Part 5

“Well, I shall do nothing of the kind. The lives of myself and family are entirely my own affair, and no one need count on my giving the papers material with which to fill up their columns.”

“But--but the affair was important.”

“Important or not, it is mine and with me it shall die. It’s a shame, a shame I say, to send young girls to pry into one’s private life.” It was evident that this speech was from one who could suppress his feelings no longer. Nevertheless, I had grown hot and indignant at his words. At the same time I was becoming alarmed at the nearness of the door to me. This in a way prevented my pungent remarks from having the effect they otherwise would have had.

“If I were allowed to choose my assignments, Professor Symonds, I assure you I should not have chosen this one.” This retort was, perhaps, a trifle impudent, considering the fair treatment I had at first received, but it was made without thought, and I was sorry as soon as I realized what I had said.

His speech had caused him remorse, for he was no longer cold and phlegmatic. His attitude of aloofness changed suddenly and completely to fatherly kindness, which made itself felt as he tendered his apologies and again offered me a chair. It was my turn to assume indifference, for I saw now that I was mistress of the situation. I drew myself in, so to speak, smiled a hurt smile and seated myself.

“I thought you might throw a bit of light on Mr. Milton’s death,” I ventured again.

“The man is dead, why not let it go at that,” he suggested, for by this time he had become docile and his attitude suggested capitulation.

“But don’t you see,” I explained, “it’s my assignment, and I must take back something. If it doesn’t go with me you’ll only be harassed by others. Why not say just what you know?”

“Do you expect newspaper work to get you anywhere?” This was partly to change the subject, and partly to manifest some interest in me.

“Indeed, yes,” I replied, “the practice lays a foundation for better writing. Of course, there are things about it that I hate, such as this, but on the whole it is good for one. You see there is no waiting for an impulse to write, which seldom comes naturally to one. The work is there and it must be done. This forced writing teaches concentration and rapidity, while at the same time it keeps one awake to the movements of the day, nationally and internationally.” This was from my heart, for it was for this reason alone that I had associated myself with the press.

“Perhaps,” he said, “perhaps, but it robs girls of their modesty, and it teaches them to exaggerate events.” This brutally frank statement brought me perilously to the verge of tears. At the same time it brought the realization that this particular piece of news--if I succeeded in my purpose--must be reported correctly in every detail--there could be no exaggeration. And I wondered why I cared.

These thoughts must have shown in my eyes. There must have been something about my expression that made my friend sorry for me. I say friend, because I felt from this moment that he was my friend.

“But, of course,” he went on, “there are always exceptions. I know you are one and I hope you will remain one.” I thanked him and renewed my efforts to worm the desired information out of him. He explained that his aversion to newspapers was due to the pain he had but recently suffered from a great sorrow.

“Had I been a rich man instead of a poor professor there would have been no scandal published about my wife.”

“How could you have prevented it?” I asked innocently. I was not innocent, for I had heard much of papers being bought off by advertisers.

“By buying them off.”

“Then the story was true, was it not?”

His face reddened, he realized his admission.

“You are the first reporter who has been permitted to enter this house. I have treated you with courtesy and I trust you will spare me any further humiliation in this affair.” Such an appeal--it came straight from his heart, but how could I befriend him? I felt myself becoming entangled in a desperate situation. All that he said was true, but on the other hand I had been requested to handle the case carefully and procure the interview at any cost.

I had no doubt that I could obtain the story now, Professor Symonds was my victim or my friend, whichever I wished to make of him. The event rested with me; yet I could not forget with what confidence and assurance I had received the assignment together with full directions for finding the house. Where would I end? I played carelessly with the beads around my neck, pulled my hat a little further to the side, pretended to catch my veil tighter, and then smoothed the wrinkles out of the arms of my gloves; but I could not decide which road to take.

Professor Symonds was longing for a friend--a sympathizer. He was dying to talk--to unburden himself, and the moment seemed propitious. He gave an appealing look and without further protest began to talk.

“This is the story. I give it to you. Do with it what you will.” From that second, with me, love took the place of admiration, and I knew that he knew the story was safe.

“It is true that my wife eloped with Milton.” As he uttered these words his emotion overpowered him, and he dropped his head in his hands. It affected me so painfully that I tried to restrain him from harrowing his feelings any further. But it seemed as if he understood the sympathetic attitude of his visitor, and wished to confide in me. He continued:

“But there were circumstances that caused it. She was a good woman, a really good woman, but our tastes were entirely different. She loved the city and its closeness to ‘things’; I loved the country and its freedom from noise. She loved people; I loved solitude. And besides these differences there were things which you are too young to understand.”

I had the natural curiosity of woman and her native diplomacy. So I did not interrupt the continuity of his thoughts.

“Both men and women have strongly developed or even instinctive sex complexes and the physical call of a mate transcends the restrictions that herd instinct places upon our modern society. In other words, it is the elemental appeal that is too strong for the system of barriers society has thrown around modern life. We were congenial, yes, loving and loved, but our natures differed; our habits had not grown together, so our ways parted through no fault of either. Our emotional structures also differed, and the instinctive emotions dominated. Perhaps you will think this explanation incongruous, but I know it to be the truth, and the result of it all is what I am now facing. I see now that my selfishness was chiefly responsible. I was, by nature, the stronger of the two; it was in my power to influence my wife, but we drifted and the realization of the situation came too late.

“In her loneliness she had appealed to Milton and he responded. In him she found a companion with a kindred spirit. They both loved life and what it brought. Now that they are both dead there is only one thing I can do for them, and that is to preserve their reputations, and save them from the disgrace of a disclosure. The public only knows, from the letter found on Milton, that they loved each other; it does not and shall not know more.” His head was bent and his voice filled with anguish.

“If I had only known sooner I believe I could have saved her the tragic end. She was returning to me--returning to me, I am confident, for she had entered the garden before she swallowed the poison.”

I still did not speak or move and he talked on without a pause. But now he seemed to pull himself together, and I could see an increasing air of satisfaction and gratification in his demeanor, as he found himself confiding in a hearer who was growing more and more sympathetic.

“It is evident that Milton had left her. It was what such propensities always lead to and only what I had expected. Life to be successful must be regular and conventional. We humans are too susceptible to the opinions of others to ignore for long any irregularities, and, as I say, he had left her and gone to Washington. Perhaps he was returning to his wife or perhaps he had just grown tired; anyhow he had reached there before he heard that Helen was dead. He probably thought I’d kill him, so he saved me the trouble.

“Dear, dear, how I should love to do something for you,” I said involuntarily, urged by the flood of sympathy the tragic tale had evoked. Then I realized that Professor Symonds might misunderstand me and think my remark too forward.

“It isn’t a situation to be envied, is it?”

When he asked the question I was thinking of life and its perplexities; the happiness and sorrows that circumstances render without the power on our part either to aid or alter. Here was a man of rare intellectual qualities, a pleasing personality, position and--best of all--a soul; yet he, like others, must live and suffer apparently through no fault of his--but through the thoughtlessness of a pleasure-seeking wife. My sympathy was spontaneous. Is it any wonder that a warm friendship sprang up between us?

And is it needless to say there was no “scoop” for the paper? In fact, my days with the press were numbered. The little cottage needed a feminine touch, and I needed all the love Professor Symonds could give me. Yet I have never been able to fathom why he married me, for my eyes were dark but not luminous; my hair was light, not golden; I was thin and bony; I was tall, yet not erect; I wanted to be wise, but had lots to learn.

Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious punctuation and spacing errors have been corrected.

Page 29: “remarkd Mrs. Gary” changed to “remarked Mrs. Gary”; “in in the last two” changed “in the last two”

Page 30: “relief the monotomy” changed to “relief the monotony”

Page 47: “as she realizes that” changed to “as she realized that”

Page 49: “going to chuch” changed to “going to church”

Page 54: “she had believe it” changed to “she had believed it”

Page 70: “for there has never been” changed to “for there had never been”

Page 75: “sweet timber of a” changed to “sweet timbre of a”

Page 93: “his indelicate visit” changed to “this indelicate visit”