THE SUICIDE OF L----. ITS AFTER-EFFECT.
After much effort and following repeated calls with "not at home"
responses, I at last was able to meet one Miss Blank. Seated in her
private reception room, I listened respectfully to her recital of
vindication because of her present position, and then told her the
nature of my errand.
The door was partially open. A beautiful, very beautiful blonde girl
attired in pale blue stepped partly in, saying as she did so, "May I
come in. Miss Blank?" "No, not just now," was the answer. "I'm engaged
for the next few minutes." At her request I sang.
I sang a song entitled "My Mother's Voice." I was sitting where I had a
view of a portion of the stairway, and, as I sang, I saw a little blue
slipper and part of a dress. That girl sat there listening.
I soon left. Before doing so I asked if I might call again, and
received permission.
The following Sunday evening, after I had addressed a large audience in
the Presbyterian church and just as the meeting closed, two ladies
hastened forward and thus excitedly addressed the pastor (Reverend
S----) and me:
"Oh! we thought the meeting would never end. Do you know a girl shot
herself just now in Miss Blank's house? She may be living yet. Hurry!
You may be able to get there in time to save her soul before she dies."
I ran, without even my hat, the pastor quickly following. When we rang
the bell, Miss Blank came to the door and, throwing herself into my
arms, exclaimed:
"Oh! if I had only let her in! if I had only let her in! Mrs. Roberts,
it's the girl who asked to come in the other day when you were calling
on me."
"Is she living yet? Quick! let me see her. This is the Rev. Mr. S----
who accompanies me," I said.
"Too late! Mrs. Roberts, too late! She died in awful agony about twenty
minutes ago. Those two men in the hall whom you saw as you came in are
the coroner and the doctor. Oh! my God! my God! Pray, please pray for
her soul," wailed poor Miss Blank.
"Miss Blank, she's gone, never to return. We want to pray for your
precious soul," pleaded Brother S----.
"No, no, oh! no," wept Miss Blank, and nothing we could say or do would
induce her to kneel with us. She only clung the closer to me, and wept
and mourned piteously.
It was early morning before we left.
* * * * *
All that was mortal of beautiful unfortunate L---- had been removed to
the morgue, and, the name and address of her parents having been
discovered, the following telegram had been sent: "Daughter L---- died
suddenly. What disposition of remains?" As quickly as possible came
this reply: "Embalm. Leave for Eureka immediately."
(Father's name.)
On Monday afternoon I was once more with Miss Blank, now sufficiently
calmed to relate this:
"L---- was taken with a spell of despondency Saturday. [I was there
Friday afternoon.] It wasn't like her, for she usually was the life of
the house. She didn't get up all day Sunday. I went up after dinner to
try to jolly her up, and soon left her, as I thought, more cheerful.
Presently we all were startled by the firing of a pistol, followed by
some one screaming: 'Oh! my God, my God! what have I done? Help me,
please, for God's sake help me!' But she was soon past all earthly aid.
All of us were paralyzed with fear, as you may readily understand."
Then she wept, as few weep, whilst I also in tears sought to comfort
her and to point her to the merciful Savior, but she would have none of
him. All I could do was to wait patiently and pray.
I went to the undertaker's to view the remains. He and his wife
remarked that they had handled many a corpse, but none so beautiful as
this one. But I was grieving for the lost soul. Where, oh! where was it
now? Where, where were the others going?
The steamer arrived, and on it not alone the father but also the mother
of beautiful L----. No one had expected the mother. To me was assigned
the painful task of breaking the news to her. I believe I was the most
burdened woman on earth at that hour and time. Rev. S---- introduced me
to the stricken father in the hotel office, who presently took us up to
their room. To my dying day I shall see that scene. After the
introduction to the mother, the father and Brother S---- retired to
another room. I was standing there alone with the mother, who leaned
against the dressing-case, her hands behind her back, gripping the
woodwork. She was a magnificent, majestic-looking lady; the father also
was a tall fine-looking man. It was easy to discover whence the
daughter had inherited her beauty.
"Who are you?" she gasped.
I explained.
"Tell me, did you know my darling girl?" she inquired.
"No, dear lady, not in life, although I had seen her," I replied.
"Where? where had you seen her?" she next interrogated.
"In the house where she boarded," I answered.
"Was her husband with her?" she inquired.
"No, not that I heard of," was my reply
Next came that dreadful, dreadful question. She shrieked it:
"Tell me, madam, was--it--all--right--with--my--baby--girl?"...
My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I tried to answer. Not one
word could I utter. The mother with the exclamation. "O my God!" went
down in a heap on the floor and I with her. For a long time the silence
remained unbroken. She was the first to speak:
"It is so kind of you to come; so kind to help me in my terrible
trouble. God will reward you. I never can. Now, dear, I must have
particulars, if its kills me. To help get them, I must tell you this:
My L---- was my youngest, my petted, spoilt, baby girl. Her every wish
was gratified from the time she drew her first breath. Nothing was too
good for her, and no expense spared. We sent her to Europe to complete
her education. Did you ever hear her sing?"...
Erelong this soul-stricken mother lay in her bed sleeping as only the
grief-exhausted can sleep; then I left for a much-needed rest. After a
few hours I returned. When I left her late that night, she had sent for
poor terrified Miss Blank.
When I came down-stairs the following morning, Mrs. Baker told me that
some one was anxious to talk with me over the telephone--some one who
would not give her name, only her number. Going to the telephone, I
soon recognized Miss Blank's voice.
"Good morning, Mrs. Roberts," she begin. "I've been very anxious to get
you, but would not have your rest disturbed, as I was sure you must be
worn out. I've been talking to L----'s poor mother all night long, and
she has agreed to a funeral service which we can attend. Neither she
nor her husband will be present; _only our kind_. We want to know if
you will conduct it for us."
"Where, Miss Blank?" I inquired.
"In the undertaker's chapel tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock. They
are going to take her remains back to her old home on Monday's steamer.
Do say you will, Mrs. Roberts, _please_."
I consented, provided I should be allowed to give a message to the
living. She gladly acquiesced.
With difficulty I made my way through the crowd that blocked the street
in front of the undertaker's the following afternoon. None were
admitted but L----'s associates. There she lay, apparently sleeping
sweetly, but this was only the beautiful, fast-decaying mortal form.
The remains were surrounded by fragrant tributes of exquisite floral
pieces, and girls dressed in black robes, heavily veiled, and weeping
bitterly. With great effort I at last spoke and sang. I do not remember
if I had a text; I do know that _the message came to the living
straight from the throne of grace_. Even until recently some one has
occasionally reminded me that she was present on that occasion and that
it brought about her reformation. The father and mother departed with
their precious burden the following morning. They came early on board,
in order to avoid curious eyes. I spent the time with the mother in
their stateroom until they sailed. When that casket was lowered into
the hold of the steamer, I so obstructed the doorway that she could not
look past me.
Before our final parting the poor mother gave a farewell message for
other mothers. It was this:
"Mrs. Roberts, I was too indulgent, too weak, with my little girl. All
she had to do was to tease until she got her own way even though I knew
it would prove to be detrimental to her good. If I resisted or advised
ever so little, she would overrule every time.
"When she returned from Europe, she sang in our church choir and proved
to be a great attraction. She and the tenor singer, ---- ----, were
betrothed, and with our consent. He was a schoolmate of hers. For some
trifling offense on his part, she became angry and unfortunately showed
a relentless spirit; consequently, the breach widened.
"Poor darling! She was so impetuous, so impulsive. I have never quite
recovered from the shock I received when she suddenly announced her
marriage to an utter stranger--an educated young scoundrel, as we soon
learned to our sorrow. Papa and I decided to make the best of it now
the deed was done; so he took him into his employ in order that our
baby girl might be near us. He robbed us in less than six weeks of
several hundred dollars; then Papa told daughter that she was welcome
to her home as long as she lived, but that he must go; that she would
be compelled to choose. I know she did not want to; but, oh! she was so
proud, and she would not give in. She chose her husband, and _that was
the last I saw of her until_--Oh! I can not, can not bear it. Mrs.
Roberts! It is killing me!"
* * * * *
"Miss Blank knows him. She had more than once ordered him out of her
house for abusing L---- and living off her dreadful earnings...."
When the steamer was far away, almost out of sight, Brother S---- at
last turned to me and asked whether I had seen L----'s dairy, now in
her father's possession. "No," I replied; "I had no idea she had kept
one." Then, as we walked home, he repeated some recent entries in it. I
give them to you as best my memory serves me:
(Date) "Just as I feared: Bert has been grafting again and has lost his
job...."
(Date) "We're going to Spokane. My! but I'm homesick; I'd like to give
in, but I won't! I won't!..."
(Date) "Bert has secured a job at last. Better than nothing--clerking
in the soda fountain department of ----'s drug store. Hope he'll quit
grafting."
(Date) "I've a good position now in ---- ----'s cloak and suit house.
Afraid I can't keep it long, my health is so poor lately...."
(Date) "Bert and I had words tonight. He's quit. I suppose he had to."
(Date) "There's a very pleasant lady in the next bed to mine
[sanitarium]. I'm going back with her when she goes home, and until
Bert is on his feet again...."
(Date) "How much has happened since I last wrote in my diary! I've some
fine clothes and jewelry. Bert is sporting a suit of fine clothes and
diamond pin, but--I can't write any more."
(Date) "Miss Blank says Bert will have to keep away. I'm glad of it.
How I hate him!..."
(Much later) "A lady called yesterday. Wish I might have talked with
her. Sang about mother I wish, oh, how I wish--what nonsense I'm
writing...."
(Next morning) "I'm so wretched, so very wretched.... Oh! mama, mama,
mama! If you could only read between the lines--"
And that was all. No name was signed. But--we can all of us read
between the lines, yes all of us.