wish that children could select them for 
 themselves." 
 
 Celeste's lip curled. 
 
 " How civilized we are ! " she said scorn- 
 fully. " You make your little bon-mots ; I 
 smile ; we walk on with my life's problem 
 under discussion, and it strikes neither of 
 us as odd." 
 
 " Yes, we are very civilized ; but would 
 you have us otherwise ? Would it be bet- 
 ter if I told you with brutal directness that 
 the world draws small distinction between 
 a woman who returns of choice to her 
 family and a woman returned? Suppose 
 I pointed out to you baldly that there are 
 always two sides told to a story ; that 
 tongues in plenty would say that you 
 should have given the money; and, fin- 
 ally, that your children might live to curse 
 the day when their mother published 
 their father's shame would that be 
 better ? " 
 
 He could feel that she winced.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Exposure would not be necessary. He 
 could trust to my silence. I am in a 
 position to dictate terms, I think. Let 
 him take the bulk of the property. All 
 I ask of him is that I may be allowed to 
 go quietly, and take my children with me." 
 
 " And what has he answered ? " 
 
 " Nothing as yet. When I met you I had 
 come out from it all to breathe and think 
 how best to speak to him." 
 
 Mr. Atwood turned so sharply that he al- 
 most faced his companion. 
 
 " Do you mean that you have not yet 
 spoken to your husband ? " 
 
 " Not yet : I shall to-night." 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " said Mr. Atwood fer- 
 vently. " Thank Heaven, my dear child! 
 Celeste, your good angel has watched over 
 you." 
 
 She laughed mirthlessly. 
 
 " Over me ! me ! If I have such an one, 
 'peradventure he sleepeth, or he is on a jour- 
 ney.' If an innocent woman was ever de- 
 livered into the hands of the unrighteous, I 
 have been that one." 
 
 " No, you are saved, you and your chil-
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 dren. Celeste, your husband must never 
 know of your discovery." 
 
 Celeste looked up in amazement. "Leave 
 him and give no reason ! It would not be 
 possible." 
 
 " No, that would not be possible ; but this 
 will. You must go back to your home and 
 your husband, resolved to pick up your life 
 in silence where you meant to lay it down. 
 It is your only chance for happiness, and 
 for your children's future." 
 
 As she grasped his meaning, Celeste with- 
 drew from him with a gesture almost of ab- 
 horrence. 
 
 "Do you realize what this is that you 
 are telling me to do ? " she asked. " I who 
 have never known what a lie was ! You 
 are telling me to live one from now until I 
 die to make my whole life a mask to 
 act a part day by day and hour by hour." 
 
 Her eyes filled with passionate tears. 
 Her voice broke. 
 
 " It is your hard part to play," said Mr. 
 Atwood slowly, " but you will play it." 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " You will play it for your children and
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 for your children's father. Where others 
 love to remember, you must learn to for- 
 get. Where others unfold their heart's 
 secrets, you must wrap yours away. It 
 will be cruelly hard at first. It will tax 
 all your strength, all your high spirit ; but 
 you will succeed." 
 
 " Let me understand," said Celeste in a 
 repressed voice, " just what this is which 
 you are mapping out for me." 
 
 "I want you to wipe yesterday and to- 
 day out of your life, letting no one sus- 
 pect hardly admitting to yourself that 
 they have made a difference. Train your- 
 self to forget, and forgiveness will follow." 
 
 Celeste shook her head. 
 
 " No, I could never forget. I can forgive, 
 but it must be from a distance. I cannot 
 live with him. I cannot be his wife and 
 the mother of his children." 
 
 " Yet you are both, irreparably. You 
 have put your hand to the plough, and 
 you may not look back. You have come 
 out from your people and formed a house- 
 hold of your own. You have no moral 
 right now to let it drop apart." 
 23
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 "And you think it could be bound to- 
 gether with a lie ? " 
 
 Mr. Atwood smiled. 
 
 " There spoke your Puritan grandparents. 
 The Truth the Te-ruth, in two syllables 
 a trifle through the nose and at any cost. 
 Why not the Truth of Saint Francis : ' Bet- 
 ter to withhold than to speak unkindly ' ? 
 Let me ask you one question. You have 
 assured me that your husband cares for no 
 other woman but does he still care for 
 you ? " 
 
 " Can you call this caring ? " 
 
 " Perhaps. I know that yours was a 
 love-match to begin with. Would you have 
 said yesterday, before this discovery, that 
 there had been a change in your husband ? " 
 
 " No-o," she answered hesitatingly ; " there 
 had been no change on the surface." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 He felt her arm tremble in his. There 
 was no answer, and he repeated his ques- 
 tion. Her voice faltered perceptibly. 
 
 " Can you wonder that my respect is 
 dead?" 
 
 And your affection ? " , 
 24
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " I told you that my respect was dead. 
 My love could never live without respect 
 to feed it." 
 
 " And yet I have known fatally numerous 
 cases that throve on less, and without the 
 excuse of marriage. I am not asking if 
 you forgive or if you respect. I ask if you 
 still care for your husband as he is ? " 
 
 The rain dropping monotonously on the 
 umbrella was the only break in the silence. 
 Celeste spoke wearily at last. 
 
 " Yes, I still care. But it only makes it all 
 harder more impossible more miserable." 
 
 She broke down suddenly, weeping softly. 
 
 " Oh, I have loved him and indeed, 
 he loved me. I would have given him 
 everything. How could he ah ! How 
 could he wreck it all ! " 
 
 Mr. Atwood let her weep on in silence, 
 until her self-control again asserted itself. 
 Then he spoke. 
 
 "There shall be no wreck, dear child. 
 Take courage : you will come to the rescue. 
 If I could promise you your first ideal of 
 love and life, I would. As it is, I can only 
 help you to a second best, and with nar- 
 
 25
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 rower limits perhaps. But then the worm 
 has to be content in its chestnut, and what 
 are we but worms ? " 
 
 " How good you are, and how you un. 
 derstand ! " she whispered. " I will try 
 indeed, I will try. Whatever you tell me I 
 will do," she added humbly. 
 
 Mr. Atwood's eyelids dropped for a 
 moment. He bent over Celeste's bowed 
 head, and opened his lips to speak ; then, 
 with a sudden change, laid his hand on 
 hers, drawing it farther through his arm. 
 He turned in the direction opposite to the 
 one which they were taking. 
 
 " Then our first steps in the right path 
 will be toward home," he said cheerfully. 
 " We can reach it quickly from here by 
 cross-streets, and my first orders are very 
 practical. You are to put on dry slippers 
 and a warm gown, and to send for a cup of 
 hot tea." 
 
 She smiled sadly. " If that were all ! 
 And then ? " 
 
 " Then the next is practical also, if not 
 so easy. This leakage of your property 
 must be stopped at once." 
 26
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Celeste made an impatient gesture. 
 " That is the last point to consider." 
 
 " No, it is the first. Remember, I have 
 known your husband as long as you have, 
 perhaps longer; and I know him as one 
 man knows another. He will not enter 
 into obligations with no means of meeting 
 them : he did not before marrying you. 
 When he comes to you again, you must 
 speak as lovingly and gently as you can, 
 but with decision. Tell him you feel it is 
 wronging his children to transfer so large 
 sums on the judgment of one mind ; that 
 you would be more content if some one else 
 were consulted any one he chooses to 
 name, provided he have knowledge on such 
 subjects. The objection would be too rea- 
 sonable, the condition too generous, to be 
 cavilled at. He will consent, and, if I 
 know him at all, suggest that you name a 
 friend of your own. In that case, the per- 
 son most natural for you to mention would 
 be myself. He will not be likely to lay a 
 reinvestment before me of which I would 
 not approve." 
 
 There was no sarcasm in his voice, and 
 27
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 she looked up with quick humiliation to 
 read it in his face, but in vain. With a 
 sudden realization that this was the ini- 
 tiation of her part, she uttered a broken 
 exclamation, as of physical pain. 
 
 " No, no, it is impossible : you overrate 
 my strength." 
 
 As Mr. Atwood looked down at what had 
 been a face formed for all that was hopeful 
 and loving, and saw it now, twisted with 
 emotion, his eyebrows contracted, and a 
 curious deep cleft grew between them. He 
 spoke with extreme gentleness : 
 
 " Celeste, if there were any other way in 
 the world, I should never insist on one 
 which is so repugnant to you, but there is no 
 other. If you destroy your husband's be- 
 lief in your belief in him, you rob him of 
 anything to live up to in life. When you 
 withdraw the copestone of his self-respect, 
 you set that of his ruin. He could never 
 look you in the face again. You would 
 lose everything and gain nothing. Your 
 strength is to sit still. And besides " 
 
 He paused and hesitated, then smiled the 
 kindly, half-whimsical smile peculiar to him. 
 28
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " I may as well say it. Suppose, to-day, 
 every loving wife in the world confessed to 
 her husband the exact estimate at which 
 she rated his characteristics in the tribunal 
 of her secret soul, how many homes would 
 be left standing to-morrow do you think ? 
 We demand that our women admire us, 
 Celeste. It is an innocent vanity, but I 
 wonder if you know how deep its roots are ?" 
 
 Again Celeste smiled sadly. 
 
 " You have conquered once more," she 
 said, sighing, " and none too soon. There 
 are my doorsteps. Yes, I will try, and if I 
 fail, or if I succeed, I shall be ever grateful 
 to you." 
 
 " You will not fail. Nature did not give 
 you that prominent little chin for nothing, 
 my child." 
 
 " No," she answered thoughtfully, " I 
 think that I shall not fail." 
 
 They walked up the wet marble steps in 
 silence. Mr. Atwood rang the bell, and 
 they stood in the sheltered vestibule, with 
 that strangeness already creeping in which 
 must come sooner or later after hearts have 
 been laid open. 
 
 29
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " There is one thing more," said Mr. 
 Atwood ; " all that has been said by you to 
 me and by me to you under this circle of 
 gingham must be closed with its closing 
 and forever. I shall never refer to it again, 
 nor must you." 
 
 " I understand," she answered simply. 
 
 The servant's footsteps sounded within, 
 coming down the hallway toward the door. 
 Celeste held out her hand, and as he took 
 it in his, with a gesture which had no touch 
 of gallantry in it, Mr. Atwood raised it to 
 his lips. 
 
 " You will succeed," he repeated. The 
 door opened the harness of convention- 
 ality was adjusted. 
 
 " You will come in ? " said Celeste, with 
 an interrogation which meant nothing. 
 
 " No," he responded in the same manner, 
 " not now. Remember, Celeste, dry shoes 
 and a warm gown and a cup of hot tea." 
 
 " I shall forget nothing." 
 
 He hurried her gently through the open 
 door. 
 
 " And you are not to stand in the draught, 
 either," he added, smiling. "Farewell"" 
 
 30
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Farewell," she replied. Her lips opened 
 as if she would have spoken further, but 
 the door was closed. 
 
 Mr. Atwood stood for a moment on the 
 doorsteps outside. His lower lip was caught 
 between his teeth, and the upper one curled 
 slightly. The same curious cleft appeared 
 between his brows. 
 
 " No, I shall never forgive him," he mut- 
 tered as he descended the steps ; " never 
 but you will. It was not about a woman 
 that he lied to you."
 
 LINK II. 
 HIS I. O. U. 
 
 The chain 
 
 twists.
 
 LINK II.* 
 
 HIS I. O. U. 
 
 Dramatis Persona: MR. ATWOOD and 
 ALINE, his ward. 
 
 Time : A first of April. Morning. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 The curtain rises on a lawyer's office, the 
 walls lined with sad-colored books, the 
 shelves tipped with dark green leather and 
 brass-headed tacks, once bright, but now 
 succumbing to the prevailing neutral tint. 
 The heavy mahogany chairs are covered 
 with the same dark leather. The green 
 felt top of the desk at which MR. ATWOOD 
 is discovered sitting is black where the ink 
 spots are new, rusty where they are old, 
 and half covered by papers and pamphlets. 
 
 * Reprinted by permission from Scr titter's Magazine. 
 
 35
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 The April sunshine sifts in through an 
 open window at the left of the desk, and 
 falls on a deep chair placed there. A door 
 at the back of the room opens softly. 
 
 (Enter ALINE, dressed as a school-girl. She 
 moves timidly across the floor, and 
 pauses before the desk.) 
 
 Aline. I knew you would not be very 
 angry with me. Are you ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (looking up with a start, and 
 dropping his pen). Aline! 
 
 Aline (tremulously). Are you very angry ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (thrusting back his chair and 
 rising). Angry, my dear child ! No. (He 
 moves to her side, taking her hand in both 
 his.) But why did you not send for me to 
 come to you ? And we must not leave 
 Madame Armand outside in this fashion. 
 (He walks toward the door as he speaks.) 
 
 Aline (Jiurriedly). You needn't look for 
 her. She's not there. I I have run 
 away. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (turning sharply, his hand 
 still on the lock). What ! 
 36
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline (faintly). I have run away. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (opening the door, throws a 
 hasty direction into the outer room}. Admit 
 no one. Engaged on important business. 
 No one, you understand. (ALINE stands 
 alone by the desk. She shrinks back as MR. 
 ATWOOD closes the door and approaches her?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood (reassuringly). What is it, 
 my child ? What has happened ? 
 
 Aline (gaspingly). Nothing. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. You must not be afraid 
 tell me. I am not angry, my dear. 
 
 Aline (raising her hand to her throat and 
 compressing it slightly). I wouldn't speak to 
 me in that way, if I were you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I did not mean to be stern. 
 
 Aline. I didn't think you were. I meant 
 that if you speak to me so kindly, I shall 
 cry, and I don't want to. (MR. ATWOOD 
 draws her hand from her throat and holds it 
 in his, stroking it soothingly} 
 
 Mr. Atwood (smiling). Shall I scold you, 
 then ? If nothing has happened, I am 
 afraid that is your guardian's duty. 
 
 Aline (glancing tip quickly). If you scold 
 me, I shall surely cry. 
 37
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Then I had better say 
 nothing about it just now. How did you 
 find your way to my office ? 
 
 Aline. I knew your address, and I came 
 in a cab. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Alone ! 
 
 Aline. Why not ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (anxiously). My child, that 
 must not happen again. Send for me, and 
 I will come to you at any hour of 'the day 
 or night. You know that. 
 
 Aline. I did not think you would mind 
 the cab. I was not afraid. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. But I am. Tell me, what 
 will Madame Armand say when she knows 
 that you have run away from her to your 
 stern guardian ? 
 
 Aline. You are not stern. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Ah, you do not know me. 
 I am going to be very stern now. 
 
 Aline (with a quick glance}. You couldn't. 
 (She smiles?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood (smiling also, and shaking his 
 head}. No, I'm afraid you are right. But 
 you have not yet told me what Madame Ar- 
 mand is going to say to this escapade ? 
 38
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline. Nothing she won't know. I 
 slipped away so cleverly. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (cautiously}. Then you did 
 not mean to run away for good ? 
 
 Aline (laughing). Oh, no ; did you think 
 so ? I only wanted to see you quite alone. 
 I had something to say to you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (with a breath of relief}. 
 Ah! Shall you be afraid when you go 
 back to Madame Armand, if she should 
 find you out, Aline ? 
 
 Aline. No-o. But she won't. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I am afraid we shall have 
 to take her into our confidence, my child. 
 
 Aline. You are not going to tell her of me ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I am going to take you 
 back to her myself. But she shall say 
 nothing to you. I promise you that. I 
 will come to the school to-night, and you 
 shall then see me entirely alone, and tell 
 me all you want ; but I must take you back 
 to Madame Armand and at once, Aline ! 
 
 Aline. You are going to drive me away ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I am going to drive you 
 away in a carriage, with myself on the seat 
 beside you, that's all. 
 39
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline {passionately withdrawing from 
 him}. If you send me away now, I will 
 never come back to you. I am not a baby. 
 I won't be taken home by my hand, and 
 have my nurse told not to scold me. I am 
 going back alone. (As she reaches the door 
 MR. ATWOOD follows and detains /ier.) 
 
 Mr. Atwood {gravely). Stay, Aline. I 
 will listen now, my dear. (She resists for a 
 moment, but is conquered by a flood of excited 
 tears. MR. ATWOOD leads her to the arm- 
 chair by the window?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Sit here and rest, first. 
 
 Aline {rubbing her eyes with her hands 
 childishly). May I take off my h-hat ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Of course you may. See, 
 here is my chair close by yours, and here 
 am I in it. Now, what is it ? (He unties 
 her ribbons, lays the hat on the floor, and 
 seats himself in a chair near ALINE.) 
 
 Aline (still brokenly). I want to know 
 what you are going to do with me ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Do with you ? 
 
 Aline. Yes ; you are not going to do 
 what Madame Armand says, are you ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. What does she say ? 
 40
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline (indignantly). That I am to spend 
 next winter with her, and that she is to 
 take me out into what she calls " de vorld " 
 and that you said so. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (frowning slightly) . Madame 
 Armand should have let me tell you my 
 plans. Why do you object, Aline ? 
 
 Aline. Then you did say it. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Madame Armand knows 
 the world, and could show it to you very 
 well and pleasantly. She has done so with 
 many other girls. And you like her, do 
 you not ? I thought so. 
 
 Aline. I have not minded learning from 
 her, but is that to be my home ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. It has been your home for 
 many years. You called it that just now 
 yourself. 
 
 Aline. She can't even say home in her 
 language. That's not a home. It's only 
 the place I live. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Doesn't that mean home ? 
 
 Aline (reproachfully). You know it does 
 not. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (smiling). No, not always, 
 I admit. I have no home myself, you 
 41
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 know, outside of my club. But I thought 
 you were happy with Madame Armand. 
 
 Aline. I was quite willing to go to 
 school to her, but next year will be differ- 
 ent. I shall be a woman then, and I did 
 not think I should have to wait longer than 
 that. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (perplexed}. For what ? 
 
 Aline. To live with you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. With me, my dear! 
 
 Aline. If I had known only Madame 
 Armand, it would have satisfied me, I sup- 
 pose, but I was seeing you always, and 
 always looking forward to our living to- 
 gether. You surely remember our plans ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (after a moment's silence). 
 Tell me them over again, Aline. 
 
 Aline (surprised}. Why, you used to be 
 saying it over and over again whenever you 
 came to see me. You used to say we 
 should live together in a little house, and 
 that you would never marry, and I should 
 keep the house for you. Surely you have 
 not forgotten ! 
 
 Mr. Atwood. When and where did we 
 last speak of that, Aline ? 
 42
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline. In the garden at Madame s sum- 
 mer home. You were sitting on a bench, 
 and you lifted me on your knee, and we 
 even decided on our furniture. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (rising, and looking out of the 
 window, his back to ALINE). And you never 
 remember my saying this after you grew 
 too old to be perched on my knee ? 
 
 Aline. No, but I never forgot it. That 
 has always been home to me. Why don't 
 you speak to me ? I believe you don't want 
 me. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (turning quickly). Dear child, 
 you must never think that. (He rests his 
 hand on the back of her chair, looking down 
 at her.) How can I make you understand ? 
 You know about as much of the world as 
 the roar of life out there in the street might 
 tell you, and that is all. 
 
 Aline (eagerly). You could teach it to 
 me and far better than Madame Armand. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. No ; here I have only a 
 tiny corner of life to show you, and see 
 how I stammer and stutter over it. (He 
 seats himself again by ALINE, and covers her 
 hands, which lie in her lap, with his own.) 
 
 43
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Tell me, my dear, did you ever see just such 
 a household as you describe ? Did you 
 ever hear or read of one ? Run over your 
 schoolmates' lives what became of them 
 as they went out from the school ? 
 
 Aline (sadly). That is not the same 
 thing. They all had a father or a mother 
 to go to, or at least an uncle or an aunt. 
 I have never had any one but you, and now 
 I do think you don't want me. (She tries 
 to withdraw her hands. MR. ATWOOD holds 
 them fast.} 
 
 Mr. Atwood (earnestly). Aline, I do want 
 you. What would give me greater happi- 
 ness than to keep you with me always, and 
 have you care for me, and I for you? I 
 have no home either, you know. Do you 
 suppose I am never lonely? Remember 
 all that, and then realize how hard it must 
 be for me to say no. 
 
 Aline (tearfully). Then what makes you 
 say it ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (very gently]. Think a mo- 
 ment, dear child. I am an old man to you, 
 but the world still calls me young ; and you 
 are a child to me, but the world would call 
 44
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 you a woman. We are too young and too 
 old, and we cannot possibly stretch out the 
 years between us, try as we might. Do you 
 understand now ? Look about your own 
 small world, and you will see that kind of 
 household only belonging to married people. 
 
 Aline (sobbing). Then why don't you 
 marry me ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (dropping A LINE'S hands and 
 rising hastily]. My dear child (fie continues 
 with effort}, I must have done very wrongly, 
 but it was without intention to deceive or 
 play on your feelings. I drew a pathetic 
 picture of a homeless life which does not 
 exist, and of a loneliness which is not mine. 
 I am neither lonely nor unhappy.* I am 
 not even uncomfortable, and you must not 
 feel sorry for me, Aline. (ALINE sobs on, 
 and MR. ATWOOD continues entreatingly^) 
 Suppose I were to marry you, my dear. 
 Can't you see that I should be doing a very 
 wicked thing ? ' 
 
 Aline (brushing away her tears]. No, you 
 would not be wicked. If you knew how I 
 hated the thought of being with Madame 
 Armand, you wouldn't say so. 
 45
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (his expression relaxing sud- 
 denly into relief and amusement}. Child, 
 what an unnecessary scare you gave me. 
 Come, dry your eyes, and we will talk it all 
 over. What a watery little woman it is ! 
 See how you have tear-stained your white 
 glove. It is quite wet. Let me pull it off 
 for you. (He sits down again and draws her 
 glove from her hand, finger by finger?) Now 
 we will talk this all out comfortably, and 
 leave nothing to think of afterward. Did 
 you suppose I could be tempted into rob- 
 bing baby carriages ? And what a baby 
 you are, Aline ! 
 
 Aline (with dignity). I shall be eighteen 
 very soon. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. And I shall be two score 
 in a few years. How would you like be- 
 ing hampered with a gray-haired husband 
 then? 
 
 Aline. I should like it dearly. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (hastily). You don't know 
 what you would like when you are a woman. 
 Do you know what even my best friends 
 would say ? That I had kept a little heir- 
 ess in a pill-box, and married her before 
 46
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 she had a chance to peep out ; and it would 
 be quite true. 
 
 Aline (impatiently). If having money is 
 only to make me unhappy, I shall give it 
 all to Madame Armand the day I come of 
 age. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (gravely). Even then, my 
 child, it would not be honourable for me to 
 marry you. 
 
 Aline (reproachfully). And you care 
 more for that than for me ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. No ; you have been as my 
 own child for so many years, that I am 
 afraid, if your happiness and my honour 
 were put in the scales, my honour would 
 kick the beam. But it is your happiness 
 that I am considering now ; for I could not 
 make you happy, try as I might. 
 
 Aline. Why not? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (decidedly). Because you do 
 not love me. 
 
 Aline. I do love you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. No, you do not, or you 
 would be less sure of it, and you would not 
 tell me so. You are fond of me, as I am 
 of you, but you do not love me, my dear. 
 47
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline. What is the difference ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (smiling). You will know 
 some day, and then I will let you marry 
 him. 
 
 Aline. How shall I know ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Ah, that was just the order 
 of question I wanted to leave Madame Ar- 
 mand to answer. 
 
 Aline. No ; tell me yourself. 
 
 Mr. Ativood. Well, first of all, you will 
 know without asking, and deny it, even to 
 yourself. You will stand in the shadow of a 
 needle, and fancy yourself concealed. You 
 will be troubled when with him, and miser- 
 able when away from him. And then I will 
 give you to him, and not before. 
 
 Aline. But I am miserable at the thought 
 of being away from you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. You are miserable at the 
 thought of being with Madame Armand. 
 Tell me the truth, Aline, do you ever miss 
 me after I leave you ? 
 
 Aline. Indeed I do. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. How much, and for how 
 long? 
 
 Aline (thoughtfully). I don't have much 
 48
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 time between lessons, but I want you to 
 come back soon, and I always cry until the 
 class-bell rings after you go. (MR. ATWOOD 
 stoops and kisses her hand with exaggerated 
 gallantry?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood. That is good of you, Aline ; 
 you miss me more than I thought, my dear. 
 But some day, although your eyes may cry 
 less, your heart will cry more. You won't 
 want him back soon, but at once and for- 
 ever. And no lesson-books nor class-bells 
 on earth will be able to make you forget. 
 Then you will remember your old guar- 
 dian's words, and laugh at the idea of loving 
 him. 
 
 Aline. No ; for indeed I do love you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (tenderly}. I know you do, 
 and I love you dearly, my child. We are 
 not ashamed to confess our loves, are we ? 
 There lies the defect. 
 
 Aline. You don't love me, or you wouldn't 
 let me be so unhappy. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. You are not to be un- 
 happy. 
 
 Aline. I shall be unhappy with Madame 
 Armand. 
 
 49
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. You are not to be left with 
 Madame Armand. 
 
 Aline {radiantly). You mean to keep me 
 yourself, after all ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Practically, since you are 
 foolish enough to want me. I don't see it 
 all quite clearly yet, but do you think you 
 would like to live with my sister ? 
 
 Aline. With your sister ? I thought you 
 said 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I will take a house for you 
 both near my own rooms. She is a widow, 
 you know, and, being quite as mistaken as 
 yourself regarding me, will do all I wish. 
 You will see me every day, and oftener, 
 perhaps. That will be your own home, and 
 my second home. Will that satisfy you ? 
 
 Aline (starting to her feef). You are in 
 earnest ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (rising also). In dead ear- 
 nest ! 
 
 Aline. I can't, no, I can't believe it. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (laughing). Shut your eyes 
 
 and try hard, and, whatever you do, don't 
 
 cry again. You have been a naughty child, 
 
 and gotten all you cried for. Now be good, 
 
 5
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 and thank me prettily. (ALINE, with a cry 
 of delight, clasps her hands on his arm and 
 lifts her face, offering him her lips. MR. 
 ATWOOD looks at her and hesitates. He lays 
 his finger lightly on her lips,) No ; we will 
 keep those for the lover to come. You are 
 pleased, then ? You want nothing more ? 
 Think, now, while I am in the melting 
 mood. 
 
 Aline (knitting her brows with difficulty). 
 I don't think of anything more that I could 
 want. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (quizzically). Not even me ? 
 
 Aline. You said I should see you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. And you don't want to 
 marry me now ? 
 
 Aline (shyly], I do, if you want me to. 
 You have been so good. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Aline, confess the truth. 
 Now that you have escaped Madame Ar- 
 mand, you want to throw me over. You 
 never loved me at all. 
 
 Aline. It was you who said that. I told 
 you I did. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. In the past tense already, 
 I vow ! Do you ?
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline (hanging her head}. If all that you 
 told me just now is true, then perhaps I 
 don't. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (laughing aloud}. Very well, 
 then, I shall never ask you to marry me 
 again. I have been refused by a chit of 
 seventeen, on this first day of April. 
 
 Aline (looking at him thoughtfully]. You 
 have been so good to me. Will you take 
 me home now ? (She moves apart from him, 
 and speaks softly, lowering her eyes.} I shall 
 love you forever for what you did then. 
 But all the same 
 
 Mr. Atwood (looks at her keenly. Aside). 
 Have I said too much ? (Aloud.} Here 
 is your hat, Aline. (He lifts her hat from 
 the floor and watches her tie it on. ALINE 
 avoids his eyes. They move to the door, 
 which MR. ATWOOD opens. As he stands 
 aside for her to pass out, ALINE glances back 
 over her shoulder?) 
 
 Aline (mischievously]. You must never 
 tell any one that I offered myself to you, 
 you know. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (following her). Aline ! 
 
 CURTAIN.
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE : the same. 
 
 Time : One year later. 
 
 Curtain rises on MR. ATWOOD seated at his 
 desk, looking at the calendar he holds in his 
 hand. The date marked is April 1st. He 
 lays down the calendar thoughtfully, draws 
 his paper toward him, dips his pen in the 
 ink, and begins to write. The door at the 
 back of the room opens softly. 
 (Enter ALINE, dressed in walking-costume. 
 She crosses the floor on tiptoe, and stands 
 laughing at the other side of the desk.) 
 Aline. How angry are you this time ? 
 (As MR. ATWOOD looks up and attempts to 
 rise, she motions him back.) Don't move ; I 
 am coming to you. (She rounds the desk 
 and drops in a chair by his side. Still laugh- 
 ing and holding out her hand) You have 
 not bade me good-morning yet. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (holding the hand she offers). 
 Aline, you are incorrigible. How did you 
 get here this time ? 
 
 53
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline. In the same way, a cab. Now, 
 why don't you scold ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Because I cannot, and you 
 know it. This is a flagrant abuse of power. 
 Is my sister in town ? 
 
 Aline. Oh, no, she is at the seaside, 
 where you left her. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (reproachfully]. And where 
 I left you. 
 
 Aline. I know ; I have run away again. 
 I took the early train this morning. I 
 wanted to see you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I should be more than 
 human to scold now. That was cleverly 
 done, Aline. What do you want ? Experi- 
 ence, alas, has taught you that you have 
 only to ask. 
 
 Aline. I wanted to see you 
 
 Mr. Atwood. You saw me three days 
 ago. 
 
 Aline. I wanted to see you again; Are 
 you busy ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. No ; as usual, I am at 
 your disposal. 
 
 Aline. You were writing when I came in. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Did you expect to find me 
 54
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 kicking my heels ? No ; to tell the truth, if 
 a penny postage-stamp had been put on 
 my thoughts, I am afraid you would have 
 received them. 
 
 Aline (opening her purse laughingly, selects 
 a coin, which she lays on the table). A penny 
 for your thoughts, then, as you have put 
 your price on them. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (taking possession of the coin, 
 and laughing also). I will give you an 
 I. O. U. See here. (He takes up his pen 
 and writes rapidly. ALINE looks over his 
 shoulder?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood (reads). " I. O. U. my 
 thoughts, to be delivered in ripe season." 
 Does that answer? (ALINE takes the paper, 
 folds U, and lays it away in her reticule with 
 mock carefulness?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood (watching her). And now 
 what ? I am not vain enough to believe 
 that you only wanted to see me. Let me 
 think. You were afraid I would buy your 
 new dining-room table without you, after 
 all. Is that it ? 
 
 Aline. I told you I didn't care about 
 selecting it. 
 
 55
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. And I told you I would 
 not buy it without you. I am a creature 
 of habit. The old table is just right. Sup- 
 pose your new table proved too wide for 
 you to hand my coffee-cup across yourself ? 
 I should never dine with you again, if you 
 invited me every night. You must go with 
 me and test it. 
 
 Aline. Indeed I shall not. What would 
 the cabinet-maker think ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. He would think me an old 
 fool, I imagine, and (pausing and looking at 
 ALINE) I fear he would be quite right. I 
 must content myself by taking him the 
 measurement, I suppose. But come, Aline, 
 I want you to sit over there in the arm- 
 chair by the window, where you sat the 
 first time you came here, one year ago 
 to-day. I have held it sacred to you since 
 then. (He leads ALINE to the arm-chair, and 
 seats himself near her^) I sat just here, oppo- 
 site to you, did I not ? But then you were 
 my obedient ward and to-day I am your 
 obedient guardian. 
 
 Aline (lifting her hat from her head and 
 laying it on her knee). You have not told 
 56
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 me that I might take off my hat yet, and 
 you did the time before. (She passes her 
 hands over her hair?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood (smiling). Mark the year's 
 difference ! Then you humbly asked my 
 permission. To-day you don't wait for 
 it. Time flies, but we fly also. Are you 
 satisfied with the changes of your year, 
 Aline ? 
 
 Aline (using the crown of her hat as a 
 cushion for her bonnet-pins, thrusting them in 
 and out as she talks]. Yes, I am satisfied ; 
 but your sister is not satisfied for me. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. What displeases her ? 
 
 Aline. That I am not married. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (quickly). Did she say that 
 to you ? 
 
 Aline. Not that exactly, but I know how 
 anxious she is to see me settled. She thinks 
 I am in danger of throwing myself away, 
 you know. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Why? 
 
 Aline (indifferently). Oh, because I am 
 wealthy, and because I am pretty. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (laughing). You know that 
 you are wealthy, because I could not well 
 57
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 keep that from you. But how do you know 
 you are pretty ? 
 
 Aline (demurely). I have been told so. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I never told you so. 
 
 Aline (looking up at him and raising her 
 eyebrows). You are telling me so now. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. What kind of discipline 
 does this show ? You ought to stand in 
 awe of me, Aline. 
 
 Aline. I do sometimes. I was horribly 
 afraid of you the night before I left home. 
 I was afraid you would be angry as your 
 sister was. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Was she angry with you 
 and why? 
 
 Aline (thrusting the pins into her hat and 
 looking dowti). Because I couldn't do what 
 she wanted me to you remember. I was 
 afraid to tell you I had sent him away, 
 because I knew you wanted it so much, 
 too ; but, indeed, I had tried my very 
 best. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (leaning toward her}. And 
 you thought I should be angry! that I 
 wanted you to marry ! 
 
 Aline. But you did, did you not ? You
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 kept asking him here and there, and making 
 me go places with him I didn't want to. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. No, Aline, I did not want 
 you to marry him. When you told me you 
 could not, I was indecently happy to hear 
 it. 
 
 Aline. Then why did you feel one way 
 and act another? Of course I misunder- 
 stood you. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Can you see no reason ? 
 
 Aline. I call it very unreasonable. 
 
 Mr. Ativood (earnestly}. No, he had 
 everything to offer you, strength of body 
 and mind, a real devotion, I think, wealth, 
 position and youth. I determined he 
 should have every chance, but as for wish- 
 ing it no, Aline. (He rises and moves to 
 the desk, where he unlocks a drawer and takes 
 from it a long white glove, which he hands 
 ALINE.) You left it here in your last visit. 
 Do you remember ? 
 
 Aline (puzzled, and turning the glove over). 
 No why, yes, I do remember. I searched 
 everywhere for it afterward, and finally 
 threw away the mate. Why did you not 
 give me this before ? 
 
 59
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I have not given it to you 
 now. 
 
 Aline (turning the glove over again; 
 laughs]. It may not be wasted after all, as 
 it happens to be a right-hand glove. This 
 will do for my wedding-day. Keep it for 
 me. When I want it I will ask you for it. 
 (MR. ATWOOD takes the glove from her and 
 puts it in his pocket silently?) 
 
 Aline (laughing). How seriously you 
 take it ! 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I am thinking of the con- 
 fession I have to make to you. I was 
 going down to the seaside to see you this 
 afternoon. 
 
 Aline. But you wrote that you were very 
 busy, and that you couldn't possibly come. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. And it was quite true. 
 
 Aline. Then how could you ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I couldn't from that point 
 of view, but I was coming. I wanted to 
 see you. 
 
 Aline (mischievously). You saw me three 
 days ago. That was your reply to me. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. I wanted to see you again. 
 That was your answer. 
 60
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline. Then you do miss me a little ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (smiling). A little. 
 
 Aline. Only a little ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood (taking her two hands in his, 
 and raising them to his lips). I have not 
 paid you that homage since the day when 
 you last sat in this chair. You say that 
 you have wanted me, Aline. Multiply that 
 tenfold, and you will know how I was want- 
 ing you. I told you I was a creature of 
 habit. Three days ago, when you left 
 town, I turned back again to my old lines 
 of life, and it was as if they had never 
 fitted me. I had drifted from them, and in 
 revenge they would not have me again. 
 My old haunts were but places revisited. 
 Do you know what I mean ? What am I 
 to do ? I was coming to ask you. 
 
 Aline (touching the reticule at her side). 
 Was that the thought you sold me ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. That and something fur- 
 ther. Will you present your paper now, 
 Aline ? I am more than ready to tell my 
 thought. 
 
 Aline. Let me tell something first. I 
 was not quite honest when I said I came 
 61
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 for nothing. (She turns her face from him 
 as she continues, speaking softly?) Last year, 
 when I sat in this chair, you told me that if 
 I really cared, I would be so unhappy in a 
 separation that nothing could make me for- 
 get 
 
 Mr. Atwood (eagerly). Yes ? 
 
 Aline (her face still averted}. And that 
 I then would learn the difference between 
 just being fond of some one and some- 
 thing else. 
 
 Mr. Atwood (bending nearer, and half cir- 
 cling her with his arm). Go on, Aline. 
 
 Aline. And that when my eyes cried less 
 than my heart, I would understand. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. And now, dear ? 
 
 Aline (turning to him suddenly, and hiding 
 her face against his arm). You told me 
 that if I cared really I couldn't say it, and 
 I don't think I can say it at all. 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Then let me say it for you, 
 Aline. 
 
 Aline. That was what I came for. When 
 
 we were separated, then I knew, as you 
 
 said I would Will you bring him back to 
 
 me ? (MR. ATWOOD bends over her in silence. 
 
 62
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 As ALINE attempts to rise he gently prevents 
 her by laying his hand on her head. Once 
 his lips touch her hair, and then he releases 
 her and stands beside her. ALINE, rising 
 also, glances up at him eagerly. As she 
 clasps her hands appealingly on his arm, he 
 looks down at her.) 
 
 Mr. Atwood (slowly). Yes, I will bring 
 him back to you. 
 
 Aline (anxiously). You are not vexed 
 with me ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. No, my child. 
 
 Aline. And you will still love me ? 
 
 Mr. Atwood. Always, Aline. (As she still 
 clings to him he rouses with effort?) All is 
 as it should be ; I shall do my part. I will 
 give you to him as I promised, and dance 
 at your wedding, dear. Are you satisfied ? 
 
 Aline. How good you are to me. (She 
 lifts her face, offering him her lips?) 
 
 Mr. Atwood (framing her face in his 
 hands). No, those are not for me, Aline. 
 (As he releases her and turns away, a rap at 
 the door calls him. MR. ATWOOD crosses the 
 room and opens the door to receive a card 
 which is handed in to him. He reads it and 
 
 63
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 then looks at ALINE. Returning to her side, 
 he speaks steadily?) Aline, some one is wait- 
 ing to see me in the outer office some 
 one who can offer you a great deal, my 
 dear, an honourable name, an eager devo- 
 tion, and the pride of strength and youth. 
 He asks me if I can spare him a few mo- 
 ments. What shall I tell him, dear ? Shall 
 I say that I will spare him far more than 
 that and that it is waiting for him here ? 
 {He takes her glove from his pocket, and holds 
 it toward her?) Take your glove if that is 
 to be my answer. (As ALINE, with bowed 
 head, holds out her hand, MR. ATWOOD lays 
 the white glove across her palm, and, gently 
 opening her reticule, draws out the written 
 form. As he passes the open window on Jiis 
 way from the room, he p arises to tear the paper 
 into fragments, fluttering the white scraps out 
 into the air?) 
 
 CURTAIN.
 
 LINK III. 
 THE NOTE REDEEMED. 
 
 Turn, Fortune, 
 
 turn thy wheel.
 
 LINK III. 
 
 THE NOTE REDEEMED. 
 
 MY DEAR GUARDIAN, Won't you drink tea with 
 me to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock ? You are 
 such a stranger, that I am obliged to hunt you up, not 
 only for the pleasure of seeing you, but because I 
 want to consult you upon my own affair^. 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 ALINE. 
 
 Mr. Atwood did not use a book for 
 memoranda. His pockets were always filled 
 with letters, which served the same purpose 
 for him. These he destroyed as the appoint- 
 ments they made were fulfilled. He had 
 drawn a sheaf of envelopes from his pocket 
 to shuffle them over and find Aline's note, 
 which he laid on her drawing-room fire. 
 He was watching it blaze as she entered. 
 
 " How glad I am to see you ! " she said, 
 giving him her hand. " All this winter you 
 have been neglecting me. I am thinking 
 67
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 of reporting you to the Orphan's Court. 
 Do you know, I have not seen you in these 
 ten days, and then I find you burning my 
 bilkt-doux on my own fire. There are some 
 people who treasure every line I write." 
 
 " One at a time, Aline," Mr. Atwood 
 remonstrated. " First, you are no longer my 
 ward. You were eighteen three birthdays 
 ago. You see I have an uncivil memory. 
 Secondly, I am not 'some people.' What 
 do you hear from HIM ? " 
 
 Aline turned away to the tea-table. 
 
 " Let us have our tea before we talk of 
 my affairs," she said, seating herself. Mr. 
 Atwood drew his chair by the corner of the 
 table near her. 
 
 " Let us sip and talk," he amended, taking 
 the full teacup Aline handed him, " unless 
 this is a pretext for delay. Have you a con- 
 fession which you are afraid to open to me ? " 
 
 Aline flushed as she bent over her bowl 
 of silver. 
 
 " No," she replied, " I am not afraid 
 take this spoon : it is my prettiest. I 
 wanted to consult you about my engage- 
 ment." 
 
 68
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Your engagement ! I have already 
 joined your hands with Archie's, and blessed 
 you. 1 am prepared to give you away when 
 the day is appointed. What more can I 
 do?" 
 
 " Nothing : this is a matter of undoing. 
 I have decided to break my engagement." 
 
 Mr. Atwood set down his half-emptied 
 cup on the table, pushing it from him. 
 
 " You are wiser than I, my child," he 
 said. " The tea should have been drunk 
 first if it were to be finished. What fancy 
 is this, Aline ? " 
 
 " A very practical one." 
 
 " Are matters going wrong practically ? 
 My last letter from Archie was not very 
 brilliant, poor boy, why should it be ? 
 but he spoke confidently of the future." 
 
 Aline moved her chair back impatiently. 
 
 " The future ! I am sick of the future. 
 I want a little present. You said just now 
 that your memory was uncivil. You know 
 my age. I know it. I grow a week older 
 each day, I think, and so much more tired." 
 
 Mr. Atwood also moved his chair from 
 the table, drawing it nearer Aline. 
 69
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 "Go on," he said gravely, "and speak 
 more plainly, Aline." 
 
 " How much more plainly can I speak ? 
 I am tired, bored, ennuye beyond bearing. 
 The French understand. Did you ever 
 read ' Privat S'embete' ? They know it 
 means more than a fancy." 
 
 Mr. Atwood sat with his eyes fastened 
 on his ward's face. His brows were drawn 
 together. 
 
 " Did you learn that with Madame 
 Armand ? " 
 
 Aline laughed. " Perhaps. Madame has 
 her own methods. She managed me to 
 a fault, shall I say ? She would talk to me 
 ' like a mother ; ' those were her words. 
 Shall I repeat to you one of her favorite 
 homilies ? ' My child, you must be more 
 studious. You are quite right. I do de- 
 mand more of you than I myself have. 
 I no, it is the age that demands. To-day 
 is not yesterday. A woman must now do 
 more than amuse. In my youth it was 
 otherwise. You wish to marry well? Of 
 course, all women wish to do that. Well, 
 the standard is raised. Marriage is more 
 70
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 of a double harness. That is all. Learn, 
 my child.' And I learned. Why should 
 Archie and I drag on longer together ? 
 He is fretting his soul out off there. It 
 is this separation from me, the thought of 
 me and my future, which frets him. What 
 use could I be to him in his life as it must 
 stand for years to come ? The truth is, I 
 was created as an ornament of society 
 merely, and as such I feel that I have been 
 broken. I keep turning out my unblem- 
 ished side to the world." 
 
 Mr. Atwood bent forward to take Aline's 
 hand in his. His face had relaxed to the 
 point of smiling. " My dear, unless you 
 want me to be rude, and say to you, no, no, 
 not broken, only a little cracked, you must 
 be somewhat more definite. Let me see 
 if I can tell your story to you. This is the 
 way I read it. Archie has had some draw- 
 backs over which he has brooded to the 
 extent of writing to you and suggesting 
 that he will not bind you longer. Perhaps 
 the letter is too honest to show you how 
 little his heart really means you to act upon 
 this. Is that it ? " 
 
 71
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline withdrew her hand. 
 
 "No, that is not it. I have had no such 
 letter, and I believe no such thought ever 
 crossed Archie's brain. If he had been able 
 to stay here with me, after his financial ship- 
 wreck, it might have been different; as it is" 
 
 "The shipwreck was as unexpected as it 
 was undeserved," Mr. Atwood interposed. 
 
 " I know. I am not blaming him. It is 
 fate ; just as it is fate that I was not edu- 
 cated for a poor man's wife. I have no 
 talent for domesticity. Why should I ? 
 Was there anything at Madame Armand's 
 school to develop it ? I remember no other 
 home until you created this one for me. 
 Yesterday I sat down with my life and 
 looked at it squarely to see only a spread- 
 ing desert of weariness. I will not bear it. 
 Now do you understand me ? " 
 
 Mr. Atwood did not immediately reply. 
 He had lifted his teaspoon, and was exam- 
 ining its carving, from the monogram in the 
 bowl to the figure on the handle. He looked 
 up as Aline ended. 
 
 "I fear I do," he replied slowly. "Who 
 gave you this, Aline ? It is new, I think." 
 72
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Yes," she replied quietly. " Mr. Mc- 
 Henry gave it to me last week. He has 
 returned from Munich, you know." A dash 
 of red came and faded in her cheeks. 
 
 Mr. Atwood again looked down at the 
 spoon. " Yes," he replied dryly, " I know. 
 I thought I recognised the Munich Child, 
 emblem of innocence. Aline, perhaps I 
 have been somewhat to blame in this mat- 
 ter. When the crash came you were more 
 than ready to throw yourself and your for- 
 tune into the breach. Archie refused your 
 offer, but had I supported him less strongly, 
 I think you might have gained your point. 
 You are not lacking in force. Both he and 
 I thought it wiser for him to retrieve his 
 fortunes alone, wiser for each of you. Sup- 
 pose that I now withdraw my opposition, 
 and advise an immediate marriage, what 
 then ? Your fortune would be an ample 
 support for you both. Concerning future 
 luxuries, Archie is not a man to be long 
 held down by circumstances." 
 
 Aline lifted her eyebrows. Her shoulders 
 followed them slightly. 
 
 " My fortune ! While Archie is off there 
 
 73
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 in no place to speak of, it is all well enough 
 to talk of his being economical. Back in 
 his old world, married to me, it would be 
 impossible. My fortune would represent 
 about the necessary pin-money for us. 
 Our tastes are extravagant, or rather mine 
 are, and Archie's are expensive. That 
 sounds better." 
 
 " Aline, two years ago you did not know 
 all this." 
 
 " That was two years ago. I have had 
 time to learn. I know more of the world, 
 more of myself." 
 
 Mr. Atwood was leaning back in his 
 chair, his elbow resting on the table, his 
 hand shading his eyes. 
 
 " What you have learned of the world, I 
 can see," he replied. "What have you 
 learned of yourself ? " 
 
 " That I am a cold woman, incapable of 
 deep feeling. When I hear good women 
 sentimentalising, I feel like saying, ' Bah ! 
 what do you know about life outside of 
 your four walls, the life I need ? ' I would 
 say it if my breeding were not a trifle 
 stronger than my disgust. I have learned 
 74
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 that luxuries are to me what bread and 
 meat are to other, perhaps better, women. 
 Is that the wife for a poor man ? " 
 
 Mr. Atwood lifted his hand from his eyes. 
 
 " Is it the wife for any man ? Aline, you 
 do not realise what you are saying. To 
 whom have you been talking, or what have 
 you been reading ? " 
 
 " You think me reflecting some one else, 
 do you not ? I am only showing you my- 
 self, as you asked me to do." 
 
 "And this is the child for whom I made 
 myself responsible ! You were right, Aline. 
 I have neglected my trust. You have taught 
 me a lesson to-day. Yet I thought I knew 
 you. You brought me your first childish 
 troubles, your first school-girl disillusions, 
 your dawning love-story, and now, thank 
 God, you bring me your first contemplated 
 sin. My dear, we must talk this over many 
 times, and from all sides. I told you my 
 guardianship was past. It is in law, but in 
 affection it still exists. I can still expect 
 your obedience. You must wait a month 
 before deciding. Thirty days is not long 
 to consider so grave a step." 
 
 75
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 For the first time Aline gave evidence of 
 uneasiness. Her fingers interlaced ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " It is too late," she said in a voice un- 
 steady in spite of herself ; " I have written." 
 
 Mr. Atwood rose to his feet and came to 
 her side. He stood with his hand on the 
 back of her chair. 
 
 " Aline," he asked sternly, " do you mean 
 that you have written all this to Archibald 
 Bracken, and sent your letter ? " 
 
 She bowed her head, partly in assent, 
 partly as if shrinking from the storm of his 
 anger. 
 
 " What, then, did this mockery of consul- 
 tation mean ? At least have the courage 
 of your actions, however unworthy. Look 
 up and answer me." 
 
 She raised her head timidly. As her 
 eyes met his, she burst into a sudden pas- 
 sion of tears, hiding her face in her hands. 
 Mr. Atwood stood looking down at her in 
 silence. As she still sobbed, he lifted his 
 hand and, after a moment's hesitation, laid 
 it tenderly on her hair. 
 
 " My poor little worldling," he said, " did 
 76
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 you think me too harsh ? My dear, a man 
 does not forget twenty years in a day. May 
 Archibald Bracken forget two years in an 
 hour. That step is irretrievable. We both 
 know him and know how he will accept it." 
 
 He sat down again, and drawing Aline's 
 hands from her face, held them, all wet with 
 tears, in his own. "Come," he said, "let 
 us talk it over. You have taken your life 
 from Archie and from me into these frail 
 little hands for better or worse. That 
 which is done is ended. We will pick up 
 the broken threads and go on. What is 
 your purpose, dear ? " 
 
 As Aline moved to wipe her eyes with 
 her handkerchief, Mr. Atwood, waiting for 
 her reply, again took up the Munich spoon. 
 " I do not suppose you mean to spend the 
 rest of your life alone," he said ; " I conclude 
 you mean to marry " 
 
 Aline's voice was still broken. 
 
 " Need we discuss that just yet so 
 soon ? " 
 
 " I do not see why not. Subjects are as 
 hard to reopen as wounds. This is wide 
 now. We may as well discuss it to the 
 77
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 bottom. We have always found it better to 
 talk our talks out, you know. As you have 
 turned from a marriage of the heart, I 
 gather you mean to make one of the world." 
 
 " I surely shall not make an unworldly 
 marriage." 
 
 "That is more delicately put, but we 
 mean the same thing. It is a little difficult 
 to be as delicate as we might wish under 
 the circumstances. Suppose we bring the 
 whole matter to a business level, and use 
 business terms. It will be easier, I think. 
 It was Archie's ill-fortune to own stock in 
 a railroad which was reorganised. That 
 is, it got into difficulties, and was bought 
 in by a single man, with all its liabilities, for 
 reselling. What would you think of looking 
 on this as a personal reorganisation ? You 
 have fallen into difficulties. At this point, 
 as a wise financier, you consult your lawyer. 
 Together we brush up our road, and look 
 about us for a new purchaser." 
 
 Aline crimsoned. 
 
 " You are cruel," she said bitterly. 
 
 " Dear child, I am only wording the facts, 
 and wording them as tenderly as such facts 
 78
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 can be set to language. Aline, tell me that 
 you entered into this blindly, that you see 
 it now as it is, for the first time." 
 
 Aline looked aside thoughtfully. Mr. At- 
 wood bent forward, waiting her reply. He 
 sank back in a chair again as she turned to 
 him, her face set. 
 
 " No ; I had not put my future in such 
 plain terms, but you have for me. That is 
 what it will be. I shall choose carefully, 
 with your help. A woman can choose care- 
 fully who has no heart to rule her head. I 
 do not see that I am wrong. I am what 
 I am, and shall make the best of myself." 
 
 " And are you sure of this self-knowl- 
 edge, Aline ? " 
 
 " What do you think ? Could a woman 
 of another kind act as I have acted, speak 
 as I have spoken? I have proved myself." 
 
 Mr. Atwood once more lifted the spoon, 
 which seemed to fascinate him. He looked 
 thoughtfully from it to Aline. 
 
 " Then, why dodge the bullets ? You 
 only turn from one into the path of an- 
 other. Face the fire steadily if you are in 
 earnest. Shall I go on ? " 
 79
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Go on ! " 
 
 " Let us, then, look into the lives and for- 
 tunes of the most likely purchasers for our 
 road. In this case the lives weigh more or 
 less. At the moment I think of four com- 
 paratively suitable purchasers." 
 
 He checked them off on his fingers, hold- 
 ing up his hand, " Ward, Holloway, Mc- 
 Henry, and Ditson." 
 
 " Mr. Ditson has no longer any interest 
 in me," Aline interrupted. 
 
 Mr. Atwood turned down one finger. 
 " Your frankness is helpful, Aline ; all finan- 
 ciers are not so open, even with their confi- 
 dential advisers. That leaves three, you 
 see : of these, Ward has money, but no 
 birth ; Holloway has birth, almost as much 
 money, enough to balance the matter, I 
 think, and knock Ward out." He turned 
 down another finger. " Clearing the decks 
 in this way simplifies decision. That leaves 
 two, Holloway and McHenry, both gentle- 
 men, and with fortunes fairly equal, neither 
 anything particularly aggressive for good or 
 evil, as men go. I happen to know and 
 here you see the value of an adviser that 
 80
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Holloway has a touch of the speculator's 
 fever. Some day you might find yourself 
 plus the man and minus the money. The 
 game would be scarcely worth the candle ; 
 McHenry has no such disqualification. 
 Shall I turn Holloway down, Aline ? " 
 
 Aline looked up at the two fingers he 
 held raised before her, and then into his 
 face. As her lips parted, Mr. Atwood bent 
 toward her, gathering her into his arm 
 before she could speak. 
 
 " My child ! " he cried, " da you think I 
 could so sell you to the highest bidder, even 
 if you can sell yourself in a slave-market ? 
 No and yet yes . You know in these 
 last years I have been fortunate in every- 
 thing I touched. That I have grown wealthy, 
 absurdly wealthy, you do not know. Aline, 
 I could buy the four of those men twice over. 
 I outbid them all. I have cared for you as 
 my own child since your babyhood. Let it 
 go on, with the difference only of a marriage 
 service read over us. I do not offer you 
 love as those others would. But do you 
 want it ? I do not ask your love. You 
 say you have none to give. You have 
 Si
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 nothing to tell me, nothing to keep from me. 
 Sell yourself to me, Aline, if you must be 
 sold. With me, at least, I shall know you 
 safe, and with me you have been happy." 
 
 Aline started back with her hand on his 
 breast, thrusting him from her to stare into 
 his face. Mr. Atwood read the incredulity 
 of hers, and, withdrawing a little, lifted her 
 hand to hold it gently between his own. 
 "Aline, I do mean it," he said more gently, 
 and as if answering her question. " I offer 
 you that which I gave you in the past ; no 
 more nor less. It is for you to decide if that 
 will satisfy you. I do not ask you to speak 
 now. I wish you to wait. Sleep on it, 
 wake on it, take as long as you will. My 
 child, does an offer of marriage so agitate 
 you ? You are trembling from head to 
 foot. Come, for to-day forget it ! I left a 
 glorious to-day outside. Go to your room 
 and dress for a walk with me. We will 
 take one of those sunset rambles we used 
 to have in the old days. Come ! " 
 
 He led her across the room to the door, 
 through which, half laughingly, he almost 
 thrust her, closing the wooden screen be- 
 82
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 tween her gaze of unbroken wonder and 
 himself. 
 
 Alone, he leaned heavily for a moment 
 against the closed door, still grasping its 
 handle. The smile had vanished from his 
 face. 
 
 "And this," he fairly groaned, "this is 
 the woman whose hands clasp my heart, 
 and she God help me she has none."
 
 LINK IV. 
 AN APPLE OF DISCORD. 
 
 Seed, blossom, 
 
 and fruit.
 
 LINK IV. 
 
 AN APPLE OF DISCORD. 
 
 MARIE SEVERANCE was playing the jews- 
 harp. She lay on her divan, her head 
 propped against a bright yellow cushion, 
 which shone through the dark network of 
 her ruffled hair like an aureole. Her head 
 was thrown back, that she might the better 
 reach her mouth, to which she held the harp 
 with one hand, while with the other she 
 twanged its tongue, her feet beating time 
 on the divan. For the rest, she had a 
 French woman's face, and eyes that would 
 have been blue had the black pupils been 
 smaller. The jewsharp twanged, and the 
 louder it sang, the deeper shone the eyes 
 of Marie Severance. She did not hear a 
 knock twice repeated, nor the final opening 
 of the door. 
 
 " Is it over, Mrs. Severance ? " said a 
 voice near her. 
 
 87
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Marie dropped her harp with a little cry. 
 
 " Mr. Atwood, I am so glad you have 
 come ! " 
 
 " Judging from the paean which drowned 
 my knocks, I suppose it is well over," said 
 Mr. Atwood, drawing nearer. 
 
 Marie held out both hands toward him. 
 She made no effort to rise. 
 
 " Congratulate us ! " she cried. 
 
 In spite of her French looks she spoke 
 English with no accent. 
 
 " It is more than well ; and to you we owe 
 it all." 
 
 Mr. Atwood shook the offered hands 
 warmly. Without waiting for an invitation, 
 he drew a chair by the divan, seating himself. 
 
 " Begin at the beginning," he said ; " tell 
 me word for word. Have the babes in the 
 woods at last found the way in this city of 
 America?" 
 
 " The way to the way." 
 
 "Where is Malcolm?" 
 
 " I put on his hat and sent him out. He 
 was too excited for twelve feet by fifteen to 
 hold him. Oh, if you could have been here ! 
 if you could have heard ! " 
 88
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Did you hear ? Were you in the room ? " 
 
 Marie pointed to a great wooden shelf 
 which ran all along the opposite side of the 
 room, screened by a curtain falling from the 
 ceiling like the upper berth of a sleeping- 
 car. An upright ladder ran from the floor 
 to the shelf. Mr. Atwood looked up and 
 laughed. 
 
 " You hid there ? " 
 
 " Yes ; after almost a quarrel with Mal- 
 colm. He wanted me to go down-stairs 
 and sit with our land-woman until the Mas- 
 ter was gone. I will not call her a lady; 
 for she comes up here in our absence touch- 
 ing everything ; not to steal, you under- 
 stand, but in vulgarest curiosity. I knew 
 if I went down-stairs Malcom would never 
 tell me anything. The last time you asked 
 the Master to look at his picture, I really 
 heard nothing, except that he praised the 
 execution, condemned the conception, and 
 so " She made a gesture as if wiping it 
 all out. " With this new canvas I made 
 up my mind I would hear for myself. I 
 prayed Malcolm to let me lie on the shelf 
 behind the curtain. I promised him I 
 89
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 would not move. He would not hear of 
 it. I should surely cough or sneeze, and 
 then it would be worse than if I had stayed 
 openly on the floor. I vowed I would do 
 neither, and that I would stay. I wept and 
 entreated, so at last he consented, but very 
 discontentedly. He made me crawl up on 
 the shelf long before the Master's coming, 
 to be quite sure I was not caught by him. 
 And then the Master was an hour late. 
 Two hours did I lie there picking a little 
 hole in the curtain to see through, and hear- 
 ing Malcolm's ' Hist ' at every sound I 
 made. But when the Master came, that 
 was worth all." 
 
 "He has fully approved?" asked Mr. 
 Atwood, glancing towards a draped easel 
 which stood at the other side of the room. 
 
 " Let me go on as it comes. He seated 
 himself there on that stool before the pic- 
 ture, Malcolm standing just behind him, 
 and I lying up there peeping down. For 
 what seemed to me an eternity, he sat there 
 silent silent. I could hear him breath- 
 ing. My poor husband grew whiter and 
 whiter ; for me, I could have screamed. I 
 90
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 had to stuff the corner of the bedquilt 
 which fell quite near me into my mouth. 
 At last he did turn. He laid his hand on 
 Malcolm's shoulder. ' You are to be con- 
 gratulated,' he said." 
 
 "Bravo!" cried Mr. Atwood. "From 
 that opinion there is no appeal ; what 
 else ? " 
 
 " He staeyed on for an hour, talking. ' You 
 are on the right road,' he said; 'you will 
 succeed. Work, work, work, do nothing, 
 think nothing else.' Malcolm was stag- 
 gering when he came back into the room 
 after letting him out. I was then only half- 
 way down the ladder, and I thought I could 
 fly to him. He just caught me in time. 
 We were like crazy things. He startled 
 me, he was so excited. I sent him out,, 
 while I " 
 
 "You played the jewsharp," said Mr. 
 Atwood. " Here he is again. ' All hail, 
 Severance, thou shalt be king hereafter ! ' ' 
 
 The door had opened to admit the owner 
 of the studio, a young man of attractive 
 personal appearance, with perceptive blue 
 eyes, and a sensitive mouth. His decided 
 
 9*
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 chin seemed an odd ending to an otherwise 
 dreamy face. 
 
 " Show me your picture again," Mr. At- 
 wood went on. " I am but mortal, and it 
 will be more beautiful to me now that the 
 Master has approved." 
 
 Malcolm Severance seated himself delib- 
 erately on the nearest chair. 
 
 n I shall do nothing of the kind," he 
 answered. "The picture is just what it 
 was before. I suppose Marie has re- 
 counted our triumphs to you, and left me 
 nothing to tell. I am doubly glad you 
 came in just now. I wanted you to hear 
 this, and also to consult you about two pic- 
 tures I have had offers for." 
 
 It was apparent that he had not walked 
 off his excitement ; but he brought out the 
 pictures, and talked them over with a self- 
 control and grasp of money values that 
 made Mr. Atwood smile. 
 
 " What an American you are, Severance ! " 
 he said ; " if you had a grain less talent in 
 this line, it would be a crying shame that 
 you are lost to the business world. Show 
 me another artist who can look at his work 
 92
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 and make of it a neat sum in arithmetic, 
 as you do." 
 
 Severance shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I am not all artist, thank Heaven ! " 
 
 " Not always, you might say," Mr. At- 
 wood amended. " When you get your pa- 
 lette in your hands, you are an artist to 
 frenzy, but the minute you lay it down the 
 frenzy goeswith it. Mrs. Severance, what 
 are you doing ? " 
 
 Marie had risen from her divan to move 
 quietly about the room. While the others 
 talked she had taken the yellow cover from 
 the table in the centre of the floor and re- 
 placed it by a white one. Like a squirrel 
 visiting its hoards, she had gone from 
 one hiding-place to another, bringing from 
 each something for her table. Finally she 
 opened the door of a small stove that stood 
 in a corner, and drew out a leg of lamb of 
 proportionate size. As Mr. Atwood turned 
 to speak to her, he saw the well-spread 
 board. 
 
 " Where did that come from ? " he said. 
 " I have always wished to be present at 
 this operation, and now I have been here 
 93
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 without knowing it. Severance, you surely 
 have a clever wife. Look at this temperate 
 feast, sacrificial lamb at the head, consol- 
 ing salad here, cheerful apples there, and 
 wine to gladden the heart. Is this third 
 plate for me ? " 
 
 " When your plate is not on the table, it 
 shall wait there in the closet," said Marie. 
 " Come, eat with us. All is ready." 
 
 Mr. Atwood shook his head. 
 
 "This mushroom table has upset my 
 plans. Mrs. Severance, I was about to ask 
 a favour of you. But first tell me why you 
 have never shown any curiosity regarding 
 my wife ? Did you know I had one ? " 
 
 Marie laughed. 
 
 " Yes, I knew so much as that. If you 
 ask me why I never questioned you about 
 her, I can reply, ' Because I hate questions.' 
 I am always careful to say, ' You are well, 
 I hope ; ' never, ' How are you ? ' ' 
 
 " I suppose," Mr. Atwood rejoined, "that 
 if you have thought at all, you have set us 
 down as old married people. We are not a 
 young couple, at least one of us is not, 
 but our coupling is young enough. We 
 94
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 have not been married a year, Mrs. Seve- 
 rance. I had meant to ask your permission 
 to bring Mrs. Atwood to call upon you to- 
 day. As it is, I must postpone the pleas- 
 ure; for I left her in a picture gallery 
 down the street, and must return for her." 
 
 Malcolm Severance replied by opening 
 the door of the closet and taking out a 
 fourth plate, which he set on the table. 
 
 " That is soon settled," he said. " It's 
 our last plate, though ; if any one else 
 comes, he must eat off his hands." 
 
 Marie quickly added a glass, knife, fork, 
 and spoon to the plate on the table. She 
 placed a chair before them. 
 
 " Madame is served," she said with a 
 wave of her hand, " if she will come ; but 
 can she stand these steps of ours ? " 
 
 " She is not so old as I am, and I stand 
 them often enough," Mr. Atwood answered, 
 smiling. 
 
 " You are a man. Seven flights to wind 
 around and around ! A perfect corkscrew. 
 Sometimes I think I am one when I reach 
 the top. It is making one of my legs grow 
 longer than the other. . I shall be glad when 
 
 95
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 it does myself. It will be so much easier to 
 climb up then." 
 
 Her husband interrupted her half an- 
 grily : 
 
 " How can you say such things, Marie ? 
 Your figure is perfect." 
 
 Mrs. Severance shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " That is resentment for his model, not 
 his wife. Go, bring Madame, Mr. Atwood. 
 The lamb will be cold. Stay, it shall wait 
 for you in the oven ; only hurry." 
 
 Mr. Atwood still lingered. 
 
 " I accept your invitation for us both," he 
 said ; " but be prepared, Mrs. Severance, 
 you will not see what you expect." 
 
 " I have lived in seven cities, and lived 
 as many lives as a cat in each. All that in 
 twenty-one years. Mr. Atwood, I expect 
 that which I see." 
 
 As Mr. Atwood left the room, Severance 
 turned to his easel. He drew the cover 
 from his picture, and was standing looking 
 down at it when his wife joined him. 
 
 " Not curious ! " she said. " I have longed 
 to know something about his wife. Mal- 
 colm, I have a curiosity which can hardly 
 96
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 wait seven flights and down the street. 
 Malcolm, you don't hear a word I speak 
 to you." 
 
 She picked up a long brush that lay near 
 by with her husband's palette, and struck 
 him with it on the shoulder. He looked up 
 with a start. 
 
 " See," she cried, " would you love me 
 better if I were like this bristles for hair 
 and a stick for a body ? " 
 
 Severance took the brush from her, laugh- 
 ingly kissing her hand. 
 
 " What would then become of my Cigar- 
 ette Maker ? " 
 
 He nodded toward a second canvas 
 leaning against the wall. Marie's face 
 changed. 
 
 " Malcolm," she said slowly, " listen. 
 Some day I shall startle you. I am your 
 wife, flesh and blood, not your model. Sup- 
 pose to-morrow I say to you, ' I will pose no 
 more for you.' What then ? " 
 
 " You would not say it. You are my in- 
 spiration, Marie." 
 
 " I am your wife. I may say it." 
 
 " No ; you will not."
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " You know me ; I will not. I am a fool. 
 That is, I am half a fool. Were I all fool, 
 or all knowing, it might be better for us 
 both. I hear them coming, Malcolm. Tell 
 me where I should meet Mrs. Atwood ? In 
 the centre of the room, at the door, half- 
 way down the seven flights, where ? " 
 
 " Here," answered Severance, " as they 
 are here now." He opened the door as he 
 spoke, and Mr. Atwood entered with Aline. 
 Marie came forward quickly. 
 
 " I do not need an introduction to Mr. 
 Atwood's wife," she said prettily, taking 
 Aline's hand between both of hers. " If 
 you do not know how glad I am to see you 
 here, let me tell you so. Mrs. Atwood, 
 your husband has promised that you will 
 break bread with us. I will not make you 
 mount to my bedroom." She glanced 
 quizzically at the shelf. " You see we have 
 imported some Paris customs. But seven 
 flights are enough ; let me take your wrap- 
 pings from you, and first, let me present 
 my husband." 
 
 Aline accepted the introduction, allowed 
 Marie to remove both gloves and wraps, 
 98
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 and took her place at the table with what 
 was for her an unusual awkwardness. She 
 was conscious of the fact, and annoyed by 
 it. That she was a woman of the world 
 she believed. But this was not her world. 
 Her husband sat in his place as easy as if 
 at his own table 
 
 " What is it, Severance ? " he asked. " You 
 want me to preside, do you? Of course 
 I will. You have distinguished yourself 
 enough for one day. I speak to be toast- 
 master too. Open the wine, while I carve 
 the lamb. ' Mary, have a little lamb ? ' Par- 
 don the liberty, Severance." ' 
 
 Mrs. Severance laughed gayly. 
 
 " I can quote your nursery rhymes too. 
 ' Mary loves the lamb, you know.' " 
 
 "I see you one better," added Severance, 
 wrestling with the corkscrew. " ' Every- 
 where that Mary is the lamb is sure to 
 go.'" 
 
 " Perhaps it is that ' she is always kind,' " 
 ventured Aline, glancing at Mrs. Severance. 
 She flushed as she spoke. This was an 
 atmosphere wholly foreign to her, and she 
 felt it. Therefore she made a special ef- 
 99
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 fort. Mr. Atwood laid down the carving 
 knife and fork. 
 
 " Severance," he said, " you need not 
 open that bottle, my friend. This table is 
 too sparkling as it is. I think the Master's 
 visit has intoxicated us all. Here is my 
 ever-sedate wife adding her quotum. You 
 have already filled the glasses ? Very well, 
 then. Here's to the future as we see it 
 to-day ; to be drunk standing, and every 
 glass meeting over the table." 
 
 Aline's glass clicked with the rest. As 
 they sat down again after the toast, Marie 
 leaned toward her across the table. 
 
 "I know who is kind," she said grate- 
 fully. " I fear we are too exultant for civil- 
 ity to-day, Mrs. Atwood. You are very 
 good to lend yourself to our mood. My 
 father used to say to me that nothing en- 
 deared one to others so much as that. He 
 was so kind himself! I remember once 
 when he was very old that he called on an 
 old lady who was sorely distressed because 
 her false teeth were broken, and she was 
 obliged to receive him toothless. What did 
 my father do ? He turned his back for a
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 moment, and when he faced her again he 
 was toothless also." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mr. Atwood, " there was a 
 perfect breeding. But, do you know, false 
 teeth are a triumph of civilisation at which 
 I still wonder. Upon my word, I expect to 
 see the day when we can buy artificial feel- 
 ings over a counter, so much per pound ; 
 who'll buy?" 
 
 "Not I," Aline answered ; "real feelings 
 are troublesome enough." Severance looked 
 up at her quickly. 
 
 " For me that day has come," he said. 
 " What feelings and what lofty ideals I 
 have Marie supplies for me." 
 
 Marie interrupted him reproachfully. 
 
 " Malcolm, Mrs. Atwood will believe 
 you." 
 
 " Then she will believe the truth. Per- 
 sonally, my ideals are distinctly low. I 
 would far rather be a live coward than a 
 dead hero. Mrs. Atwood, I should have 
 given up the struggle and become a sign- 
 painter long ago had Marie let me be. It 
 is she who scourges me on and keeps me 
 whipped up to a proper point."
 
 Links in a Chain 
 
 " The reaction has set in," said Mr. At- 
 wood. " I have been waiting for it. How 
 long does this mood usually last, Mrs. 
 Severance ? Did you confess these mental 
 backslidings and wifely exhortings to the 
 Master, Malcolm ? " 
 
 Severance began to laugh. 
 
 " Did not Marie tell you how the Master 
 inquired into my domestic life ? " 
 
 Marie was bending over her plate. 
 
 " I could not remember everything," she 
 said. 
 
 Mr. Atwood glanced at her as she spoke. 
 
 " Mrs. Severance told me the whole 
 story," he answered somewhat quickly. 
 " I repeated it to Mrs. Atwood on the way 
 here." 
 
 " No, I did not tell you what he refers 
 to," said Marie, looking up again. " Tell 
 it yourself, Malcolm." She drew the salad 
 toward her, cutting out the stalks from the 
 lettuce and larding the shredded leaves 
 with oil. 
 
 " It was the most absurd thing. I told 
 Marie the Master must not suspect her ex- 
 istence; that he would never understand
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 our living in this fashion. You know he 
 would have thought it simply suicidal, and 
 washed his hands of me in tha beginning. 
 As it was, he looked all about him at the 
 stove, the table, the shelf, the divan. I 
 could see Marie's work-basket where you 
 forgot it on the divan, my dear, and I 
 expected an accusing finger and ' What's 
 that? ' each moment. Fortunately he over- 
 looked it, or it conveyed no impression. 
 ' You cook here, I see,' he said. ' Yes.' 
 'And sleep up there?' 'Yes.' 'You have 
 no chum ? ' ' No.' He literally beamed. 
 ' That's^ right, right. Live for one thing 
 alone. Give your whole self, to it. Half 
 a loaf may be better than no bread ; half a 
 heart is worse than none at all.' Marie, 
 what are you doing with that vinegar ? " 
 
 Marie pushed the salad bowl from her. 
 
 " Spoiling the salad," she answered. 
 " My hand slipped." 
 
 Mr. Atwood stretched out his arm, lifting 
 the bowl and setting it on the table before 
 himself. 
 
 " Let me doctor it," he said. " You two 
 children can do nothing to-day. Severance
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 couldn't carve, and you mess the salad. 
 Here, give me the salt and pepper. Sever- 
 ance, suppose the Master knew your full 
 cup of iniquity that you had not only 
 hampered your career with a wife, without 
 whom you would be as much good to the 
 world as a saltless salad, but that in marry- 
 ing her you had spoiled another artist." 
 
 "An artist ! " repeated Marie scornfully. " I 
 plumbed my art long ago. In posing, mak- 
 ing costumes, suggesting occasionally, my 
 art finds as full expression as it deserves." 
 
 " H-e-a-r-t," spelled Mr. Atwood in a low 
 voice to Marie ; " add he to woman's art, 
 and you see what you get." 
 
 Marie laughed. " I had plenty of time 
 to choose between the syllables. I kept 
 Malcolm at bay for a long term. He was 
 my lover from his entrance into Paris and 
 the art class, and a very difficult lover he 
 was to hold back." 
 
 " I can well believe it," answered Mr. 
 Atwood. " Look at him now, preaching his 
 soul out in sophistries to Aline over an 
 apple seed and she drinking it all in. Mrs. 
 Severance, the longer I live the more I 
 104
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 realise that what a man says to a woman 
 matters not at all. It's the manner of say- 
 ing that counts. The most impassioned 
 love letter I ever read was written on a 
 typewriter. I assure you it brought tears 
 to my eyes as I read it, but in spite of all I 
 could do it broke the engagement." 
 
 At the other side of the table Aline and 
 Severance were talking together. 
 
 " Mr. Severance," Aline had begun, 
 abruptly for her, "will you tell me if you 
 meant it when you said just now that you 
 had no feelings." 
 
 Severance turned his reflective eyes upon 
 Aline's face. 
 
 " Did you mean it," she continued, "when 
 you said that your ideals were low ? " 
 
 Still gazing at her, he smiled siightly. 
 "Are your ideals low?" he asked. Aline 
 flushed. " I did not mean to offend you," 
 he went on ; " why should they not be ? " 
 
 He drew out an apple from the bowl of 
 fruit on the table, and twisted it in his 
 hands, ripping it open. Some of the black 
 seeds fell on the tablecloth. 
 
 "That was what I wanted to show you.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Look at this seed. The ideal for which it 
 stands is an apple-tree. If it find proper 
 soil it is one." 
 
 He picked up the seed in his fingers, and, 
 biting the kernel from it, flung the husk 
 away. " What is it now ? A seed fallen 
 by the wayside. I was not the soil for it. 
 We don't sow the ideals or make ourselves ; 
 we are simply born, and with or without 
 feeling, as the case may be. So your ideals 
 are low ? " 
 
 " Yes," she replied. " As you put it, I 
 was not born to harbour high ideals." 
 
 " Then why should you pretend to them ? 
 Do you conscientiously live up, or rather 
 down, to those ideals you have ? " 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 " Contentedly ? " 
 
 " Comparatively." 
 
 "Then you are braver than I. I live 
 up to, or rather reach after, what Marie 
 expects of me, not what I am. My apple- 
 seed grows in an artificial soil largely pro- 
 vided by Marie, and at great labour. I 
 possessed personally about a flower-pot of 
 ambition, where the wretched little seed got 
 106
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 started one day. Now I have got to grow 
 a tree. I often wish some one had bitten 
 the seed in two, and eaten it as I do this 
 one. Have you never eaten an apple-seed? 
 Pray take one, and remember you are eat- 
 ing concentrated tree." 
 
 Aline took the seed he offered. 
 
 "The flavour is very delicate," she said, 
 "but you make me feel as if I were com- 
 mitting murder." 
 
 "No," he answered; "what we can't 
 grow, let us eat to-morrow we may die. 
 Do you know, I love every part of an apple. 
 I can munch and munch and dream of the 
 flesh-pots of Egypt. Apples are my flesh- 
 pots. I ought to be farmer of a New Eng- 
 land apple orchard to-day, as my father 
 and grandfather were before me. There is 
 nothing like a country life. A glorious self- 
 satisfaction and fat content with all things 
 shut one in deliciously. I dream of drop- 
 ping back into it. Some day I shall. My 
 earliest recollection is of lying awake to 
 listen for the apples dropping from an old 
 tree that was too decrepit to hold its fruit. 
 I could hear them thud and roll over the 
 107
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 roof of the porch outside my bedroom 
 window to the ground below. My youth 
 was filled with apples. When I hear the 
 word country I think of apples, orchards of 
 them. From the hills that overlooked our 
 farm I could sit by the hour and gaze down 
 on the lines and lines of trees standing 
 like combs below me, green at one season, 
 white and pink at another, then brown and 
 bare, but always low boughed and with 
 twisting limbs. It was those trees that 
 drove me into being an artist those trees 
 first, and after that, Paris and Marie." 
 
 " Still haranguing, Severance ? " said Mr. 
 Atwood. " What is your text ? " 
 
 Severance turned indolently. 
 
 " I was telling Mrs. Atwood that I was 
 born in a briar patch, and bricks and 
 mortar stifle me." 
 
 "Nonsense ! " said Mr. Atwood, laughing ; 
 " in an ethical briar patch you were born ; 
 but as for bricks and mortar, the dust of 
 the city is the breath of your nostrils, 
 Malcolm. Aline, are you watching the 
 hour ? Mrs. Severance will pardon us for 
 doing so. We have an engagement later." 
 1 08
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " We have it now," said Aline, glancing 
 at her watch. 
 
 Mr. Atwood rose unceremoniously. 
 
 " Then we must hurry away. Where are 
 your wraps and gloves, Aline ? " 
 
 Mrs. Severance rose also, bringing Aline 
 her wrappings. 
 
 " There is a rather nice question between 
 us, Mrs. Severance," said Aline, as she 
 accepted her assistance. " Do I owe you 
 a dinner call, or do you owe me a return of 
 my first visit ? " 
 
 " We may leave it to whichever one of us 
 passes the other's home first," answered 
 Marie easily, turning to receive Mr. At- 
 wood's farewell words. 
 
 Aline was left for the moment with 
 Severance. 
 
 " Well ! " he said. 
 
 He was smiling at her as he spoke. Aline 
 suddenly held out her hand. 
 
 "You understand one quickly, Mr. Sev- 
 erance. Perhaps your apple seed meant 
 more to me than you know. Or rather, 
 you watered a seed already well set. I 
 shall be glad to see you in my home." 
 109
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 As they drove away from the Severances' 
 door, Mr. Atwood turned to his wife. 
 " Well ? " he said, and Aline laughed as 
 she looked up. 
 
 "You are the second person who has 
 said ' Well ' to me in the last five minutes. 
 Do I look so thoughtful ? " 
 
 " A little, perhaps. What do you think 
 of the Severances' interior ? " 
 
 " I found it interesting. But how uncon- 
 ventional they are, and you with them ! I 
 never saw you so before." 
 
 " You have for the first time seen Bohemia 
 at home. They are mild gipsies, however. 
 So you found them interesting ? " 
 
 " I found Mr. Severance unusual." 
 
 " And Mrs. Severance ? " 
 
 " She seemed more like ourselves." 
 
 " In reality she is the gipsy. The history 
 of Severance is written. He will do better 
 work every year, and become wholly civ- 
 ilized." 
 
 " He will succeed, then ? " 
 
 " Inevitably. There is nothing inevi- 
 table about Mrs. Severance. She has a 
 strange element of unexpectedness in her.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 I suppose she is the result of an American 
 mother and a French father. I know she 
 lived a roving life, and I fancy a hard one, 
 before her marriage. I am always reminded 
 of a shaddock by her a taste of sweet and 
 of bitter, with a wild flavour suggested, and 
 a tendency to fly in your face. I do not 
 thoroughly understand her. Severance does 
 perfectly when he takes the trouble, which 
 he did not to-day." 
 
 " I should think he might well be capable 
 of understanding a more difficult, a more 
 reserved nature," Aline answered. She 
 looked thoughtfully out of the carriage 
 window into the street. 
 
 Her husband smiled as he watched her. 
 " Too well," he answered. " Severance 
 can lose his own personality in that of 
 those he talks with, if he desires it. Aline, 
 did I think you likely to see much of him, 
 I would drop you a word of warning. He 
 has a clever mind, but it is new made 
 each morning, like a feather-bed, and he 
 does not always think before he talks. 
 He wounded his wife to-day by his care- 
 lessness." 
 
 in
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " I heard nothing." 
 
 " How would you, of all women, like 
 being shelved and repudiated in your own 
 hearing as she was to-day during the Mas- 
 ter's visit ? Mrs. Severance loves her hus- 
 band, and she is more or less jealous of the 
 art to which she is sacrificed." 
 
 Aline's lip curled. 
 
 " He sacrificed much in marrying her. I 
 should think she would be proud of his 
 work." 
 
 " She is both, jealous and proud. You 
 do not understand jealousy, do you, Aline ? " 
 
 " It disgusts me." 
 
 " I could not, then, make you jealous^? " 
 Mr. Atwood laid his hand playfully on his 
 wife's arm. She drew away. 
 
 " In the open streets ! " she remonstrated. 
 " People will say we are sentimental if not 
 jealous." 
 
 "And that would equally disgust you, 
 would it not ? No, Aline, we could be ac- 
 cused of neither. We are known as a prac- 
 tical, jog-trot couple'." 
 
 Aline glanced quickly from her husband 
 to the card-case she held in her hand.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " And you," she questioned, " could you be 
 jealous ? You speak of my lack of jealousy, 
 but I also might complain." 
 
 " Was I complaining ? I think we never 
 have and never will give each other cause 
 for uneasiness. What have you to tell me, 
 Aline?" 
 
 " How did you know I had anything to 
 tell ? " 
 
 " You always grow tentative when you 
 have. What is it ? " 
 
 Aline hesitated, fingering her card-case, 
 which she half opened. 
 
 " Mr. McHenry," she said, " has grown 
 indefinitely impertinent lately." 
 
 " I feared so. What have you done ? " 
 
 " I would have done nothing without con- 
 sulting you. I have ignored until to-day 
 and then " 
 
 Again opening the card-case, she drew 
 out a letter, which after a moment's hesita- 
 tion she gave to Mr. Atwood. As he un- 
 folded and read it, his brow reddened. 
 He folded the letter again, and put it into 
 his own pocket-book. 
 
 " Thank you, Aline," he said ; " you are 
 
 "3
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 very wise, my child. You have not yet re- 
 plied, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh, no." 
 
 " The impertinence is still veiled enough 
 to ignore. When you reach home, write a 
 note to Mr. McHenry in my name, asking 
 him to luncheon to-morrow and to ride with 
 us afterward." 
 
 Aline drew back. " You care no more 
 than that," she said bitterly, " and I was 
 fool enough to be afraid to tell you ! " 
 
 For the second time Mr. Atwood took his 
 wife's hand in his, despite her resistance. 
 
 " Never mind, Aline, no one can see or 
 misinterpret. My child, matters are not 
 quite right between you and me. They 
 have not been so for some time. We must 
 have one of our plain talks, and why not 
 now ? The truth is, we are somewhat con- 
 fused. I am now neither your guardian 
 nor your husband. We have got to find a 
 new basis, or go back to the old one. Dear, 
 there is nothing to cry about. I am not 
 blaming you. Come, there is the curtain 
 pulled down. Now, lean against me, and 
 cry if you want. Why, what is it, Aline ? 
 114
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Poor child, you can't tell me ; for you don't 
 know, and I can do nothing to help you. 
 You must not think me careless of my wife. 
 My personal impulse is to brain Mr. Mc- 
 Henry, but you know there are difficulties 
 in the way of braining a fool. To-morrow 
 I had meant that he should ride with 
 me alone. You can stay at home on 
 some excuse. He will not be offensive 
 to you after that ride, and not be quite sure 
 why, either. Isn't that better than letting 
 him see you understand his impertinence ? 
 My child, perhaps I should have spoken to 
 you of this before. These impertinences 
 are what you will have to expect for a time ; 
 and, as I said, I can help you very little. 
 You know we have made no pretence at 
 a marriage of sentiment. People cannot 
 divine what a Shylock I should be for every 
 pound of flesh that is mine. To be very 
 bald, you represent to the McHenrys of 
 this world the young wife of a man nearly 
 double your age, and fair game for imper- 
 tinence until you yourself make your posi- 
 tion perfectly clear. You alone can do 
 that. But you can with time to help you." 
 "5
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline lifted her head, drying her eyes. 
 
 " Do you mean," she cried indignantly, 
 " that they dare to think ? " 
 
 " In plain words, Aline, they think you are 
 not so cold as your marriage would assert." 
 
 Aline clenched her hands. 
 
 " I am ; such doubts insult me." 
 
 " Nevertheless, they doubt, and patience 
 alone can prove to them that you are the 
 ice maiden you and I know you to be. 
 Aline, I should feel you as safe in your own 
 drawing-room, with the most dangerous of 
 men whispering in your ear, as another 
 woman alone on a desert island." 
 
 He drew her to him as if in apology. 
 " Does that please you ? " he asked in a 
 new tone. " Are you comforted ? " 
 
 "Yes," she said slowly. Then looking 
 up into his face, she asked a sudden ques- 
 tion, which left him for the moment without 
 a reply. 
 
 " But why does it displease you ? " 
 
 " I ! Can a man be displeased that he is 
 so sure of his wife ? " 
 
 As she still gazed at him, he bent to kiss 
 her brow. 
 
 116
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 "My child," he said, "you are right. I 
 was lying to you. Some day you may 
 understand, Aline, but not now, my little 
 Undine, not now. See, we are at home. 
 You have just fifteen minutes in which to 
 change your gown. Dry your eyes and 
 hurry." 
 
 "Dry your eyes and hurry," repeated 
 Aline to herself. 
 
 Her maid had lifted off her bonnet, and 
 was rearranging her mistress's hair. Aline 
 looked into the glass before which she sat. 
 
 " Dry your eyes and hurry yes, that 
 about represents my life." 
 
 As she glanced down, she caught sight 
 of a glossy brown seed nestling in a fold of 
 her ribbons. Aline took it out carefully, 
 and looked at it lying in the palm of her 
 hand. 
 
 " How quickly he understood," she 
 thought. "If I am born so, who is to 
 blame ? " 
 
 Rising, she moved toward her secretary, 
 taking with her a piece of jeweller's cot- 
 ton which lay on her dressing-table. Open- 
 ing her stamp-box, she laid the cotton in 
 117
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 one of the compartments, set the seed care- 
 fully upon it, and closed the lid. Near the 
 stamp-box lay three tickets of admission to 
 a private collection of paintings, which was 
 to open the following day. The tickets 
 were difficult to obtain. Mr. Atwood had 
 expressed the wish that she should accom- 
 pany him to the exhibition. After a mo- 
 ment's hesitation, Aline hastily caught up 
 an envelope, thrusting into it the third 
 ticket, with one of her cards. Again open- 
 ing the little box she stamped her envelope, 
 addressed it to Malcolm Severance, and 
 handed it over to her maid as she finished 
 her hasty toilette. 
 
 Later in the day Mr. Atwood, looking 
 hurriedly for a stamp, wandered into his 
 wife's room and to her desk. As he opened 
 her stamp-box, he saw the plump little apple- 
 seed lying there on its cotton nest, and took 
 it up in his fingers curiously at first, then 
 turning it over, he smiled half sadly, half 
 with amusement. 
 
 " No good ever yet came of a woman and 
 an apple," he said, half aloud ; " still " 
 he laid the seed back in the box. "Ah, 
 118
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 well, it can do no harm, and may serve to 
 interest her." 
 
 ****** 
 Mrs. Severance lay on her divan, but she 
 was not playing her favorite jewsharp as 
 on the day when Mr. Atwood discovered 
 her there three months before. She was 
 lying with her feet crossed, her hands idle 
 by her sides, and her eyes gazing out of 
 the window. There were other differences 
 too, in these three months. Where the 
 lines of Marie's throat had been gracefully 
 slender, they were now almost attenuated, 
 and her figure had lost some of its pretty 
 curves. The room also was changed. The 
 stove in the corner was gone ; through an 
 open door beyond you could see where it 
 had been set in a small apartment, half 
 dining-room, half kitchen. The curtain 
 had also been taken away from the great 
 shelf, and its bedroom furnishings moved 
 to a little closet at the back of the house. 
 All signs pointed to more prosperous days, 
 yet Marie Severance lay on her divan either 
 staring out of the window, or with eye- 
 lids wearily closed. When Malcolm's step 
 119
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 sounded on the stair outside, she raised her 
 head, listening, and looked up smiling as 
 he entered. He came toward her, seating 
 himself on the divan by her side. 
 
 "Tired?" he said. 
 
 " No," she answered ; " only lazy. 
 
 Malcolm laid his fingers on her temples, 
 to draw them down her face and throat, 
 following their outlines. 
 
 " You are too thin, Marie." 
 
 " Am I ? It makes no difference. The 
 Cigarette Maker is finished. Paint me as 
 a beggar before I get fat again." 
 
 " You are feeling well, dear ? " 
 
 " Perfectly well. Why shouldn't I be ? " 
 
 "True, we have plenty to eat and drink 
 now, but you seem to grow thin on it. 
 Perhaps you are doing too much. Suppose 
 in place of having a char-woman in twice 
 a week, we have her here every morning. 
 We can afford it now, thanks to our fairy 
 godmother." 
 
 Marie turned from him. 
 
 " No, I want no help : I am quite well. 
 Malcolm, you irritate me. Success is 
 thanks to yourself."
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 'If Mrs. Atwood had not done all she 
 has, you would have seen the difference." 
 
 " If she had not done it, some one else 
 would. You were ripe for it, that's all." 
 
 " Well, we won't quarrel as to the bridge. 
 The great point is, here I am. Did you 
 sew the button on my coat, dear ? " 
 
 " No," she answered. " Bring me the 
 coat and my work-basket, Malcolm. Yes, 
 that's right. Did you expect me to sew on 
 a button which you did not give me ? 
 Where is it ? " 
 
 " Lost : you must evolve one from your 
 inner consciousness, Marie ; and if it's not 
 worth a button, it's not worth much." 
 
 Marie laughed, turning the coat over on 
 her knee. 
 
 " I am not sure that this is worth a 
 button, either." 
 
 " Give it away, then : I have another. 
 What are clothes to me now? I'm that 
 reckless ! " 
 
 Marie stroked down the velvet collar 
 of his coat with the palms of her hands. 
 " Malcolm, do you remember when I re- 
 newed this velvet collar for you ? We were
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 just married. I had only a remnant to use, 
 and had to piece it with a seam in the . 
 middle of the back. You had worn the 
 collar in rags, but you hated that seam." 
 
 " Of course I did : no man's collar has a 
 seam up the back." 
 
 " So you pointed out to me on every neck 
 we walked behind that winter. Malcolm, 
 now that you have done with the coat, I am 
 going to confess to you. After I relined it, 
 there was always a twist on one of the tails 
 which I never could get out, and which 
 wagged in the queerest way when you 
 walked. I used to slip behind you in 
 agonies of laughter." 
 
 Her husband laughed with her good-na- 
 turedly, tapping her cheek with his finger. 
 
 " No more relining now. Those days are 
 past, thank Heaven ! " 
 
 Marie looked up wistfully. 
 " Yet they were happy days, Malcolm. 
 We did everything together. Do you re- 
 member our papering this room ourselves ? " 
 
 " I remember your using the mortar as a 
 pincushion until we did, and my being 
 perched on the ladder while you pasted be-
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 low, handing me up the stickiest paper. 
 We have had some good times, Marie, but 
 there are better to come." 
 
 " I don't know. Sometimes I am so 
 lonely, Malcolm." 
 
 " That is the price of a successful hus- 
 band. What is that on the table ? " 
 
 " A letter for you." 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me ? From Mrs. 
 Atwood. Let me see. Another private 
 view. That's well. I wanted that. She 
 is very thoughtful." 
 
 "For herself. Do you think she would 
 ask you if she did not desire it ? " 
 
 Malcolm turned toward his wife. 
 
 " Marie, why do you always speak in that 
 tone about Mrs. Atwood ? " 
 
 " How did I speak? Was the tone low ?" 
 
 Her husband was laughing as he remon- 
 strated. 
 
 "That was a woman's scratch, Marie. 
 Sometimes I think you positively hate Mrs. 
 Atwood." 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " She is not conscious of offending you." 
 
 " She is not conscious that I exist." 
 123
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Severance looked up with the quick com- 
 prehension peculiar to him, laughing again 
 as he assented : 
 
 "You are perfectly right. She is a su- 
 premely unconscious being toward every- 
 thing that does not touch herself. For her 
 it simply does not exist. The attitude lends 
 to her a peculiar charm. She is perfect 
 of a kind. Perfect to the sight, perfectly 
 self-poised, perfectly cold, and each man 
 says in his soul, ' / could rouse her.' She 
 is as a perpetual and unconscious flattery 
 to him, if you can understand that." 
 
 " And you ? Do you also think that you 
 could rouse her ? " 
 
 " I ? I accomplish it in a measure. I 
 can at least understand her. We are alike 
 in some ways." 
 
 " Malcolm, you are not." 
 
 " Yes, we are. You don't know, Marie. 
 Man is a many-sided being, a kind of hex- 
 agon ; even his wife knows but one or two 
 sides of him." 
 
 " Is this meant as explanation of your 
 position toward Mrs. Atwood ? " 
 
 " How often must I explain that to you ? 
 124
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 To Mrs. Atwood I represent the first per- 
 son who has understood and frankly sym- 
 pathized with her peculiar temperament. I 
 give her what moral, or immoral, support 
 she needs ; in turn, to me she represents 
 this." He held up the ticket in his hand. 
 " Admittance to every place I need to go ; 
 introductions to all the people I need to 
 know. A fair exchange. That the conse- 
 quences are good we need only glance 
 about us to see. By the way, dear, how do 
 we stand financially? Bollis repeats his 
 offer for the Cigarette Maker. Can we 
 afford to refuse it ? " 
 
 " Malcolm, it is but half its value." 
 
 " I know ; my best work yet, I think. 
 Can we keep it ? " 
 
 " We must ; but I think we easily can." 
 Marie drew a key from her pocket, and, open- 
 ing the drawer of her work-table, took from it 
 a leather bag, the contents of which she emp- 
 tied on the cloth. She looked up laughing, 
 flushed with pleasure as Malcolm whistled at 
 the pile of money poured out before him. 
 
 " The Cigarette Maker is safe," he said, 
 tossing over the heap. " But if I had been 
 125
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 in charge of affairs, this would have slipped 
 away like water. You good little saving 
 thing ! " He drew his wife to him and 
 kissed her. Marie clung to him, her arms 
 about his neck. 
 
 " Do you love me, Malcolm ? " 
 
 " Love you, child ! You were born for 
 me to love. Of course I do." 
 
 " Better than any one in the world ? " 
 
 " In or out." 
 
 She turned from him brightly, gathering 
 the money into the bag again, which she 
 locked up as before. Malcolm had moved 
 to the window, and was looking out, his 
 hands in his empty pockets. As Marie 
 approached he wheeled abruptly. 
 
 " By the way, Marie, I almost forgot. 
 This is Mrs. Atwood's birthday. I have 
 not a cent in my pockets, and I must send 
 her some flowers. As the greater part of that 
 pile of wealth is due to her introductions, 
 we will return her a certain per cent in blos- 
 soms." Marie deliberately passed the key 
 from her hand to her pocket. 
 
 " Not with my consent," she said slowly, 
 her face paling. Malcolm stared at her. 
 126
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " What do you mean, child ? Your con- 
 sent ! Did I ask your consent, or need to ? " 
 
 The large pupils of Marie's eyes grew 
 larger, her jaw set. With an effort at com- 
 posure she sat down on the divan and lifted 
 her sewing from the work-basket. She did 
 not look up as Malcolm seated himself 
 beside her. 
 
 " Marie, what does this mean ? Put that 
 thing down and answer me." He took the 
 work from her hands, not gently. 
 
 The long line of his wife's throat swelled. 
 She lifted her eyes hot with anger. 
 
 "Is it your habit to send tributes of 
 flowers to Mrs. Atwood ? " 
 
 " And if it were ? " 
 
 " I am glad to know what I suspected, 
 that is .all. Malcolm, do you think I care 
 for all these comforts ? I had far rather 
 live forever as we have lived together 
 than suffer this." 
 
 " Suffer what ? Marie, you are carrying 
 this too far. It amounts to vulgar jealousy. 
 I warn you, we have never yet quarrelled, 
 but we may." 
 
 " Why have we not quarrelled ? Because 
 127
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 I have stood everything with only timid 
 remonstrances. This is not vulgar jeal- 
 ousy. So long as you were absorbed in 
 your art as art alone, I bore it. I will 
 not stand its being personified in another 
 woman." 
 
 Severance looked into his wife's face with 
 a coldness which froze the words on her lips. 
 
 " Your mythology is at fault," he said as 
 he rose. " The god of art is personified in 
 a man. Give me that key, if you please." 
 
 Marie sat like a stone. Malcolm held 
 out his hand impatiently. " The key, 
 Marie. Must I remind you that the money 
 is mine to fling in the gutter if I choose." 
 
 She held herself rigidly, and his anger rose. 
 
 " Marie, do you deliberately refuse me 
 that key ? " She still sat with lips tightly 
 shut, her eyes fixed before her. 
 
 " For the last time, Marie ? As you will, 
 then." 
 
 She heard the door open and shut ; the 
 sound of his footsteps on the stairs grew 
 fainter. Marie Severance flung herself on 
 her knees by the divan, and, with her face 
 buried in the cushions, screamed aloud. 
 128
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Come back ; you shall have it " 
 
 She s.topped her own mouth. Her fingers 
 were in her ears. She did not hear the 
 footsteps die away. For an hour she lay 
 there, not weeping, only clutching the cush- 
 ions closer to her breast. When she raised 
 her head, tears could not have changed her 
 face more than it was changed. On the 
 other side of the divan, where Malcolm had 
 sat, she saw in the soft pillow the mark of 
 his arm. Marie rose to seize the pillow, 
 beating the mark out. From one end of 
 the little room to the other she paced 
 back and forth, moaning under her breath, 
 " What have we done ! " over and over. 
 
 A rap at the door made her start as if at 
 a pistol-shot. A boy entered, bringing a 
 piece of paper, which she tore in open- 
 ing when she saw the handwriting. The 
 paper was simply a signed order from her 
 husband to deliver the Cigarette Maker to 
 the bearer. Marie drew in her breath. 
 
 "Where do you come from ? " she asked. 
 
 " From Mr. Bollis," the boy answered, and 
 
 Marie grew whiter. She stood motionless, 
 
 staring at him until he plucked her by the 
 
 129
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 sleeve. Marie pointed to the corner where 
 the canvas stood. She watched it wrapped 
 and taken away without a word, then again 
 she flung herself down, and the tears came. 
 She had posed for this picture until her 
 body ached ; she had steadied her weary 
 voice to encourage the hand that painted ; 
 she had loved and laboured and slaved and 
 toiled, and now, to gratify the vanity of one 
 who neither toiled nor spun, it was gone. 
 
 Marie ceased weeping when there were 
 no more tears. As she turned wretchedly 
 on her couch, her hand, falling to the floor, 
 touched the envelope which Aline had 
 that day sent, and which Malcolm had 
 dropped. She shuddered, drawing back 
 from the contact. At that moment came 
 a second knock at the door. She moved 
 to rise, but sank back feebly. When the 
 knock was repeated, in answer to her weak, 
 " Enter," Aline opened the door, panting 
 and rosy with her climb up the stairs, 
 her bosom laden with pink roses. She 
 smiled over them at the other woman on 
 her couch. 
 
 " As you never come to see me, I have
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 come to you to be congratulated," she said. 
 " This is my birthday, Mrs. Severance." 
 Marie rose slowly to her feet. 
 
 " Mrs. Atwood, why have you come here ? 
 Do you want me to say that I am glad you 
 were born, when I was lying here cursing 
 that day ? " 
 
 Aline started back dismayed, her face 
 changing as if the smile had been struck 
 from her lips. 
 
 " Mrs. Severance!" she cried incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 Marie went on : 
 
 " Am I the only one who has reason to 
 do that ? Let me ask you a few questions. 
 What your history has been I know. 
 Where is the lover you threw aside ? What 
 kind of wife are you to the man you have 
 tricked into marrying you ? Was not that 
 enough, without wrecking my happiness 
 also ? " 
 
 Aline shrank yet more. " Are you speak- 
 ing of me ? " she faltered. 
 
 " Yes ; of you who are teaching my hus- 
 band to love you. Do you love him ? " 
 
 " Do I love your husband ! "
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Marie laughed contemptuously, "Why 
 do I ask ? Love ! It would be better if you 
 did. You have not blood enough to care. 
 You are a vampire, feeding on the blood of 
 others. You give nothing, and accept all. 
 Those very roses on your bosom that you 
 flaunt in my face, my husband sent to you. 
 See, you dare to blush over them ! You 
 cannot deny it." 
 
 Aline drew herself up superbly, her eyes 
 flashing. 
 
 " At last I understand you ! I should 
 have understood earlier. I do not attempt 
 to deny anything. Believe what you like, 
 whatever your imagination prompts. As for 
 your husband let him speak for himself." 
 
 She turned to the doorway, where Seve- 
 rance stood looking from one woman to the 
 other. Aline swept nearer to him. 
 
 "Mr. Severance, I do not know how 
 much you have heard. Your wife has done 
 me the honour to be jealous of me, and 
 tell me so. Be good enough to let me pass." 
 
 Malcolm Severance drew back from the 
 door, holding it open, and allowing Aline 
 to pass out. She waved him back imperi- 
 132
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 ously as he would have followed her down 
 the stairs. Malcolm returned to his room, 
 shutting the door gently after him. 
 
 "Marie," he said, his voice was unusu- 
 ally quiet, " do I understand that you have 
 ventured to insult Mrs. Atwood here?" 
 Marie's passionate, lifted face defied him. 
 
 " I have told her what I thought of her. 
 I now tell you what I think of you. Mal- 
 colm, to undersell your picture to humiliate 
 me and flatter her vanity, was " 
 
 " Take care, Marie. Once before I 
 warned you ; again you are going too far." 
 
 " I will finish. It was despicable. When 
 you did that, you went too far. I will share 
 allegiance with no woman. Follow her if 
 you will. Here is the key. Smother her 
 in flowers. You shall choose between us." 
 
 " You said all this to Mrs. Atwood ? " 
 
 " More than that I said to her." 
 
 " Marie, you are mad ! " 
 
 He snatched up his hat as he spoke. 
 Marie stood between him and the door. 
 
 "Where are you going ? " 
 
 " After her, of course. Let me go, Marie ; 
 don't touch me. You have ruined us all." 
 
 133
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 He brushed her hands from his arm, and 
 was gone, leaving her staggering. 
 
 And Aline. It had seemed to her but 
 one rush down the seven flights to her 
 home, and into her husband's study. 
 
 Mr. Atwood looked up from the book he 
 was reading, startled at her entrance. 
 
 " Aline, what has happened? " 
 
 She paused at his chair for a moment to 
 reply incoherently, her face burning : 
 
 " I have been insulted insulted as no 
 woman ever was before." 
 
 Following his wife as she paced the floor, 
 he put his arm about her, checking and 
 steadying her. 
 
 " What is it ? " he repeated. 
 
 " You warned me to expect impertinence, 
 but nothing like this." 
 
 Mr. Atwood's brow tightened, his face 
 changed. " You are safe now. Has Mc- 
 Henry " - 
 
 Aline interrupted him. " McHenry ! no. 
 I wish he had. I could have crushed him. 
 You did not warn me that women would 
 insult me. If I knew a stronger word I 
 would use it. She accused me of wrecking
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 her happiness, of oh, I can't soil my lips 
 by repeating it ! " 
 
 She hid her face. 
 
 " Go on, my child ; tell me." 
 
 " Of teaching her husband to love me." 
 
 " Who did this, Aline ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Severance." 
 
 " Marie ! Aline, look up at me and 
 speak." 
 
 " Mrs. Severance said to this face that I 
 taught her husband to love me." 
 
 " Child, are you raving ? " 
 
 " I am not. She was." 
 
 " Answer my questions as quickly as you 
 can. Did Mrs. Severance make any more 
 definite charge ? " 
 
 " None, except that her husband sent me 
 these flowers, which was true, and that I 
 was a vampire." 
 
 Mr. Atwood shook his head impatiently. 
 
 " Nothing more ? " 
 
 " No ; what worse could she have said ? " 
 
 "What she thinks, probably. A jealous 
 Frenchwoman, with her mind once poi- 
 soned, can think anything. When did you 
 last see her ? "
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Not for weeks. She has been invited 
 here over and over, but would never come. 
 She has always disliked me." 
 
 "When did you see Severance ? " 
 
 " You know. Whenever I have seen him 
 you have." 
 
 Mr. Atwood stood considering. 
 
 "As I think of it, I have been seeing 
 him perpetually. He has been lunching 
 constantly with us, too. Don't think me 
 blaming you, dear, but how has this hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 " By your invitation, chiefly." 
 
 " Yes, I remember. He has chanced in, 
 or come home with us from somewhere. 
 Has he ever been formally invited without 
 Mrs. Severance?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 "You are quite positive?" 
 
 "Absolutely. I could not have done that." 
 
 " Think well, Aline." He laid his hand 
 on her shoulder as he went on. " Remem- 
 ber, I wholly trust you ; but have you shown 
 Severance any attentions whatever that ex- 
 cluded his wife ? " 
 
 Aline flushed slightly. " I could not call 
 136
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 it that. I have sent him invitations to what 
 meant aid in his work, that is all." 
 
 "To him alone?" 
 
 " They were artistic affairs only." 
 
 "And many of those, dear?" 
 
 "All I could get. Why not ? I thought 
 you knew it. You generally got me the 
 cards." 
 
 " I don't think I quite realized it. Dear, 
 I fear I begin to understand. Severance 
 is utterly careless, and we have been so a 
 little. Did Mrs. Severance give you any 
 reason to think that Severance knew of her 
 feeling ? If so, it is he, not she, who has 
 offended us." 
 
 " If he did not know before, he knows 
 now." Mr. Atwood turned quickly. 
 
 "You have seen him since ? " 
 
 " He came in on the disgraceful scene, 
 and I myself explained it to him." 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 " He tried to follow me from the house, 
 but I ordered him back." 
 
 "To what, after following you from his 
 wife's side ! Aline, why did you not tell 
 me this at once ? You don't know Marie 
 '37
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Severance. If I can only reach there in 
 time ! " 
 
 He left his wife, to hurry out into the 
 hall, where, after a moment of hesitation, 
 Aline followed him. Mr. Atwood had al- 
 ready rung the bell for his carriage, and 
 was hunting for his hat and coat. Aline 
 came nearer to him. 
 
 " You are blaming me," she said. For 
 the first time in her life she stood before 
 him with her lips quivering, her eyes full of 
 tears, and he did not stop to comfort her. 
 He laid his hands on her shoulders, look- 
 ing into her face. 
 
 " Child," he said, " will you never wake ? 
 Don't you realize what may be at stake in 
 another home ? This is no time to balance 
 responsibilities. Stay here until I come 
 back. I may need you." 
 
 Aline moved instantly away. She re- 
 turned to the study, to sit there listening, 
 with no more tears in her eyes, no quiver 
 of her lips. She heard the hall door shut 
 and the carriage wheels roll off, but even 
 then, when there were footsteps in the hall 
 outside, she believed that her husband was 
 138
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 returning to her, until a servant entered, 
 bringing her a card. Aline took it and 
 read the name. As she did so her face 
 flushed hotly. 
 
 "Show Mr. Severance into this room," 
 she said. 
 
 When Severance entered, Aline rose to 
 receive him. He paused a moment at the 
 door to watch her standing erect and with 
 lifted head, waiting for him, not coming a 
 step forward or raising her hand. 
 
 " An unsheathed sword ! " Malcolm said 
 to himself. 
 
 He approached her with deference in 
 voice and manner. 
 
 "Mrs. Atwood, it is very good of you to 
 see me at all. I feel that I ought to be on 
 my knees before you." 
 
 " No," Aline answered resentfully ; " your 
 proper place, Mr. Severance, is on your 
 face, unless you can tell me that your wife's 
 attitude toward me was as overwhelming a 
 shock to you to-day as to myself. I saw 
 you to ask you this one question." 
 
 Severance paused ; it could not have 
 been called hesitation.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Suppose," he said quietly, " that I 
 should refuse to answer ? " 
 
 Aline breathed hard. 
 
 "Thank you," she said. "You have 
 been as direct as you have been delicate in 
 replying. Mr. Severance, how did you dare 
 to let this happen ? How did you presume 
 to allow such a suspicion of me to dwell in 
 the mind of any one for a moment, you 
 knowing it ? The bare thought is an insult 
 to me." 
 
 He answered gently, " Mrs. Atwood, I 
 think I can prove to you that nothing of the 
 kind has been intended." 
 
 "With this everything becomes inten- 
 tional. I accepted some roses from you 
 to-day. Now that I know your wife has 
 thought of them as expressing sentiment, 
 they are hateful to me. I loathe the very 
 sight of them." 
 
 She unpinned the roses from her bosom 
 and flung them into the open grate. On 
 the table near by stood a vase overflowing 
 with the same flowers. Aline glanced at 
 them, and Severance, walking deliberately 
 to the vase, caught the roses from the 
 140
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 water. He carried them to the fireplace, 
 thrusting them also into the grate, until 
 the chimney-place was a burning arbour. 
 While the flames devoured the sacrifice, 
 and rose-leaves, with ashes of roses, strewed 
 the hearth, Aline spoke again, more com- 
 posedly, yet with deeper emotion. 
 
 "When I think that you have been the 
 means of soiling by the faintest breath my 
 name and my honour, I have no forgiveness 
 for you. You have made me hear to-day 
 what scorched my ears as that fire might." 
 
 " I cannot too deeply regret it, or too 
 repentantly tell you so. But, Mrs. Atwood, 
 pray believe me, the one who so offended 
 you was thinking very little one way or the 
 other of a question of honour. She was 
 thinking only of her husband." 
 
 " But it is of my honour only that I am 
 thinking. What do I care for her or her 
 husband ? " 
 
 Severance looked up quickly from the fire 
 into Aline's face. A kind of amazement 
 overspread his features. Then he laughed. 
 
 " Mrs. Atwood, forgive me. For a mo- 
 ment I forgot myself unpardonably. You 
 141
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 are a lesson to us in that direction. Upon 
 my honour, you are, with no exception, 
 the most consistent being I ever met. I 
 beg that you will not think that I came 
 here to excuse my wife to you. I have 
 only just begun to see how excusable she 
 was." 
 
 " Do you mean me to understand that 
 you came here to defend her ? " 
 
 " I mean that her name does not belong 
 in any discussion between us." 
 
 "To this extent it does. I have the 
 right, and I do demand that you say to 
 your wife " 
 
 "Pardon me, Mrs. Atwood, you are not 
 quite ignorant of married life ; you must 
 know that between man and wife no mortal 
 being can dictate a whisper. If you care 
 to know what I mean to say to her, I will 
 tell you that I am now going to ask pardon 
 of her on my knees. But first let me say 
 this to you for myself. Never, in my re- 
 motest thoughts, have I held you as any- 
 thing but perfectly kind, perfectly cold, 
 perfectly unapproachable. I should no 
 more have dreamed of drawing nearer to 
 142
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 you than would any other frail craft towards 
 an iceberg." 
 
 Aline bowed her head proudly. 
 
 "This, Mr. Severance, is just what I 
 wished you to say to your wife when you 
 stopped my speaking." 
 
 " Did you wish me to say it for her sake, 
 or for yours ? You need not answer me, 
 Mrs. Atwood. I thought I knew you. You 
 had depths my plumb-line did not reach, 
 and so you have been good enough to show 
 them to me. This, I suppose, is farewell ? " 
 
 Malcolm walked out of the Atwood house 
 toward his own home. He shrugged his 
 shoulders as he turned his back. 
 
 "So much," he said to himself, "for 
 swimming with brass pots. Yet I am not 
 sure as to which of us broke the other. Now 
 for Marie ! " 
 
 In his heart he a little dreaded that meet- 
 ing ; but as he went on a strange desire grew 
 within him to see her. The squares had 
 never seemed so long nor the seven flights 
 so high. When he opened his door it was 
 with a comforting realisation that it led into 
 his home. 
 
 '43
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Marie ! " he called gently as he entered, 
 but there was no answer, and, though he 
 could not tell why, the room seemed to him 
 in confusion. Marie was almost too neat, 
 as he often told her. He went back into 
 the bedroom and to the little kitchen, to find 
 only the same confusion, the same conspic- 
 uous absence. Marie was gone. 
 
 " To buy supper ; " he said to himself. 
 " Yes, for supper," but he did not believe 
 it. He was wandering through the rooms, 
 and, though he did not confess it, was every- 
 where looking for something which he found 
 on his easel, a letter from Marie, ad- 
 dressed to himself. For a moment he could 
 not open it, then was not able to break the 
 seal as fast as he would. Something hard 
 fell into his hand. It was the wretched 
 key. Malcolm flung it from him. He 
 dragged out of the envelope a bit of writ- 
 ing, only two lines ; 
 
 " You have chosen, and left me no choice but 
 this. O dearest, did I not love" The 
 rest was a blur. 
 
 To Malcolm Severance it seemed that 
 the heart in his body ceased to beat ; his 
 144
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 head swam, his knees were water as he read. 
 He knew his wife, and, not as a woman of 
 idle threats. In that moment the past re- 
 proached and the future darkened, until the 
 room circled about him, and he fell on the 
 divan where Marie had lain taking her 
 hour of agony alone, the paper crushed in 
 his hand. 
 
 The words upon the paper had been writ- 
 ten by Marie's fingers not five minutes after 
 Malcolm brushed them from his arm. When 
 he left her staggering from his rude repulse, 
 her resolution was taken while his footsteps 
 were yet on the stair. She had to cling to 
 the table for support with one hand, but 
 with the other she was fitting the key into 
 the lock of the drawer. Her small purse, 
 containing only what was justly hers, lay 
 there. Beside it lay the leather bag of 
 money, and in another corner a box of dried 
 orange blossoms, still fragrant, a pair of 
 white gloves, a white favour, and Marie 
 caught up the little purse quickly, shutting 
 and locking the drawer. She sat down by 
 the table to enclose the key in an envelope, 
 which she addressed to her husband. Then 
 
 MS
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 for a moment she hesitated, her pen poised 
 over the paper she drew toward her. The 
 first line was written deliberately, each word 
 weighed ; the next was begun before she 
 knew, and when the knowledge came she 
 flung the pen aside, yet would not begin 
 again. Blotting the words as they were, 
 she enclosed them with the key. This done, 
 she walked steadily through the room, pick- 
 ing up here and there some little personal 
 possessions, which she carried to her bed- 
 room. When she returned once more to 
 the studio, she was dressed for the street 
 and had with her a satchel. As she crossed 
 the floor of the studio, Marie did not lift 
 her eyes. They should take no last look. 
 She would gladly have given her hearing 
 to miss the sound of the closing door. It 
 seemed to shut on her heart. There was 
 no reason in the world why she, Marie Sev- 
 erance, should not walk down the stairs with 
 a satchel in her hand, yet she crept softly, 
 like a criminal. She had come down six 
 flights, meeting no one. There was but one 
 more to descend ; at that last landing she 
 looked up to see Mr. Atwood standing at 
 146
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 the head of the stair, one hand on the rail- 
 ing, the other against the wall. His swift 
 glance swept her from head to foot, noting 
 each detail, then fastened gravely upon her 
 face. 
 
 " Where are you going, Mrs. Severance ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Marie recovered herself, and tried to re- 
 ply lightly, attempting too late to hold her 
 gown between him and the satchel. 
 
 " Not to confession to-day, Mr. Atwood." 
 
 His face grew more serious. " To-mor- 
 row, then ? Why not tell me now what all 
 your world will know by that time ? Mrs. 
 Severance, I know you are taking a grave 
 step, and you are taking it on a supposition 
 absolutely mistaken." 
 
 Marie dropped her gown. " Mr. Atwood, 
 let me pass," she said, facing him. 
 
 "One moment only, Mrs. Severance. 
 Will you believe my solemn assurance " 
 
 " No ; who has solemnly assured you ? 
 She denied nothing to me. Let me pass ; 
 you have no right to detain me." 
 
 " I do not mean to do so ; but where are 
 you going ? "
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Away from here." 
 
 " You have already made your arrange- 
 ments ? " 
 
 " I can when you let me pass." 
 
 " Do you know where you are going ? " 
 
 " I neither know nor care." 
 
 "Then let me do both. You do not 
 realise how late and how dark it is. You 
 will not find respectable houses ready to 
 take in a woman who comes as unpro- 
 tectedly as you intend to apply. My car- 
 riage is at the door. I will drive to a place 
 I know of, and establish you there. By the 
 morning you will have had time to think 
 and make your plans. I tell you frankly, 
 on any other condition I dare not let you 
 out of my sight." 
 
 He saw her hesitate, and pressed her. 
 
 "You can surely trust me, your oldest 
 friend here, so far." 
 
 She looked at him pitifully. 
 
 " Oh, yes, for yourself ; but can I trust 
 you not to tell my my husband where I 
 am ? " 
 
 " I will not tell him." 
 
 " Not even that you met me ? " 
 148
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Not even that I met you." 
 
 "Then I will go with you. Only take 
 me now. He may come at any moment." 
 
 Once in the carriage, Mr. Atwood did 
 not speak to her ; they drove on in silence. 
 He had given instructions to the coach- 
 man before they set out, and the carriage 
 stopped at last in the middle of a block of 
 houses. Mr. Atwood stepped out quickly, 
 pausing a moment at the curb to speak to 
 Marie. 
 
 " I had better make the arrangements for 
 you," he said ; " it may take a little time- 
 Will you wait for me here ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered. 
 
 He closed the door, hurrying away, but 
 not to any of the houses in the block. 
 Turning back of the carriage, he walked 
 rapidly to the street corner, down another 
 avenue, and with the same quick pace to 
 the square where his own house stood. 
 
 Aline was sitting in her room alone when 
 he entered, seeking her. She neither rose 
 nor turned at his step. Mr. Atwood came 
 behind her chair. Resting his hand on its 
 back, he bent over his wife. 
 149
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Aline," he said gently, " I want you to 
 prepare yourself for something very diffi- 
 cult, but equally imperative, which I have 
 for you to do. My child, I found matters 
 worse than I had feared at the Severances' 
 home. I have come for you as the only be- 
 ing who can set them straight. I want you 
 to go to Mrs. Severance with me at once." 
 
 Aline turned to him, her hands grasping 
 the arm of her chair. 
 
 " You want me to go to Mrs. Severance ! 
 I never shall speak to either of them again ! 
 Her husband has been here since you 
 left." 
 
 " Severance ! What was he here for ? " 
 
 " To call me an iceberg, apparently. 
 Vampire and iceberg ! I don't think I feel 
 called upon to trouble myself with the Sev- 
 erance family." 
 
 "I am afraid you will have to see Mrs. 
 Severance, Aline. She tells me you denied 
 nothing to her to-day." 
 
 " I did not ; why should I condescend to 
 denial ? I had nothing to deny. Are you 
 too coming to accuse me ? " her voice 
 faltered. 
 
 150
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Mr. Atwood walked over to the writing- 
 table, and opened Aline's stamp-box. 
 
 " Is this here still ? " he said. " Yes, it is.'" 
 He took from its white cotton nest the 
 little withered seed. Aline, watching him, 
 flushed and bit her lip. 
 
 "You cannot think I kept that for the 
 sake of Mr. Severance ! " she cried. 
 
 " No," he answered ; " I don't know just 
 why you kept it, but I do know that your 
 actual wrong-doing in this matter is only 
 about as large as this foolish little thing, 
 and that your feeling for Severance himself 
 never amounted to that size." 
 
 He flicked the seed away as he spoke. 
 " You found him peculiarly acceptable to 
 you for one reason or another, and so 
 have reached out your hand and taken him, 
 thoughtless of anything but your own pleas- 
 ure. I have allowed it because well, be- 
 cause I have always been blind with you in 
 question. The fruit has been inadequately 
 large. I realise all that, but the seed is of 
 your sowing. We have done wrong, and we 
 must undo it. Aline, you will be shocked 
 to learn what I have to tell you. I found
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Mrs. Severance on her way from her hus- 
 band's home. I have induced her to trust 
 herself to me. She is in my carriage now, 
 waiting out in the street. She thinks I am 
 looking for a refuge for her. I am looking 
 for you as the one being who can induce 
 her to return to her home." 
 
 Aline with difficulty controlled her voice. 
 Her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " And you, my own husband, take part 
 against me ; you ask me to abase myself to 
 a woman who has said to me what she has 
 said who has been the cause of your 
 speaking to me as I did not know you 
 could speak," she ended brokenly. 
 
 " My wife, I am not taking part against 
 you. If I could do this for you, you know 
 I would, but you alone can act here, and it 
 must be quickly done. My plan is to put 
 you in the carriage with Mrs. Severance. 
 I will sit on the box myself. I cannot tell 
 you what to say to her. You will know how 
 to act. I will drive slowly toward the Sever- 
 ances' house, and when you wish me to stop 
 there, ring the bell. My child, I know this 
 is hard for you, but it cannot be avoided." 
 152
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline drew herself back in her chair. 
 Her voice was hard and steady. 
 
 " You need not be sorry for me ; I am 
 not going." 
 
 " Then you do not yet realise what it 
 means if Severance comes home to find his 
 wife gone. She must be there when he re- 
 turns." 
 
 " Some one else can take her. I shall 
 not. She has brought all this on herself. 
 I have done nothing, absolutely nothing, 
 that I regret or will condescend to explain." 
 
 As Mr. Atwood looked down into his 
 wife's flushed face, his own grew deeply 
 troubled. He glanced up at the clock. 
 
 " Aline, what can I say to you ? There 
 is so little time." He hesitated for a 
 moment, then spoke quickly. " Look at 
 this from all sides. If it once becomes an 
 open scandal, you will be pointed out, how- 
 ever unjustly, as the woman who broke up 
 that home." 
 
 Aline started to her feet. 
 
 " Oh, this humiliates me* beyond any 
 bearing. I, who have never stepped an 
 inch aside, to have this come to me ! "
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 She sank back in her chair again, hiding 
 her face. Suddenly her hands fell. She 
 lifted her head. 
 
 " Why should I feel it so ? I have done 
 nothing. No, and I will do nothing now. 
 Let her go, if she will, and where she will. 
 As for me, they can say what they like ; my 
 name will sustain it." 
 
 " Aline, consider a moment. Think what 
 you say. You do not mean that." 
 
 " I have thought." 
 
 " You mean me to understand that as 
 you are safe, you will not lift your finger to 
 save the woman you have wronged, how- 
 ever unthinkingly ? " 
 
 " I do mean that." 
 
 She did not know the deliberate voice in 
 which he answered her. 
 
 " You are perfectly right in saying that 
 no one could accuse you of imprudence. 
 I used a subterfuge to touch your selfish 
 fears. I am ashamed that I have resorted 
 to such an appeal, even in extremity. Once 
 you wondered why I was not too glad to be 
 so sure of your coldness. Now perhaps 
 you can see. Your pet sin allows no room
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 for other sins. Like Aaron's serpent, it de- 
 stroys all the rest. I do not ask you now 
 to come with me for your sake ; you know 
 perfectly well that you will not suffer to 
 any extent. I do not ask you to come for 
 the sake of that poor woman waiting out 
 there in the street. I command you to 
 come with me simply because I desire it. 
 If you have not a woman's heart in your 
 body, you have a woman's wit in your brain. 
 Use it. Mrs. Severance is to be taken 
 back to her home by you, if we have to 
 drive about this city all night to accomplish 
 it. Understand that this is absolute. Get 
 your hood and cloak. There is no time to 
 lose." 
 
 Aline sat motionless, her breath sus- 
 pended, her eyes wide, and fixed on her 
 husband's face. His eyes softened as he 
 looked at her. 
 
 " Aline," he cried, holding out his hands, 
 " can your body only be so lovely ? Come 
 with me, dear, of yourself." 
 
 Her lip trembled with a sob, but she did 
 not move. Mr. Atwood's hands fell. He 
 turned away, walking to a door at the end
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 of the room, which he opened. Aline's 
 maid sat outside sewing. 
 
 " Mrs. Atwood's cloak and hood," Mr. 
 Atwood said to her shortly. He glanced 
 back at Aline, then spoke in his usual 
 tones. 
 
 " You have slippers on. You will have 
 some distance to walk. Bring me the 
 carriage shoes also. I will take them 
 myself." 
 
 He took the wrappings the maid handed 
 in to him, and closed the door. Aline sat 
 like a statue. Her husband knelt before 
 her, and drew on her shoes. 
 
 " Come," he said, standing to hold the 
 cloak for her. 
 
 Aline lifted her eyes with one quick 
 glance into his face. 
 
 "Come, Aline," he repeated, and she 
 rose, trembling from head to foot. Mr. 
 Atwood wrapped the cloak about her. As 
 he did so, for one moment he held her in 
 his arms. 
 
 " Child," he said, " why will you make 
 me so harsh to you ? Must you be broken 
 in pieces to find your heart ? ' : 
 156
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 He led her to the door. Aline followed 
 him down the stairs, still speechless. Once 
 she paused, as if to regain her breath, but, 
 as he turned back toward her, she went on 
 again, following him silently as before. 
 They went out into the street, and to the 
 square, where the carriage waited. Just 
 before they reached its door Mr. Atwood 
 paused to look down into his wife's face by 
 the light from a street lamp standing above 
 them. As they left the house he had drawn 
 her passive hand through his arm, now he 
 laid his hand gently over hers. 
 
 " Remember," he said, " I shall be close 
 by you in thought. Does your courage 
 fail, Aline ? " 
 
 Her voice was as wretched as her face. 
 
 " It was not lack of courage that kept 
 me away. You know it is my fear only 
 that brings me here." 
 
 " Of what are you afraid ? " 
 
 " Of you. You cannot realise what things 
 you have said to me if you ask that." 
 
 Her voice broke. Mr. Atwood bent 
 toward her quickly, then drew back. 
 
 " Yes," he answered quietly, " I do real-
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 ise all that I said. I meant it all then and 
 now." 
 
 Aline drew a shivering breath. 
 
 " What can help me then ! Why was there 
 not some one to save me ? You seemed to 
 care for me. Why did you let me marry 
 you ? " 
 
 Mr. Atwood laid his other hand on his 
 wife's shoulder, turning her face to him. 
 
 " You regret your marriage with me, 
 Aline ? " 
 
 She looked up desperately without reply. 
 
 " Answer me truly," he said solemnly. 
 " It is too late to go back now." 
 
 " I regret it bitterly bitterly ! " she 
 broke out, " if you will know. Now, what 
 can you do ? " 
 
 " I can thank God," he answered gravely. 
 " Aline, we must speak of this later. There 
 are others to think of now. Let us do what 
 we can for them first, and afterward what 
 we can for ourselves." 
 
 He moved to the carriage door, and 
 opened it. As Mrs. Severance bent for- 
 ward with an anxious question on her lips, 
 he replied only by lifting Aline to the seat 
 158
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 beside her, and closing the door on the 
 two women. The next moment the carriage 
 was in motion. Marie sat upright in her 
 place, too amazed to speak ; but, as the first 
 flash of light from the street showed her the 
 face of her companion, making one spring 
 for the carriage door, she would have flung 
 herself into the street, had not Aline caught 
 her strongly by both wrists. 
 
 " Mrs. Severance," she said coldly, " you 
 will kill yourself. My husband tells me 
 that you have left your home through my 
 fault, and he wishes me to explain to you 
 what I refused to enter into this afternoon. 
 Your husband has never seen me except in 
 my husband's presence or that of others. 
 There has not been a thought harboured, or 
 a word spoken that you could have objected 
 to. I feel that these details are as unne- 
 cessary as they are humiliating. Do you 
 wish further vindication of my honour, or 
 does this satisfy you ? " 
 
 Marie turned on her furiously. 
 
 " Why should this satisfy me ? Why 
 should I believe you ? Would you accept 
 the testimony of one of those poor souls out
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 there in the street whom we scarcely name 
 sisters ? To me such women as you are 
 worse than they. What honour you possessed 
 you sold with your disgraceful marriage." 
 
 Aline's grasp on Marie's arm loosened ; 
 she drew back. 
 
 " This is the second time to-day, Mrs. 
 Severance, that you have alluded to my 
 marriage in this manner. I am obliged 
 to speak to you of your affairs, but not to 
 submit to this." 
 
 " So there is something that touches you ! 
 I know nothing about your marriage except 
 what all the world knows, that you sold 
 yourself for a stated sum, like any other 
 bought girl. I would rather be some poor 
 homeless soul throwing herself away for 
 love than do what you have done. If you 
 had known what a home was, you would 
 have held mine sacred, you would have re- 
 spected my marriage, where the smallest 
 wedge of division is like the agony of tear- 
 ing flesh from flesh. What do you know of 
 wifehood, of a husband " 
 
 Aline was drawing deep breaths. She 
 broke in passionately : 
 1 60
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Stop, Mrs. Severance ! I will not permit 
 discussion of my marriage and my husband 
 any more than your husband permitted my 
 speaking of his marriage and his wife." 
 
 Marie started. 
 
 " Malcolm did that ? But it was you he 
 followed.,' 
 
 Aline hesitated. " Mrs. Severance," she 
 said, " understand that in speaking further 
 to you I am but my husband's mouthpiece. 
 Your husband followed me apparently to 
 say that his opinion of me was but little 
 less contemptible than your own. Perhaps 
 this will satisfy you. He left me to seek 
 you and ask your pardon." 
 
 " To ask my pardon ! No, this is but 
 another trick. Even Mr. Atwood has de- 
 ceived me to-night. I can trust no one." 
 
 "He went to ask your pardon on his 
 knees, he said. I can only tell you these 
 things, Mrs. Severance. I cannot make 
 you believe me. My husband was very 
 anxious that Mr. Severance should not find 
 you gone when he reached home. If you 
 consent to return at once, we may reach 
 there before him." 
 
 161
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Marie wrung her hands. 
 
 " He has gone to ask my pardon, and will 
 only find my letter ! What will he do ? 
 Mrs. Atwood, let me get out. Let me go 
 to him. How could I dare to leave my 
 home ? " 
 
 Aline leaned forward and touched the 
 carriage bell. 
 
 " He may not be there yet," she said with 
 cold reassurance. " We may reach the 
 house before him, as we are driving. We 
 shall be moving rapidly now ; for that bell 
 was the signal to take you home." 
 
 Marie heard the words, not the tone. 
 She grasped Aline's hands gratefully in 
 hers. 
 
 " How kind you are to me ! I have been 
 unjust to you. Perhaps I have misunder- 
 stood everything. I have been crazy, I 
 think. Have I said terrible things to you ? 
 I can't remember what I have said." 
 
 Aline drew her hands away. 
 
 " It is not necessary that both of us 
 should remember, Mrs. Severance. This 
 is your house, I think. Yes, here is my 
 husband at the carriage door." 
 162
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Marie almost fell from the carriage into 
 Mr. Atwood's arms." She clung to him 
 appealingly. 
 
 " Has he come ? " 
 
 " I don't know, my child," he an- 
 swered. " Do you take her up the stairs, 
 Aline." 
 
 The two women wound up the stairs 
 together, Marie pausing continually and 
 clinging to the railing as she listened for 
 any sound. When she reached her door 
 she stretched out her hand towards the 
 lock, then drew back. 
 
 " I cannot ! " she whispered piteously. 
 
 Aline laid her hand firmly on the lock, 
 and opened the door. Marie gave one 
 glance into the room and at the divan where 
 Malcolm lay. Her letter had just fallen 
 from his hand to the floor ; he was feeling 
 for it without raising his head. 
 
 Marie darted across the room, sweeping 
 the paper away as she dropped on her 
 knees at his side. 
 
 " Malcolm ! " she cried. 
 
 From the threshold of the room Aline 
 saw him lift his face. She saw its white 
 163
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 wretchedness break into a flushed ecstasy 
 as he opened his arms'; and turning away, 
 she closed the door behind her. At the 
 foot of the stairs Mr. Atwood was waiting 
 for her. 
 
 " Well ? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 His wife answered him gravely : 
 
 " I left them together." 
 
 " Really together, Aline ? " 
 
 " Yes ; you may be satisfied." 
 
 He glanced at her and said no more, even 
 when they sat alone in the carriage. Aline 
 leaned back in its depths. He felt rather 
 than saw that her face was buried in her 
 hands. It was she who led the way to his 
 study when they returned to their home, 
 and when Mr. Atwood followed her, she 
 was standing by the fireplace where the 
 roses had been destroyed looking down at 
 the bits of charred stalks and rose-leaves 
 that still strewed the hearth. Mr. Atwood 
 braced himself to approach her. 
 
 "Aline," he said gently, " of what are you 
 thinking ? " 
 
 She looked up to reply slowly : 
 
 " I was thinking that twenty-two is very 
 164
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 young to die. The epitaph would say, ' Cut 
 down in the flower of her youth.' I had 
 rather have that written over me than stand 
 as I do now, a bare stalk, bud and flowers 
 gone at twenty-two." She went on bitterly, 
 " What have I to look forward to ? Mrs. 
 Severance called me worse than homeless. 
 She was right. I am worse than that. 
 Were I really without a roof over my head, 
 some one might take me in, and, in pity, 
 care for me. As it is, I must live on here 
 with no one in the world caring for me. I 
 cannot even remember my father or mother. 
 You were the only being who was anything 
 on earth to me, until you became my hus- 
 band, who does not love me." 
 
 Mr. Atwood replied gravely, " You did 
 not finish. You must add, 'and whom I 
 do not love.' " 
 
 " I did love you." 
 
 " As your guardian, yes ; as your hus- 
 band, no. My position toward you has 
 grown more nebulous daily since our mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " Why did you ever change it ? We were 
 happy together as ward and guardian." 
 165
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 "Why did I change it? Look back a 
 moment and see. Did you find McHenvy 
 delicate when he saw you the wife of a man 
 he knew you did not love ? As his wife, 
 when he found you did not love him, but 
 what was his, and he would have dis- 
 covered it, how would you have fared 
 in his hands ? " 
 
 Aline turned away. " Yes, I remember. 
 You married me to save me from him. I 
 alone am to blame that my life is over at 
 twenty-two. It is suicide, not murder ; but 
 that does not make it easier." 
 
 Mr. Atwood drew nearer to her. 
 
 " Aline," he said, " why is to-day different 
 from a year ago ? " 
 
 He paused, but she made no answer, and 
 he lifted his hand to lay it on her shoulder. 
 " Then you told me that you had no heart. 
 Have you found that you were mistaken ? " 
 
 She shrank from both words and touch. 
 
 " No, I was not mistaken. I know my- 
 self." 
 
 " Then, why do you suffer ? " 
 
 She looked up at him quickly, catching 
 her breath. Her hands covered her face. 
 1 66
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " It is not that," she sobbed ; "I am 
 wretched, but it is not that." 
 
 Mr. Atwood's hand dropped from her 
 shoulder to her side. 
 
 " What is it that I feel throbbing here ? " 
 he said softly. " Aline, do you know what 
 you and I have to face to-night ? An out- 
 raged womanhood has waked and is wring- 
 ing your heart. She is demanding of us 
 her birthright, that we have sold for a mess 
 of pottage." 
 
 Aline shuddered in his arms as he 
 wrapped them about her. She hid her 
 face in his breast with a motion of terror. 
 Her husband laid his hand softly on her 
 hair, drawing her nearer. 
 
 " What is it, dear ? " he asked ; " what 
 frightens you ? You are not afraid of me 
 now ? " 
 
 She clung close to him. 
 
 " No ; you are my guardian again." 
 
 " Am I, Aline ? Are you so sure that you 
 know me ? Did you know this woman I hold 
 in my arms to-night ? Dear, listen to me 
 for a moment. Can you fancy me a stran- 
 ger, neither the husband nor the guardian, 
 167
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 you have thought you knew so well, yet 
 holding you thus in my arms, resting here 
 on my heart, my face against your face, my 
 lips close to your ear, whispering, ' Why do 
 you live this life ? Is your husband loving ? 
 Is your home a home ? Let me take -you 
 away. I love you as a woman needs to be 
 loved. I love you as a man loves the one 
 woman he wants for his wife. Can you 
 send me from you to keep up the wretched 
 farce you are living ? Come away with me 
 now, this hour, and learn what life and 
 loving are.' ' : 
 
 Aline struggled from his arms. 
 
 "What are you saying?" she cried help- 
 lessly. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 He caught her two hands, drawing her back. 
 
 " Answer me now," he said, " weighing 
 nothing except that you are my wife, and 
 that another man has said this to you. Do 
 these words tempt you ? They offer nothing 
 but love. Answer them to me if you can." 
 
 She looked up at him, trembling. 
 
 " I can answer. I am tempted. I could 
 say yes and go gladly, but I would say no. 
 Why have you taught me this ? Why have 
 1 68
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 you showed me what I might never have 
 learned ? " 
 
 She turned away again, and he let her 
 leave him. 
 
 " Yet you have told me a thousand times 
 that you were too cold to listen to any 
 man's love. Aline, what tempted you in 
 those words ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I could not tell you, except that they 
 tempted. I want that love, I suppose, 
 even if I have no heart. Why do you 
 make me say these things too late ? " 
 
 " You have already said more than that. 
 You have told me to-night that you bitterly 
 regretted our marriage." 
 
 " That, too, you forced from me. I 
 could have kept it secret. Because I have 
 ruined my life, need yours be wrecked ? " 
 
 He had drawn nearer to her, and before 
 she ended had taken her again into his 
 arms. He spoke rapidly, with emotion : 
 
 "Child, you flung me the first plank to 
 
 cling to ! Aline, look into my face. Why 
 
 are you so sure that you know me ? Look 
 
 up, dear ; look at me. Am I to you what 
 
 169
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 your husband should be ? God knows I 
 have tried to be, but I am not. Long 
 before the law released me I was not your 
 guardian in feeling. What am I toward 
 you, dear ? Who is it that is holding you 
 in his arms, resting here on his heart, his 
 face against your face, telling you that he 
 loves you as a woman needs to be loved, 
 as he loves the one woman he wants for 
 his wife ? " 
 
 Aline lifted her head, gazing with pas- 
 sionate reproach into her husband's face. 
 
 " Stop ! " she cried ; " how can you ? 
 You are cruel to mock me." 
 
 He laid his hand tenderly over her eyes, 
 then stooped to kiss the closed lids. 
 
 "Be opened ! " he said ; " my beloved, it 
 is your lover who wakes you. I have loved 
 you with a man's love since the day you 
 were old enough to take my heart from me. 
 I had loved you for years when I married 
 you. Look up again, dear, and believe 
 me." 
 
 Aline looked up. Her eyes met his. 
 " You loved me like this ! " she cried. Her 
 face was quivering. " You loved me then ? 
 
 170
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Oh, why did you marry me ? Why did you 
 not wait to woo and win me as other women 
 are won ? " 
 
 " Dear, was this woman here for me to 
 woo ? Aline, you have not been as a wife 
 to me. I have not been as your husband. 
 Did I ever deceive you ? You shall be 
 wooed as no woman ever was wooed before. 
 Let us leave this man who has been worse 
 than no husband, and the woman who was 
 less than a wife, here in this house that has 
 been no home, while you and I run away 
 together, your lover with the woman he 
 loves. Can you send from you this man 
 who holds you in his arms to keep up the 
 wretched farce we were living ? Come 
 away with me this very night, away from 
 this place and these people for a time, to 
 learn what life and loving are. Love, how 
 you tremble ! Am I taking my hour-born 
 woman too far and too fast ? " 
 
 She raised her face bathed in tears, and 
 held out her hands to him blindly. Mr. 
 Atwood grasped them both strongly in one 
 of his ; his arm still about her, he led her 
 to the door. 
 
 171
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Aline," he said, as he laid his hand on 
 the lock, " you must* yourself decide. Will 
 you go or stay ? I do not urge you. Re- 
 member, it is from the tried into the uncer- 
 tain. I have turned the hasp ; the door will 
 stay closed forever, or open at a touch of 
 your hand, if you wish it to open." 
 
 With a swift motion Aline stretched out 
 her hand. 
 
 They passed from the room together, 
 closing the door behind them. 
 
 172
 
 LINK V. 
 MR. ATWOOD'S WIFE. 
 
 The clasped 
 
 links.
 
 LINK V. 
 
 MR. ATWOOD'S WIFE. 
 
 THE Superintendent made his way to the 
 top of the hall, and turned on both gas- 
 jets, until the light flared up to its highest 
 power. 
 
 " Now, you hear me, boys," he said, 
 standing with his hand still on the burner, 
 and looking down the room, " I ain't no 
 millionaire, and gas costs. You don't need 
 to see for sleeping. Here I find you've 
 been burning these lights on full all night. 
 The bill came in as long as a list of your 
 sins. I won't stand it. I'll have the meter 
 taken out of the building first. Then you 
 will be having to spread up your beds and 
 make your twilets in the dark." 
 
 His audience replied by a general move- 
 ment and a murmur, part growl, part speech, 
 like nothing human. 
 
 Their beds ! their toilets !
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " I can't offer you more than the soft 
 side of a pine board and the next man's 
 leg for a pillow. That you can have for 
 the asking, but no more," the Superintend- 
 ent went on. 
 
 He spoke to those who had asked and 
 received. As if a rush of undertow from 
 the city outside had swept into the hall, 
 casting on its floor the dregs of life, a waste 
 of humanity stretched from wall to wall at 
 the Superintendent's feet. That the hall 
 had other uses was proven by the benches 
 heaped upon a platform at the head of the 
 room. Where these benches had stood, 
 that which was created to be the highest 
 form of life, lay huddled together, ragged, 
 repulsive, unclean within and without. Yet 
 in a common degradation, a certain in- 
 dividuality asserted itself. The more en- 
 terprising had secured the choice places, 
 and lay in a circle about the walls on care- 
 fully spread newspapers, which lifted them 
 that shaving above those wallowing con- 
 tentedly on the bare boards. The sleepy 
 heads that were reared to listen as the 
 Superintendent spoke, bore each its own 
 176
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 particular expression of fallen manhood. 
 Of the many who slept heavily through all, 
 the Superintendent noted one figure lying 
 in a motionless half-circle about his feet. 
 The prostrate body was curved as a wearied 
 animal's dropping into unconsciousness 
 where it chanced to fall. The relaxed 
 muscles which in a child would have be- 
 tokened natural sleep told of unnatural 
 slumber in the man. His arm, stretched 
 out straight above his head, pillowed his 
 white face. The gaslight, shining full on 
 his closed lids, seemed to distress him ; for 
 his lips moved, and he turned so restlessly 
 that his head dropped on the Superinten- 
 dent's boot. Stooping, the Superintendent 
 slipped his hand under the mass of light 
 hair, lifting the white face back to the 
 arm from which it fell. As he did so the 
 cleanliness of both hair and flesh struck 
 him. He looked more closely into the ex- 
 posed features : what he saw made him 
 draw in his lower lip, shaking his head pro- 
 testingly. When he rose and glanced once 
 more over the hall, before shutting off the 
 light, its aspect seemed to strike him anew. 
 177
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Good God ! " he muttered, " and folks 
 thank thee when a man-child is born into 
 this world ! " 
 
 A tiny star of blue flame from a gas-jet 
 near the door alone burned through the 
 long winter night. It shone more and 
 more blue as the morning light came cold 
 and shivering through the dusty panes into 
 the room, and was fairly extinguished by 
 the first ray of sunshine. 
 
 As the uncurtained windows lit up one 
 by one, so one by one the occupants or the 
 hall rose to follow their various habits of 
 life. Those who had chosen to make their 
 coats into pillows, made their pillows 'into 
 coats. With surprising deftness, born of 
 long practice, they combed their hair with 
 their fingers, pulled on their hats, and de- 
 parted. The neater element on the news- 
 paper beds, to whom water meant more 
 than a poor apology for stronger drink, 
 sought the lavatory opened for their use, 
 then went their way also. 
 
 The Superintendent, standing at the hall 
 door, watched the dispersing crowd until 
 the place was empty save for one figure, 
 178
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 lying in the same exhausted half-circle 
 which had curled about his feet the night 
 before. He crossed the room, and laid his 
 hand on the man's shoulder. 
 
 " Come," he said, " it's time for you to 
 go to work if you have any, and to look for 
 it if you haven't." 
 
 He shook the shoulder in his hand as he 
 spoke. The man's head rolled to the floor 
 heavily, yet he did not rouse. His breath- 
 ing was slow and regular. The upturned 
 face showed whiter in the daylight than 
 when the gaslight had touched it. The 
 Superintendent, bending again to examine 
 him closely, saw that the soil on his cloth- 
 ing was fresh, not ground in as a part of 
 the cloth, which seemed, as did the wearer, 
 of another quality than what ordinarily 
 found its way to this floor. 
 
 " Pshaw, pshaw, pshaw ! " muttered the 
 Superintendent, not impatiently, but as 
 one to whom the worst side of the day's 
 work presents itself first. He pressed 
 his thumb against the under lid of the 
 man's eye, thrusting the upper lid back, 
 until the dark pupil was exposed to his 
 179
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 sight. Then raising his head, he called 
 loudly : 
 
 " You Joseph, come up here ! " 
 The man who responded to his call, hur- 
 rying through the hall door, was in full ac- 
 cord with his surroundings. His gait was 
 a shuffle, his parchment skin appeared too 
 tight for the bones it covered, and the hair 
 on his head and upper lip had the appear- 
 ance of being artificially introduced there. 
 His weak and restless eyes settled with dis- 
 proportionate anxiety on the Superinten- 
 dent's face. By his side trotted a large 
 cat, belled and beribboned. An immaculate 
 fur and imperious bearing were witness to 
 his physical condition. He was the only 
 high liver on the premises. As his eye fell 
 on the animal, the Superintendent broke 
 into a laugh of pleasure. The sound ended 
 in a queer little crow, as contagious as the 
 laugh of a child. He caught the cat in his 
 arms, rubbing his face against its cold nose 
 as he talked. 
 
 " Ain't you 'shamed o' yourself ? Ain't 
 you 'shamed, Waif ? Out all night like 
 this. You keep on with these ways, and 
 180
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 your grandpa's goin' to whack you some 
 day. I got a good mind to make you sleep 
 in here with the boys to-night. You want 
 to do that ? No siree ! Want to sleep 
 with me, do you ? Yes, sir. Then you got 
 to behave yourself. I'll have you lying 
 here like this fellow some morning, if you 
 don't brace up. What do you think of him, 
 Joseph ? " 
 
 Joseph bent timidly over the corpse-like 
 body. 
 
 " He looks for all the world like my poor 
 brother the mornin' after he died o' con- 
 sumption," Joseph ventured. 
 
 The Superintendent laughed crowingly 
 again as he set the cat down. 
 
 " Consumption ! " he retorted ; " con- 
 sumption o' liquor is what he's got. Here, 
 Joseph, you heft his feet, and I'll take his 
 head. Waif, you can follow with the 
 pieces." 
 
 Joseph gathered the heavy feet into his 
 hands. The boots which covered them 
 had been patent leather. They were now 
 cracked and rubbed. 
 
 " It's bitter cold," Joseph remonstrated. 
 181
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " You'll kill him sure, if you put him out 
 in the street." 
 
 The Superintendent lifted the man's 
 body easily in his strong arms, settling 
 the rolling head against his breast. 
 
 " Move on," he answered ; " I'll put him 
 where he belongs. It's a Lord's mercy the 
 mothers that bear men haven't no foresight, 
 nor hindsight neither. Come along ! " 
 
 The two men passed out from the door, 
 carrying between them their living burden, 
 beneath which the cat walked with the 
 severe dignity of a trained coach dog. 
 
 It was late in the day when the sleeper 
 woke, and then he aroused from dreaming 
 to full consciousness in terror. The bed 
 where he lay was strange to him ; the room, 
 with its cracked walls and grimy ceiling 
 was strange also. Strangest of all, were 
 the searching eyes into which his opened. 
 They impelled a truthful reply to the ques- 
 tion which a voice asked him : 
 
 " What's your name ? ' ' 
 
 "Archibald Bracken," he answered; and, 
 at the sound of his own words, woke wholly. 
 He saw that he was lying on a rough bed 
 182
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 in a rough room, where stood three or four 
 more beds of a like kind. The only ac- 
 companying furniture was a table with sev- 
 eral pitchers and basins upon it. A cheap 
 mirror hung against the wall above them. 
 By the bedstead stood a middle-aged man 
 of low stature but strong build. A great 
 cat lay half on his shoulder, half in his 
 arm, and he kept stroking it with his hand. 
 
 " Do you know where I am ? " Archibald 
 Bracken asked of him. 
 
 " Do I know where you are ! " repeated 
 the man by the bed with a crowing laugh. 
 His wide-open blue eyes twinkled. " Well, 
 yes, as you're on my bed." 
 
 " Where was I last night ? " 
 
 " Can't you remember ? " 
 
 Bracken closed his eyelids suddenly, with 
 the spasm of a reviving memory. 
 
 " Yes," he replied slowly ; " I was in 
 hell." 
 
 " No, you weren't, young man," came the 
 cheery answer, "but you soon will be on 
 these lines. You were in my Rescue Room, 
 that's where you were, and glad to get 
 there, I reckon. You don't want to be 
 
 183
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 calling it names to the Superintendent next 
 day." The speaker threw his head back 
 slightly when talking, as if to show the 
 quizzical smile lurking under his grey mous- 
 tache. 
 
 Bracken closed his eyes again wearily, 
 without reply. 
 
 " You feel kinder faint ? How would a 
 mug of strong coffee seerh ? Come along, 
 Waif ! We'll get it for him., won't we, old 
 man ? When you've lost your cat for all 
 night, you're kinder foolish about him the 
 whole day afterward. I'll be back in a 
 minute." 
 
 The Superintendent was still holding the 
 cat in his arm when he returned carrying 
 in his free hand a mug of steaming coffee. 
 
 Its odour filled the nostrils of the weak- 
 ened man gratefully. He opened his eyes 
 and took the mug, drinking its contents 
 eagerly. As he raised his arm, the older 
 man laid his fingers on the soiled sleeve 
 which covered it, eying the texture of the 
 cloth. 
 
 " How many suits have you wore out on 
 the road?" 
 
 184
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Archibald Bracken looked up enquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I mean, how many suits have you wore 
 out tramping? Is this your first? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Was it given to you ? " 
 
 " Ng." 
 
 " I thought not. You haven't wore out 
 the face your mother gave you yet, either. 
 Joseph, now, had wore out two or three 
 faces on the road, and rinds and rinds o' 
 clothes before I got hold of him. That's 
 why he ain't fit to do much more than 
 make coffee now. He makes that good, 
 though, don't he? I caught him one night 
 when I was out fishing in another man's 
 meeting. But I can't ever trust him out of 
 eyeshot no more than I can Waif, here." 
 
 His voice rose to the oddest squeal as he 
 turned again to his cat. " Hi, yah, you 
 Waif! Ain't you 'shamed, sir! went on 
 a hoodie last night, did you ? Comin' in 
 here this morning half froze, and telling 
 me a tale 'bout a sick friend. I know you. 
 You're jest one of the boys, you are. Ex- 
 pect to sleep in my bed to-night, too. 
 185
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 That's the trick ! Want to run away and 
 bum it, and come back and find the old 
 place waiting for you. I ought to put you 
 right into Congress Hall with the boys, I 
 ought. What part of the world do you 
 come from ? " 
 
 He turned suddenly from the cat jo the 
 man. 
 
 Bracken looked up into the face of his 
 questioner. His lips seemed as if deliber- 
 ately sealing, and his grasp on the mug 
 relaxed. The Superintendent waved his 
 hand easily. 
 
 " It don't matter. We have representa- 
 tives from ev'ry State and Territory in the 
 Union a-settin' in session here ev'ry night. 
 That's why I call it Congress Hall. You 
 can stay where you're lying now till night, 
 then you must go back with your brother 
 senators. These beds are for me and my 
 converts. When you get through with that 
 mug, set it down. I've got some work to 
 do now. There's a lady up town that gives 
 me her husband's old clothes regular for 
 my boys, and the good Lord made him 
 take on some flesh lately, so she says she's 
 186
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 just packed up ev'ry blessed thing he had, 
 and sent it to me that whole trunkf ul. 
 I'm sortin' 'em out now." 
 
 He pointed to the centre of the room, 
 where stood an open trunk, part of its con- 
 tents still unpacked, part strewn about on 
 the bare boards of the floor. 
 
 Bracken lay on the bed listening dully to 
 the Superintendent's dropping talk, ad- 
 dressed half to himself, half to the cat, as 
 he worked over the clothing. 
 
 It was not difficult to see that the hands 
 which had packed the trunk with gifts for 
 the needy had been directed by a very inex- 
 perienced or a reckless brain. 
 
 As the Superintendent drew out article 
 after article belonging to the wardrobe of a 
 man of fashion, he scratched his head per- 
 plexedly over the uses of some, and chuckled 
 over the in appropriateness of others. When 
 he discovered a heavy great-coat and sev- 
 eral suits of warm cloth, he crowed with 
 delight, assigning them to one name and 
 another as he shook them from their folds. 
 The luxurious underclothing he flung into 
 a contemptuous heap, pushing them care- 
 187
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 lessly aside with his foot. Waif soon dis- 
 covered the pile, and, first kneading its 
 softness with his feet, laid himself down 
 purringly. 
 
 "That's it," said the Superintendent, 
 catching sight of him enthroned. " You've 
 found about its one use to me, Waif. I 
 might as well dress my men in cobwebs as 
 in those things. But look here, will you ! 
 What's this ? If it ain't just the ticket for 
 Joseph. He's been crying for a black coat 
 for Sundays these weeks. I told him to 
 keep on prayin' and trustin,' and here it is. 
 \Vaif, you lazy tramp, help me shake it out. 
 What in life's this cut ? Well, I'm blessed 
 if she ain't " - 
 
 He dropped the coat on the floor and sat 
 down on the edge of the trunk to laugh 
 until the tears ran over his face. Wiping 
 them away with the back of his hand, he 
 stooped and lifted the coat again. As the 
 long satin-faced tails swept the floor he fell 
 into another crowing ecstasy. 
 
 "A regular full-dress suit," he gasped. 
 " Bless her onthinkin' soul ! Now, who'd 
 she imagine was goin' to wear this thing 
 1 88
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 down here ! I see Joseph in it of a Sun- 
 day, carrying the tails over his arms, and 
 turnin' the satin lining out on the boys ! 
 Oh my, my " He was still shaking as he 
 drew out the rest of the costume. 
 
 " Vest, pants, coat, it's all here, and 
 ain't it fine ? " 
 
 He rubbed the broadcloth against his 
 face as he ruminated. 
 
 " I might sell it, but I kinder hate to. 
 I'd never get its worth in a shop. I'd like 
 to keep it just to look at, like a doll. I 
 guess I'll have to pack it away and take 
 private bids on it." 
 
 He threw out the remaining contents of 
 the trunk, and again seating himself on its 
 edge, laid the coat on his knees, seeking 
 for the original folds. After absorbed 
 twisting and turning, during which his lips 
 worked as earnestly as his hands, he looked 
 dubiously at the bundle of cloth which his 
 labours represented. 
 
 " You will have to lay it on the floor to 
 fold it," said a voice from the bed. The 
 Superintendent looked up quickly. 
 
 "If you know so much about folding 
 189
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 dress-suits, young man, you'd better get up 
 and fold this one. Have you got your back- 
 bone again ? There's nothing like sleep and 
 coffee to fetch it." 
 
 "Yes," answered Bracken, rising, "I am 
 myself again, fortunately or unfortunately, 
 thanks to you." 
 
 " Do you feel like you owe me some- 
 thing ? Would you like to pay it ? " 
 
 His guest's reply halted between pride 
 and humiliation. 
 
 " I will pay you with the first opportunity." 
 
 " It's a bargain. To-morrow's Sunday, 
 and you can pay me by staying to my gos- 
 pel meeting. That will make us quits. You 
 could make a honest livin' just folding 
 clothes, young man. You've polished off 
 that coat while I was thinking about it. It 
 might have come from the store. Fold that 
 vest and pants too, will you ? Now, ain't 
 it pitiful to think of a woman having no 
 more knowledge than to send that here ? 
 She means the very best, poor thing. Well, 
 she's young enough to learn. Her hus- 
 band's out of town, or this ridickerlous thing 
 wouldn't a happened, I can tell you. He's 
 190
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 got sense enough to balance ten like her ; 
 but then he's a generation older than she 
 is. How I came to know about her was 
 through her maid. I pulled a boy of hers 
 out of the gutter for her, and in turn she 
 introjuced me to her mistress. That's the 
 way it goes. Bread on the waters ! " 
 
 Bracken, kneeling on the floor over the 
 clothing, listening half absent in mind, 
 raised his head to reply, and found his eyes 
 on a level with a name and address printed 
 in distinct black letters on the trunk's side. 
 He started back with a smothered exclama- 
 tion, then bent quickly over the garment he 
 held, folding and refolding it before he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Is that her name ? " he asked in a low 
 voice, and pointing out the letters. 
 
 The Superintendent peered over the side 
 of the trunk. " ' A. B. Atwood,' " he read. 
 "Yes, that's it. I didn't see that before. 
 ' Church Square? They've took a house 
 opposite the biggest church here." 
 
 "What," asked Bracken deliberately, 
 " what was her maiden name ? " 
 
 The Superintendent shook his head. 
 191
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 "I can't tell you. I only knew her 
 since she's married. They're strangers 
 just here for the winter. Ain't this a funny 
 world ! Now look here. Just to-night the 
 same woman that in her almighty ignorance 
 sent me that dress-suit is giving a ball that 
 I know more about than any of the fine 
 folk who'll be there. Her husband, he 
 don't deny her anything in reason, but 
 she's a pride about keeping in her allow- 
 ance. I sensed that. When I was talking 
 up my Rescue Home here to her, she told 
 me right out how it was, and said she hadn't 
 a penny to give me then, but I could see 
 she felt it ; and, sure enough, next day came 
 a good check. Where do you think she 
 got that money? It was half what her 
 husband gave her for her ball to-night. 
 That's what her maid told me. Don't you 
 call that learning ? I'm goin' to teach her 
 more too before I get through. Are you 
 going to fold the rest of them things ? V 
 
 Archibald Bracken had drawn the re- 
 maining clothes nearer, and was mechani- 
 cally folding these also. He dropped them 
 as the Superintendent spoke. 
 192
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " I wish you would. You do it a heap 
 better than I can. Put the best back in 
 the trunk with the dress-suit, and lay the 
 rest out on the beds for use. I'll go down- 
 stairs now and look after Joseph. He's 
 been quiet so long, I'm afraid he's in mis- 
 chief. He's just like a child. Come on, 
 Waif. Did you ever see a cat before that 
 follows like a dog ? Look here, right at 
 my heels ev'rywhere I go. Want to get in 
 your grandpa's arms ? Jump, then." 
 
 As the door closed on man and beast, 
 Archibald Bracken with a gesture of abhor- 
 rence swept from him the clothes by which 
 he was surrounded, and sat in the midst of 
 the confusion, his face buried in his hands. 
 When he looked up again at the printed 
 name and address mutely facing him, he 
 flushed angrily, and bending forward struck 
 scornfully with the back of his hand at the 
 offending letters. With the childish action 
 the flush on his face deepened, and he drew 
 in his breath quickly. He sat staring be- 
 fore him gloomily, yet with more composure, 
 until his gaze again dropped on the scat- 
 tered clothing, then his open hand suddenly 
 
 i93
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 swept out and closed, as if grasping an em- 
 bodied thought which rose before him. 
 
 " Yes, I will do it," he said aloud, as he 
 rose to his feet. " I will see her once more." 
 
 From the clothing which he had thrust 
 from him as if the very touch offended, he 
 made a hurried selection, one article here, 
 another there, until a full suit of the under- 
 wear lay spread out on the bed. He drew 
 out from the trunk the folded evening suit, 
 and, tossing over the contents of the trays 
 until he found the smaller accessories he 
 desired, laid all carefully together. 
 
 Twenty minutes later the cheap looking- 
 glass over the rude toilet-table reflected a 
 figure such as its depths had never before 
 held, that of a man immaculately attired 
 in full evening dress, whose light hair, care- 
 fully brushed, fell away from the trained 
 parting over dark eyes blazing with excite- 
 ment, and lips that parted in a derisive 
 smile, as he glanced about the poor room, 
 and at his own white-faced image. Then, 
 turning away, Bracken snatched up the 
 great-coat over which the Superintendent 
 had so much rejoiced. Wrapping himself 
 194
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 hastily in its folds, he walked boldly from 
 the door, and down the stairs, making his 
 way unchallenged from the house. 
 
 Outside he found the city lamps lit and 
 burning on either side of the street in 
 short serpentine trails, for it was a hill city. 
 As he looked ahead of him, the line of 
 lights broke off abruptly at each summit. 
 From the top of the slopes they stretched 
 out longer, curving down, then up again in 
 the next ascent. 
 
 Bracken wandered on aimlessly. The 
 night air played revivingly on his face, and, 
 as his lips parted, he drank it in as a cool- 
 ing draught. Through the open windows 
 of the druggists' shops he passed, he could 
 see the clocks hanging within, and follow 
 the passing of time. Once when there 
 came quite a distance between shop and 
 shop, his hand moved mechanically toward 
 his watch-pocket. Finding it empty he 
 started and stopped, then threw back his 
 head with a harsh laugh and acceptance of 
 returning memory. It was ten o'clock 
 when he at last set his face in a new direc- 
 tion, taking close account of the names and 
 i95
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 numbers of the streets he passed. His 
 step quickening with the consciousness of 
 a definite end in view, he soon reached a 
 point where a massive building rose before 
 him, set in the midst of a square of green 
 grass. 
 
 The churchly pile was topped with spread- 
 ing domes and high belfries, above which 
 slender crosses showed dimly against the 
 sky. 
 
 Archibald Bracken paused a moment to 
 look up at a belfry clock. The light burn- 
 ing behind its glass dial once more gave 
 him the hour. On the opposite side of the 
 street was a large house brilliantly illumi- 
 nated in every window. A string of car- 
 riages blocking the way before the door, 
 the hum of voices and laughter, with an 
 occasional escaping strain of music, told of 
 feasting within. Bracken crossed the street 
 and looked at the closed door. For the 
 first time he hesitated, then moved quickly 
 up the steps. The door opened noiselessly 
 at his approach, and he entered. Looking 
 about him deliberately, he walked through 
 the long hall inside, past open doorways 
 196
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 framing gay tableaux of colour and banked 
 flowers, of graceful laughing women and 
 crowding men, on to the dressing-room at 
 the back of the house. It was almost 
 empty when he reached it. Two or three 
 men standing talking together had already 
 laid aside their hats and coats. Archibald 
 Bracken flung off his coat also, and followed 
 them. As they entered the ballroom to 
 circle about their hostess, he could see 
 nothing but their black-coated backs and 
 bending heads. Then they parted to left 
 and right, disclosing her standing against 
 the heavy-leaved foliage, alone before him. 
 The flame-coloured robe she wore wrapped 
 her closely, as might an actual flame. 
 Above its unrelieved brightness her throat 
 rose like a white cherry blossom breaking 
 from its warm sheath. Half on her bosom, 
 half on the folds above, lay a spray of 
 amaryllis, its stiff, flat stem struck as a band 
 of green across her heart. From the chain 
 about her neck hung drops of opals, the 
 shifting flames burning in their hearts un- 
 quenchably as vestal fires. Opals, swaying 
 on the quivering wires which bound them 
 197
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 in her heaped-up hair, baptised her with 
 dancing light. The warm blood that bathed 
 her from bosom to brow as she grasped the 
 fact of his presence seemed to Archibald 
 Bracken to transform herself into a flame, 
 elusive, unapproachable, as those encased 
 in her jewels. She came a step to meet 
 him, and he saw only the light in her eyes. 
 
 "Archie ! " 
 
 Her voice was a breath, yet in his ears 
 and hers it echoed through the rooms. 
 
 " Not here," she murmured hastily ; " up 
 the stair; the first room to the right. I 
 will follow you when I can escape." 
 
 In the withdrawing room at the head 
 of the stair he waited for her. When she 
 came she was breathless, as one, in fact, 
 escaping pursuit. She closed the door be- 
 hind her, and moved quickly toward him, 
 her hand outstretched. Bracken let her 
 come within a step of him, then, looking 
 full into her face, he put his hand behind 
 him. Hers dropped to the back of the chair 
 by which she stood as she spoke sadly : 
 
 " You have sought me in anger, then, 
 Archie ? You can refuse my greeting ? " 
 198
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 He bowed gravely. 
 
 " You, madam, are not the injured one. 
 Aline, what have you to say ? " 
 
 She replied impulsively, bending toward 
 him, 
 
 " That I thank God in seeing you again." 
 
 " What God ? " 
 
 Aline turned from him sharply, covering 
 her eyes with one hand ; the other, resting 
 on the chair-back, trembled as he went 
 on : 
 
 " The God by whose name you vowed to 
 be faithful to me in my reverses, to wait 
 for me forever, if need be ? The God you 
 called to witness in the vows we repeated 
 together as a closer binding on the day we 
 parted, you resting sobbing in these arms ? " 
 
 She moved quickly to face him, the tears 
 still hanging on her lashes. 
 
 " Enough ; you pass all bounds. I re- 
 fuse to listen." 
 
 The man's anger seemed to rise as a 
 wall before his eyes, shutting out her pro- 
 test. He rushed on blindly, flinging out 
 words like blows : 
 
 " You shall hear me. If but for once in 
 199
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 your ignorant life, you shall see things as 
 they are. You who could throw me aside 
 as a worn-out glove, forgetting how often it 
 has caressed your hand, your cheek, can 
 stand there and talk to me of your God 
 you who sold him for mammon without a 
 quiver ? " 
 
 With a motion rapid and irresistible as 
 that of a humming-bird, she had caught his 
 hand before he could elude her. 
 
 " You shall hear me also before you 
 accuse me of barter. Did I know God 
 from mammon in my ignorant life ? You, 
 too, were a part of that life. You lived it 
 with me. Was there a greater crime than 
 failure in our calendar ? That crime you 
 committed. Ignorant ! I was in an abyss 
 of ignorance that I look back on shudder- 
 ingly. You have learned by suffering, 
 Archie. Do you think I have not suffered 
 in learning ? " 
 
 She turned away, her voice breaking. 
 
 Bracken drew a slow step nearer to her. 
 
 Raising his hand, he touched lightly the 
 
 jewels that trembled on her bowed head. 
 
 " " Tell me," he asked ; " this man who
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 bought you, who clothes you in jewels, do 
 you pay this suffering as their price ? " 
 
 Aline raised her face to him, a smile 
 breaking through the quivering of her lips. 
 The tears blinding her eyes hid from her 
 the hands which were suddenly stretched 
 out toward her and as quickly withdrawn. 
 
 " After I had broken with you," she said 
 gently, " I sold myself to the highest bid- 
 der. From the man who bought me, from 
 the man who is my husband, I have learned 
 of how little value was the woman he pur- 
 chased. It was dross for dross, and he 
 knew it in the buying. The woman he has 
 created longs only to be worthy of him. 
 Through him, indeed, I first learned to suf- 
 fer ; not by him. His voice pointed out to 
 me the wrong I had done you. He taught 
 me remorse, repentance for my faithless- 
 ness. He has helped me to search for you 
 everywhere, in every place. Archie, my 
 worst dreams have been of seeing you des- 
 titute, throwing away the life I had ruined. 
 Where have you hidden so cruelly ? Why 
 have you let your mother, your father, why 
 have you let me so suffer ? Do you now
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 wonder that I thanked God in seeing you, 
 and seeing you thus ? Had you been found, 
 as I have dreamed shudderingly of finding 
 you, I think it must have broken my heart." 
 
 His face hardened and darkened. 
 
 " Let it break, then," he answered bru- 
 tally. "Aline, you must have become a 
 good woman. Only a good woman could 
 have so flaunted the noble husband, the 
 happy marriage, in the cast-off lover's face. 
 Look at me ! Do clothes so make the 
 man ? Stripped of them, I am the being of 
 your lowest dreams. Do you not recognise 
 these robes of samite ? They are the noble 
 husband's cast-off raiment. None of all 
 this is I, save myself, or what is left of me, 
 and these." 
 
 He thrust out his foot rudely. It was 
 shod in his own patent leather shoe, cracked, 
 rubbed, and incongruous. 
 
 " As you see," he ended grimly, " I do 
 not stand in your husband's shoes, where 
 I should by every right." 
 
 Aline shuddered at his laugh, drawing 
 back from him speechless, her eyes widen- 
 ing with horror as he went on :
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " Do you know where I spent last night ? 
 Let me draw a picture for you. Think 
 of your ballroom as empty of furniture, 
 and for its carpet imagine wallowing hu- 
 man beings. Where men are now dancing, 
 laughing, jesting, walking upright, picture 
 them lying lower than the beasts of the 
 field. ' On thy belly shalt thou go, and 
 dust shalt thou eat.' Of these I am now 
 one. In the Rescue Home which your 
 patronage honours I have eaten their dust. 
 I have lain in their common bed. I have 
 breathed them into my nostrils. I smell 
 them now. I have held their hideous mur- 
 mur in my ears. Have you ever heard it ? 
 Here an oath, there a word, there a laugh ; 
 the shaking chain of the bound tiger ! 
 Have you dreamed such dreams ? From 
 that I have come, to that I return. Like 
 Dives, I have wished for an hour on earth. 
 Unlike him, my wish has been granted. 
 His was the easier part. My hour is over." 
 
 He moved toward the door as he spoke, 
 but Aline was before him. She was quiv- 
 ering from head to foot; her white face, 
 drawn and desperate, rose startlingly above 
 203
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 her gala dress. The hands which she 
 stretched out imploringly were shaking. 
 
 "You shall not go. If my suffering is 
 nothing to you, think of your father, your 
 mother. They have forgiven me ; they 
 have been searching for you with me. Let 
 me tell them where you are. At a word 
 they would go to you, even through the hor- 
 rors you describe as would I." 
 
 " You," he repeated. " You know noth- 
 ing of what you speak. The description is 
 gilded, yet see how it has driven the blood 
 from your cheeks, the power from your 
 body, and set horror in your eyes." 
 
 " I know more than you realise. I have 
 seen and talked with the Superintendent 
 of the Rescue Home. Do you know his 
 story ? He has lain as low as the lowest 
 there. He has known every horror which 
 they know, and now he gives himself to 
 save others. He was able to retrace his 
 steps. He has made his very sins a ladder 
 of salvation for others. Archie, hear me. 
 Out of my own life I speak to you. I fell 
 as low as you can have fallen. I sold my 
 body as surely as you sell your soul. Had 
 204
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 I then possessed a soul for selling, that too 
 would I have sold. Look in my eyes. 
 They are not the eyes you used to know. 
 Are they those of a fallen woman ? I have 
 been rescued as you can be. Do not go 
 back. Have mercy on me. Let my re- 
 pentance atone in part ! " 
 
 Her clasped hands were lifted, entreating 
 him. She bent more and more imploringly 
 toward him, until, as she ended, she was 
 kneeling at his feet. He lifted her in 
 silence. Aline stood before him sobbing, 
 shaken, unable to support herself. He 
 drew her to a near sofa. In so doing, he 
 avoided her touch, and moved a step from 
 her when she was seated. 
 
 " Aline," he began, " in part you wrong 
 me. I did not seek you expecting to cause 
 such suffering, or to see this woman. A 
 wild impulse made me follow you here, 
 that was all. I had no plan. Had I known 
 that my fall could mean all this to you, you 
 should never have learned of it. Perhaps 
 I possess the true criminal's temperament, 
 and have no power to foresee consequences. 
 Certainly in my plunge into oblivion I did 
 205
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 not reckon on sinking to this. So late as 
 a week ago I would have called it impossi- 
 ble. Now that I am what I am, you must 
 let me be to fall yet lower, or rise again as 
 it happens. Do not feel too responsible. 
 A man's deeds are on his own head, and 
 one good has been gained by our meeting. 
 I do not carry resentment beyond the grave. 
 The woman who roused its bitterness is 
 dead. You are not she." 
 
 Aline looked up newly stirred. 
 
 " Archie, if you can so forgive me, forget 
 too. Let me wake you from this hideous 
 life as I have waked from dreams of you. 
 Let me write one line to those who would 
 give their world to receive it." 
 
 "No," he answered quickly; " not for 
 ten worlds. You know nothing, nothing of 
 the depths to which man can fall, to which 
 I have fallen. Between me and those I 
 have left there is a great gulf fixed. If it 
 is to be crossed, I, not they, must pass it. 
 No, Aline, when I leave you, as I shall in a 
 moment, I forbid you to speak one word of 
 me to them, to any one ; and I have the right 
 to do so. Forgive me if I remind you 
 206
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 that your power to dictate in my life is 
 over." 
 
 She bowed her head, accepting sadly. 
 
 " That I have forfeited. I do not assert 
 it. I will do nothing against your will. In 
 return, in parting, Archie, I must ask of 
 you two favours. You can grant both, for 
 they bind you to so little." 
 
 She raised her hand, and detached from 
 her hair a part of the gleaming oriflamme 
 which quivered there. As she held out the 
 jewelled pin, it flashed as a wand tipped 
 with fire. 
 
 " If I know that you have this by you," 
 she said, " I shall be less wretched. At 
 the worst, I shall know that you need not 
 be hungry or shelterless." 
 
 He shook his head, drawing back. 
 
 " Aline, you must see that I cannot," he 
 began, but, looking into her face, the words 
 died on his lips. " It shall be as you wish," 
 he said gently ; " give me the jewel." 
 
 Her face cleared as he took it. Her next 
 words were stronger : 
 
 " I said two favours ; one you have 
 granted, and now the other. I want you 
 207
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 to remember through all, through whatever 
 may be or threaten, that the door of your 
 home is always open to you. For that I 
 can answer. Archie, it is more than open. 
 Your father's, your mother's arms are 
 stretched out from it toward you. When 
 the day comes that you feel you can return 
 to them, to your own place in the world, 
 then you will write to me, will you not ? 
 Let me be your messenger. If you can 
 find no words in which to tell me, then 
 send me a bare line, a token ; anything 
 which I could recognise as coming from 
 your hands would be enough. I should 
 understand, and be able to interpret to 
 them. Remember the door is always wide 
 listen ! Some one is calling me. They 
 are coming ; Archie, speak to me quickly ! 
 You will promise ? " 
 
 She laid her hand entreatingly on his 
 arm. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "so much I promise." 
 The door broke open to admit a re- 
 proachful, noisy body of revellers, and the 
 woman whose anguish had dragged her to 
 her knees but a few moments before, stood 
 208
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 on the same spot to receive them, laughing 
 her apologies. 
 
 Archibald Bracken, following her to the 
 landing outside, stood where the light from 
 the stairway lamp fell brightly on his worn 
 shoes. He noted it, but without realisation, 
 until, guided by a swift feminine motion, 
 the flame-colored train swept to one side, 
 covering his feet. Then he looked up with 
 a start to see also that her gloved hand 
 almost imperceptibly motioned him toward 
 the stairway, at that moment deserted. 
 Obeying the gesture, he descended, but at 
 the first turn paused for a moment, looking 
 back to see her standing above him in the 
 flood of light, surrounded by adulation, 
 laughing, radiant, sparkling as the ori- 
 flamme above her head, from which as he 
 alone knew one of the brightest gems 
 was missing. 
 
 Once out of the house he ran, in what 
 direction he scarcely knew. When he 
 finally turned into a street strikingly famil- 
 iar, he doubled his pace as a lost dog when 
 it suddenly finds the home trail. It was 
 Sunday morning when he reached the 
 209
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Rescue Home. His knock was answered 
 by the Superintendent himself, who stood 
 looking at his panting guest as if consider- 
 ing whether he should not shut the door in 
 his face. Waif, walking close after him, 
 leaned his head against the Superinten- 
 dent's leg, looking up into the wanderer's 
 face as if also regarding him judicially. 
 
 The Superintendent seemed about to 
 speak, then changed his mind. He stood 
 aside from the door, and Archibald Bracken 
 entered. In that moment Waif seized his 
 chance. From between his master's very 
 feet, calm and unobserved, he stalked out 
 into the night from which the other of- 
 fender had returned. Silently the Super- 
 intendent led the way up the stair. As 
 they reached the door of the hall where 
 the men lay asleep, dimly seen by the low 
 lights, Bracken shuddered. The Superin- 
 tendent glanced at him as if again consid- 
 ering. 
 
 "Come," he said finally, "you won't 
 have to sleep with the boys to-night." He 
 moved on to his own room, where he mo- 
 tioned toward an empty bed, stating briefly 
 
 210
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 that as Joseph happened to be away it 
 might as well be used. " And," he added 
 drily, glancing at the borrowed plumage, 
 " you may as well help yourself to one of 
 them ruffled nightshirts too, and finish up 
 your job neat." 
 
 With the manner of one half dazed, 
 Archibald Bracken received and followed 
 his instructions ; but the last sounds in the 
 Superintendent's ears that night were his 
 guest's restless movements and irregular 
 breathing. 
 
 Later in the morning, when Bracken rose 
 from his sleepless bed and dressed himself 
 once more in his own clothes, it was only 
 to sit absorbed and silent, his gaze fixed on 
 vacancy, until the Superintendent, casting 
 his eye upon him, set him straightway to 
 active work. There was enough to be done 
 in the time given. The hall where the men 
 had passed the night was to be swept and 
 cleaned, and the benches returned from the 
 platform to their proper place on the floor. 
 For the first time Bracken saw the room by 
 daylight. It was large and light, with win- 
 dows cut in either side wall. The spaces
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 between doors and windows were papered 
 with inscriptions, some taken from Scrip- 
 ture, others evidently the outpouring of an 
 original mind. 
 
 A square placard at the head of the room 
 bore the motto of the work. It began with 
 a large S., the common initial letter for 
 three words soap, soup, salvation. So 
 soon as the room was restored to order, 
 the men came crowding back to take their 
 seats, waiting for the free breakfast which 
 they knew every Sunday morning brought 
 to them. The general appearance of most 
 of the guests bore witness that the " Soap " 
 of the programme had been carried out, and 
 they waited patiently for the next word in 
 order. Assisted by Bracken, Joseph, and 
 some picked converts, the Superintendent 
 passed up and down the aisles, carrying 
 baskets of tin mugs, a boiler of coffee, and 
 baskets of bread. When these had been 
 distributed among the fasting men, when 
 the dry bread had been eaten, the coffee 
 swallowed, and the mugs returned, that 
 which represented " Soup " was also scored 
 off the list as accomplished. The Superin-
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 tendent began preparing the platform for 
 " Salvation." Bracken, who had eaten his 
 morning meal with Joseph, found a seat 
 among the men on a bench at the foot of 
 the room. On one side of him sat a cleanly 
 blue-eyed young German, on the other an 
 unmistakable American, lightly built, with 
 nervous motions and eyes full half an inch 
 too close together. His face had been 
 refined ; it was so still, though bearing signs 
 of wear that in a garment would have been 
 called tattered. He was disgracefully rag- 
 ged and soiled. 
 
 The Superintendent stood at his plat- 
 form desk, his Bible open before him. His 
 tried converts were collected together on 
 the platform behind him. One who had 
 proven musical sat before the little melodeon 
 against the wall, and " Salvation " began 
 with a hymn. 
 
 Of the singing and the prayers which 
 followed, Archibald Bracken heard little 
 more than a loud noise and a monotonous 
 murmur. He did not even turn his head 
 when the Superintendent, who was seated 
 at his desk singing lustily, suddenly started 
 213
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 to his feet, with the opening of the second 
 hymn, his lips closing on a word half ut- 
 tered. Stepping heavily from the platform 
 to the floor, he made his way quickly down 
 the aisle, followed by every eye in the room 
 with one exception. Only when the return- 
 ing footsteps passed him again did Bracken 
 look up. But with that look he almost 
 leaped from his seat. White as the ghost 
 of her last night's self, her eyes fixed steadily 
 before her, so near that he could have 
 touched her with his hand, Aline was walk- 
 ing up the aisle, following the Superintend- 
 ent to the platform. 
 
 " A woman preacher, I guess they 
 sometimes visit us," whispered the guttural 
 German. Bracken replied with a savage 
 gesture for silence. Aline had seated her- 
 self in the chair which the Superintendent 
 gave her and was facing the room. At first 
 she did not or could not raise her eyes. 
 When she did, Bracken felt the shudder 
 which she repressed at the sight before her. 
 With what seemed to him a visible effort, 
 she forced herself to look down the room, 
 bench by bench, into each separate face 
 214
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 there, her own paling more and more. One 
 further line of those faces, depressed, repul- 
 sive, or suffering, and then would come the 
 bench where he sat. He looked desperately 
 to right and left. The next moment her 
 dilated eyes seemed to him to draw the very 
 soul from his body. He caught his breath 
 with a vague fear of what might follow, but 
 she had found what she sought and sat 
 motionless, her gaze fixed. 
 
 In a volume of sound the rough voices 
 rose through the hall, singing a hymn famil- 
 iar to them all. 
 
 "Are you weary, are you heavy hearted? 
 Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus; 
 Are you grieving over joys departed? 
 Tell it to Jesus alone. 
 
 Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus, 
 
 He is a friend that's well known. 
 
 You have no other such a friend or brother. 
 
 Tell it to Jesus alone." 
 
 The young German at Bracken's side led 
 
 the chorus in a tenor so high and true that, 
 
 her tense attention broken, Aline's eyes 
 
 wandered to him once or twice, but ever 
 
 215
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 returned again to the face she knew too 
 well. The Superintendent rose, and the 
 preaching began. Something on the same 
 order, though never quite like it, Archibald 
 Bracken had often before heard, in street 
 revivals; but, watching Aline, he realised 
 anxiously that this was to be a new ex- 
 perience for her. As the Superintendent 
 warmed with his own words, her gaze fall- 
 ing from the face where it had been fixed, 
 was drawn to the strange features of 
 one man and another through the room. 
 Bracken saw this awakening interest with 
 an ever mounting uneasiness that banished 
 thoughts of self. Her concentrated atten- 
 tion was what he had least desired, now he 
 would have given worlds to recall and hold it. 
 
 " Christ wasn't born in no uptown man- 
 sion," the Superintendent was saying. 
 
 He spoke quaintly in a vernacular under- 
 stood by his listeners. 
 
 They gave rapt attention to his crisp and 
 clipping phrases. 
 
 " It was to save the homeless and the 
 lost that the Homeless came. To save you 
 and me. Wasn't I as low as the lowest 
 216
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 here when he came and lifted me up ? All 
 you've got to do is to raise your hand like 
 this. Raise it high above your head, out o' 
 the dirt and disgrace, and cry, ' Here, Lord, 
 take it. I can't stand alone.' Then hold 
 fast, and the Lord will never forsake you. 
 That's what I did in a hour of agony, and 
 I've been walking with my hand in his ever 
 since. Just the minute I let go of the 
 blessed Saviour's hand, down I would fall 
 to where you are, or maybe lower, to where 
 I was before. I know myself as well. 
 Yes, indeed ; the Lord and I know. Boys, 
 you've seen how comfortable my little office 
 is, nice warm fire in there ; chairs and a 
 desk, and a good carpet. I tell you, I can 
 sit at that desk and look acrost the street, 
 into the market there where I lay the night 
 before I give up and put my hand in the 
 hand of the Lord. There I lay under a 
 stall, dirty, drunk, covered with vermin. 
 No man had a decent word for me, but the 
 Son of God, when he came. I never got a 
 meal but with a drink or ' a hand out ' from 
 some door on a crack. To-day you know 
 there ain't a man in this street but takes 
 217
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 his hat off to me, ' How do you do, sir ? ' 
 Even the saloon-keepers, fightin' them as 
 I am, night and day, they treat me civil. I 
 respect myself now ; that's it. You can't 
 ask folks to respect a man who don't re- 
 spect himself. Lord, make these self-re- 
 spectin' men, so that we may respect them 
 as we would ! 
 
 " Men, what have I to gain by standin' 
 here, day after day, talkin' to you like this ? 
 Nothin', nothin' at all. You've got to be- 
 lieve I'm only working for my God. Bread 
 that's cast upon the waters, in the hope of 
 return, only comes back all swelled up, and 
 not fit to eat. I've seen that, time and 
 again. I just stand here sowing the seeds 
 of his word where they may fall. Lord, 
 make the harvest great ! I tell you, it's 
 never too late to rise and come to him. 
 It's the Devil only that whispers, ' Too 
 late.' 
 
 "You can't be lower, and you can't be 
 later in comin' to God, than I was. ' Come 
 unto me,' that's his word. He don't say 
 nothin' about too late, just, ' Come unto me.' 
 He's always ready and waitin' for you. His 
 218
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 arms is ever outstretched. Strait is the 
 way and narrer is the gate ; but it's always 
 open wide open." 
 
 Archibald Bracken's soul grew sick within 
 him. At these words, almost the counter- 
 part of those in which Aline had spoken to 
 him of an earthly father's open door, she 
 had turned, and her eyes, swimming in 
 tears, sought his with meaning. 
 
 All this, to which the men about him 
 listened with more or less emotion, passed 
 by Bracken as the empty wind. But, as he 
 could too plainly see, it was as the breaking 
 up of the waters to Aline. With the rise 
 and fall of the rude eloquence, her colour 
 came and went. The memory of her first 
 shrinking and horror was slipping away 
 from her. She hung on the speaker's words 
 breathlessly, her eyes turning from his face 
 to the wretched faces of those with whom 
 he strove, as if wondering at their delayed 
 response. The discourse, kind, severe, illit- 
 erate, and strong, went on to the close. 
 
 As he ended, the Superintendent crossed 
 the platform to bend over Aline and whis- 
 per in her ear. 
 
 219
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " He's asking her to speak now," said 
 the German, settling himself to listen. A 
 rush of angry blood rose to Archibald 
 Bracken's face, his hands clenched as he 
 saw Aline shrink back, once more the 
 startled woman who had first entered. The 
 Superintendent did not press her ; but 
 Bracken only breathed freely when he saw 
 him leave her side and return to his desk, 
 continuing the exercises. 
 
 "You've had my testimony, boys," he 
 said. Then, turning to those at the back 
 of the platform, " Who speaks next ? " 
 
 Joseph was first from among the converts. 
 His brief testimony was given in language as 
 broken as the manhood he had almost lost. 
 
 " Only he who thirsted in the desert 
 knows how I thirsted for drink," he said 
 simply. " My longing was not to be 
 quenched until I drank of the Blood of 
 the Lamb, and that washed it away. Praise 
 God, it's gone. I haven't tasted liquor for 
 two years. I ask your prayers to keep the 
 first drink away from me." 
 
 " Lord bless you ! " said the Superintend- 
 ent as Joseph sat down. " That's it, boys.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Joseph knows. Let the first drink alone, 
 and you won't get drunk. Who next ?" 
 
 One by one the converts on the platform 
 rose, each with his own short, wretched 
 confession of the past and his roused hope 
 for the future. Now and then the Superin- 
 tendent threw in a word of warning to the 
 speaker, or called the attention of the lis- 
 teners to some point. Any attempt to 
 dwell on past sin met his quick " That's 
 over, brother. Put it behind you. God 
 bless you ! Go on." 
 
 The repeated story of good homes wil- 
 fully deserted, or of misfortunes that 
 dragged down as sleuth hounds, flowed on 
 sickeningly to one who heard such testi- 
 monies for the first time. Bracken saw the 
 dark circles come under Aline's eyes, and 
 deepen into her white face. 
 
 The young American by his side sat 
 with his face buried in his hands, and had 
 so sat for minutes, overcome or asleep. 
 
 " That's all," said the Superintendent at 
 last. " Now, boys, you've heard " 
 
 An unexpected voice rose from the floor 
 of the hall.
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 " There's one more would like to speak," 
 it said. 
 
 " Then speak for the Master's sake. 
 Stand and speak," cried the Superintend- 
 ent. The young American raised him- 
 self, and stood falteringly among the seated 
 men. He grasped the back of the bench 
 before him with both hands. His face was 
 not quite the same in that his own tears 
 had washed part of the soil away. 
 
 " In the last seven days," he began 
 weakly, " I have suffered an agony beyond 
 my words. This is my home city. I came 
 back to it after three years' absence, like 
 this. Need I say any more ? In these 
 three years I have lost all I was born to 
 have. I thought I had forgotten it ever 
 had been mine ; and I had forgotten until 
 I saw the old streets, and spent this week 
 turning each corner like a hound, for fear 
 some old friends or one of my family should 
 see me. I can't stand it. Last night I 
 drifted in here and I heard the prayers. I 
 heard them again to-day. I must begin 
 again. I scarcely know what has come to 
 me." 
 
 222
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 He sank back trembling. 
 
 " God bless you ! " cried the Superin- 
 tendent. " You don't know, but I do. 
 GOD has come to you. Hold his hand 
 fast. Lord, keep him in the hollow of Thy 
 hand ! Boys, you've .heard both sides, 
 now. These brothers have showed you 
 what the Lord can do for man. This new 
 brother tells you what a man does by him- 
 self in falling and suffering. Which will 
 you choose ? As you sit there, I know 
 what you're thinking. You will, and you 
 won't; and you can't decide. Stand up 
 like men, and choose. Chances don't lie 
 around waiting for you, any more than gold 
 does. You know that Salvation's gold. 
 Take it now. Stand up and raise your 
 hand to the Lord. Here, Lord, take it. 
 Rise up, men. Who will rise and lay his 
 hand in the hand of the Lord ? " 
 
 At the back of the hall one man rose 
 and stood. 
 
 " One, thank God ! " counteft the Super- 
 intendent. "Isn't there another? Don't 
 stand up unless you mean it. Don't stand 
 up because I ask you. Stand up to drop 
 223
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 the past, and begin your life over again,. 
 Who'll do that ? Two, three, four, five, 
 six. Lord bless you all ! Who next ? Can 
 only six men in this hall " 
 
 He broke off, falling back a step, one 
 hand still resting on his open Bible, the 
 other half extended toward Aline, who had 
 risen and moved forward. Bracken almost 
 groaned aloud. How could he stop her ? 
 From the moment the young man at his 
 side arose and spoke, he had known just 
 what to fear. A deep horror, and with it the 
 light of a new hope, had leaped into Aline's 
 eyes. From then had she besought Archi- 
 bald Bracken desperately, voice to voice ; 
 she could have pleaded with him no more 
 earnestly than did her expressive face and 
 eyes, asking of him the preposterous, the 
 impossible. All this of the emotional about 
 them, to him merely something outside, 
 fitted to those who could or would accept 
 it, inspired her with a compelling power. 
 Before the "woman, not the force which 
 moved her, Bracken trembled. He saw 
 her standing above him on the platform, 
 and his brain reeled. In a kind of vision 
 224
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 he beheld her again for a moment as he 
 had last looked up to see her stand sur- 
 rounded by her own kind, brilliant, beauti- 
 ful, and protected. His impulse was to 
 rise from his seat, to sweep her from the 
 platform, from this disgraceful company, 
 this foul atmosphere, actual and moral, to 
 her safe home. He writhed under the 
 bonds which held him. Could he, a tramp 
 among tramps, act and not compromise 
 her? Would she compromise herself de- 
 spite him ? Speak she should not. 
 
 Yet she was speaking, low and unstead- 
 ily at first, then thrillingly clear. The 
 room had the silence of the dead save for 
 her voice. 
 
 "I thought I could not speak to you, but 
 I must. I have a message to deliver to 
 one of you. I know you are not all to 
 blame for being here. Some one of you 
 may be able to repeat the very name of the 
 wretched being who drove you to this. It 
 is to him I speak. Suppose that wretched 
 creature were a woman as I am, and that 
 she learned what she had done ; suppose 
 her agony because of it were as great as 
 225
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 your suffering, and she came to seek you, 
 because in her despair she had no power 
 to keep away; suppose she stood here 
 before you holding out her hands and cry- 
 ing to you, ' Hate me forever if you will, 
 but take the curse of your ruin from my 
 life. I cannot bear it, I cannot carry it 
 and live.' " 
 
 He saw her arms stretched out to him as 
 in the past they had been outstretched a 
 hundred times. His spirit rose, and his 
 body followed. Her name had almost 
 escaped from his lips as he sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 The Superintendent lifted his hand from 
 the Bible, flinging it high toward Heaven. 
 
 " Another ! " he cried. " Seven this day ! 
 Praise God for the harvest." 
 
 Archibald Bracken staggered back at the 
 sound. For a moment he faltered, his eyes 
 fastened on the face of the woman stand- 
 ing motionless above him, her hands ex- 
 tended, her eyes, her face, her lips, her 
 whole being calling him. With a sudden 
 calmness, Bracken steadied himself and 
 stood upright among the counted. 
 226
 
 Links in a Chain. 
 
 Aline's body swayed and yielded, her 
 face dropped in her hands. The Superin- 
 tendent caught her arm and led her to a 
 chair, where she sank down, her face still 
 hidden. The doxology rolled over her 
 bowed head in waves of sound which she 
 did not hear. The louder echoes of tramp- 
 ing feet did not penetrate to her solitude. 
 When she moved at last, the hall was 
 empty and the Superintendent stood alone 
 before her, looking down gravely into her 
 face. A bit of folded paper lay on her 
 knee, to which he pointed. 
 
 " One of the boys dropped it there," he 
 said, delicately turning away. " Sister, re- 
 joice, the Lord himself opened your lips 
 this day." 
 
 Her heart contracting, her hands shak- 
 ing, Aline lifted the paper. Its contents 
 rolled from her trembling fingers. On her 
 knees, flaming out gloriously in the grimy 
 room, lay the missing jewel of her ori- 
 flamme. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 227

 
 
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