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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, April 16, 1917, LAST EDITION, Image 26',
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Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
TRAGEDIES DECIDE DOUBTFUL MATTERS.
For a moment little book, I saw
those hands moving frantically and
then a wave hid them from sight I
looked again for the sleek head of
Dick near the raft and realized with
a mingled feeling of joy and fright
that he had started to the rescue.
It seemed to me that the life-savers
were hours getting their boat
launched. Would Dick be able to
hold Malcolm until the life-savers
came, I wondered. "How will I feel
if he cannot?" I said to myself. "Oh,
God, what will I do if I must choose
Altogether I seemed to be acting
a part in which I had no volition.
Certainly now had come the climax
of my more or less tumultuous life.
Strange, isn't it, little book, what
things come into one's mind at such
crises. My teeth were chattering, my
heart was beating like a trip ham
mer. I had waded out into the wa
ter until every incoming wave took
me off my feet, and yet all the time
another Margie Waverly was, in a
detached way, analyzing the strange
tragedy that had come into the life
of that other Margie.
The head far out almost beyond
the pier was bobbing up again, but
you could see Malcolm was in great
distress and growing weaker all the
time. Dick was swimming with
somewhat unsteady strokes toward
hhn and it seemed to me he, too, was
overtaxing his strength.
Upon the shore there was great ex
citement and the boat was just be
ing put off -There was a cheer for
both men that rang to me and I won
dered if either man heard it.
"Keep up courage. We're coming,"
some one shouted.
The boat passed very near to me.
"Better get in shore, lady. We can't
spend time to pick you up," said one
of the men.
'I'm all right," I answered, and
then I grew cold.
Dick had deliberately turned and
was swimming back.
Evidently the men in the boat did
not see him, for they went on toward
where Malcolm had disappeared. A
man shot over the side of the boat
as I looked again.
"Don't let him drown, don't let him
drown," I shouted, not realizing for
the moment that by no possibility
could those men out there hear me.
I could not see what was happening.
A wave took me off my feet again
and I got a sensation of strangling.
I did not lose my head, however, but
struck out for the surface." When I
came to the top I saw the men evi
dently still hunting for Malcolm and
Dick swimming toward me with
calm, even strokes.
For a moment such a wave of hate
dashed over me I wished Dick would
drown before my sight. That wish
was an awful thing to come into the
mind of any wife, little book, but I
wonder how many wives have wished
it before me. Surely many, many
women have gone through with the
same situation in which I found my
self. They have found that their hus
bands are cowards men not worthy
of loving, and perhaps they, like I,
have beeit put to the torture of see
ing the men they thought worthy of
their love dying before their eyes
and they were powerless to help.
My God, little book, in those few
minutes I lived a lifetime, for I must
confess to you all the time my heart
was clamoring so loudly that I could
not even hear the bomb of the waves.
"The man you love is dying and the
man you hate is coming to you, a liv
I strained my eyes toward the life
boat. I saw them lift over the side a
limp figure and I turned dejectedly
toward the shore.
"At least I'll be true to myself and
tell Dick I loved the man he heart-