"You spared me. I did not you."
"No, you did the right thing," Lolly replied. "If I had told you then
what I knew--that Hamilton was a married man--I might have saved you
this."
There was silence between us for a time, and then Lolly said:
"Did you know that Marshall Chambers is married? He married a rich
society girl--a girl of his own class, Nora."
"Lolly, I don't know what to do. I think I am going to die," I said.
Lolly threw down her cigarette, and came and stood over me.
"Listen to me," she said. "I'll tell you what _you_ are going to do,
Nora Ascough. You are going to brace up like a man. You're going to be
a dead-game sport, as O'Brien said you were. _You_ have something to
_live_ for. You can start all over again. I wish that I could, but _I_
have cashed _my_ checks all in."
I looked up at her. There was something in her ringing voice that had
a revivifying effect upon me. It aroused as the bugle that calls a
soldier to arms.
"What have I to live for that you have not?" I asked her.
"You can _write_," she said. "You have a letter in your pocket
addressed to posterity. Deliver it, Nora! Deliver it!"
"Tell me how! O Lolly, tell me how!"
"Get away from this city; go to New York. Cut that man out of your
brain as if he were a malignant cancerous growth. Use the knife of a
surgeon, and do it yourself. Soldiers have amputated their own legs and
arms upon the battle-field. You can do the same."
She had worked herself up to a state of excitement, and she had carried
me along with her. We were both standing up now, our flashing eyes
meeting. Then I remembered.
"I have no money."
She dipped into her stocking, and brought up a little roll.
"There, take it! I'll not need it where I'm going."
Then I told her I had no clothes, and she filled her suitcase for me.
"Now," she said, "you are all ready. There's a train leaving about
seven. You'll get to New York to-morrow morning. O'Brien will be there
to meet you. I'll telegraph to him after I've put you on the train."
"Come with me, Lolly."
"I can't, Nora. I'm going far away."
O Lolly! Lolly! little did I dream how far. Two weeks later, riding
in an elevated train, I chanced to pick up a newspaper, and there I
learned of Lolly's suicide. She had shot herself through the heart
in a Chicago hotel, leaving a "humorous" note to the coroner, giving
instructions as to her body and "estate."
I was in the Chicago train whirling along at the rate of sixty miles an
hour. I lay awake in my berth and stared out at a black night; but in
the sky above I saw a single star. It was bright, alive; and suddenly I
thought of the Star of Bethlehem, and for the first time in many days,
like a child, I said my prayers.
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|Transcriber's note: |
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|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. |
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