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Newspaper Page Text
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THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
SHE LOVED MUCH
(Copyright, 1914, by the Newspaper
As we drove up to the place where
Eliene was going to find her babies
I noticed the undertaker's wagon be
fore the door and, swinging from the
knob, was a great bunch of white
roses tied with purple ribbons.
The thought of poor Eliene going
in there to take those children home
to her own barren arms, children
whose father had wronged both her
and the girl who was lying cold and
still in the plain coffin in the front
room, was inexpressibly appalling.
Eliene had said nothing about Har
ry or how she felt toward him. I won
dered if she could still care for him
in the least. It did not seem to me
that I could endure the sight of a
man who had wronged me in this
fashion. I thought of the last even
ing we had dinner with the Symones
and how care free Harry Symone
seemed and with what audacity he
even tried to flirt with me, and ut that
moment he must have known that
the poor little woman up here was
awaiting her hour of agony alone. I
wondered if all men are like this. Can
they forget all that they wish to for
get and be happy, without a thought
of the woman they have sacrificed to
their selfish pleasure?
Eliene and I went into the bed
room where the two little red atoms
that did not look like anything hu
man lay. Eliene took them both in
her arms, and her face became trans
figured with a maternal love, and all
the grief and hurt went out of it.
There is her joy, her comfort, her
consolation, I thought, and, after see
ing her thus, I never for one moment
thought that her way of disposing of
this matter was any other than right
While she was engrossed with the
children and talking with the trained
nurse over the best way to take them
home with her I slipped into the other
room where the dead mother lay.
The mysterious smile of eternal
knowledge was on the thin face, but
the lines of pain had not yet all gone
from it. In some way I fancied that
she was glad to die and it seemed to
me that she must know of that other
woman in the other room ready and
willing to "mother" her babies.
"They will have the care of their
own father," I whispered as I laid my
hand on the cold one's clasped hands
across her breast. Just then Eliene
called me and I went in to witness
the legal adoption of the children.
The old father of the girl came up
after the papers were signed and took
Eliene's hand. "You're a good wo
man, Mrs. Symone, and I'm glad my
girl's babies are yours to keep. It's
not many's the woman that would do
what you have this day, but the bless
ed mother will reward ye always."
"I'll take the same care of them as
though they were born of my flesh,"
said Eliene solemnly.
Not one word was said about Har
ry, and it was arranged that, under
the cover of darkness, the babies
were to be taken to Eliene's home.
As we got into the car, Eliene said
almost to herself: "I must hurry
home now and decide what I shall say
I looked at her in surprise; gone
was the indecisive, the bored look I
had always seen upon her face and,
while I knew she was suffering agony,
yet I also knew that, for the first time
in her luxurious, useless life, she had
begun to live.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
The Countess of Warwick will not
wear furs nor feathers, with the sin
gle exception of ostrich feathers.
A man with money to burn should
never use anything but safety