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Newspaper Page Text
CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
BURY YOUR GRIEF "DECENTLY AND IN ORDER" AS YOU DO
(Copyright, 1915, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association.)
"But Mary, dear, you could not be
so philosophical about Jt all if you did
not work." Mary andI were still
talking of our griefs in the loss of
'Perhaps not, Margie, and for this
reason I want to urge you to do
something that will take up your time
and engross your thought to the ex
clusion of yourself. When a woman
begins to pity and worry about her
self and her trials she is lost."
"But what can I do, Mary? My
work in this apartment does not take
an hour a day with the maid that I
now have and the help that Aunt
Mary gives me."
"I have always thought you could
"Before I was ill both Pat Sullivan
and Mr. Hatton urged me to give
them the contents of my little book
for publication, but I felt I could not
do it, besides I do not believe I could
possibly be so truthful in my estima
tions of myself and others if I knew
that some one else was going to read
"Can't you take some of them out
and make a story of it?"
"I don't know, Mary. Some way I
feel that all the 'confessions' that
have been written, from Rousseau to
Mary McLane, have been made with
the express intention of impressing
the reader they were not truths, but
things that the writers wanted the
readers to think were truth.
"My little book, Mary, contains my
inmost heart's desires, my most se
cret longings, things that I hardly
own to myself. I have written down
just exactly what I think of all of you
and how I regard life."
"Mercy. That would certainly
make interesting reading. Who is
the hero and who is the villain of
your story' I suppose, of course, the
hero is Dick.
"Yes, dear, Dick is the hero and
the villain also, just as all of us are -always
both virtuous and vile. Mary,
I don't believe that any one in the
world, that is any normal person, is
ever perfectly virtuous.
"The trouble is that we women so
often mistake virtues for virtue. We
want our husbands to be blameless,
forgetting that means superhuman
indeed, I might say inhuman.
"Virtue, to my mind, has always
stood for the good that is in us, irre
spective of the evil that might lie
sleeping there also."
"You are perfectly right, Margie.
We think we want a virtuous man for
a husband and then when we get an
oyster for ours one who never by
any possibility can be found prowling
around the oyster bed fighting other
gentlemen oysters and making love
to lady oysters we grow very tired
of his inanimity and wish that he
would do something if even it was
only to burst his shell and let the salt
water drown him."
I laughed as I said : "Mary, you are
mixing your metaphores. You can't
drown an oyster in salt water. My
dear, salt water is his native heath."
And then I stopped short. Was that
I who was laughing. It did not sound
real, for it was the first time I had
laughed since my baby had come
from and gone out into the nowhere.
I caught my breath sharply and Mary
looked up quickly.
"Yes, yes, dear, I know it seems al
most a sacrilege- to laugh or even
smile when one has passed through
suffering as terrible as ours, but, Mar
gie, here lies the whole story: We
have passed through it. It is over;
the wound has been made and now
we must do everything possible to
heal it. In some of us it probably
takes longer than in others, and
some of us will bear a scar that will