Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Dec 1916)

MOTION PICTURE CLASSIC THAT NIGHT THEY RODE FROM NEVER-NEVER LAND AGAINST THE WESTERING SUN Madge saw John’s hand creep stealthily to his belt. She knew the skulking meanness of the man — the black blood in his veins. And she drew forth her own gun. There came a sharp explosion, a dense puff of smoke, and Red John lay lumpily still upon the ground. From under his cooling heart there crawled and oozed a deathly stream of blackish red. That night they rode from NeverXever Land against the westering sun. Ahead of them lay the proud title of the Dukedom of Maldon — a heritage of wealth and beneficent years. Back . of them reached the blood-red tares of murder and adultery— lawless passions and the fruits thereof. People called her “queer” — “a woman with a past” — “an unhappy creature.” Even the tenantry, to whom she was all bounty and loving kindness, questioned her. Her mouth, like a pale pink flower now, smiled easily, but the dulled yellow of her cat’s eyes looked forth, shadowed with a vast tragedy. Life had laid brutal hands upon her. Her own vehement passions had seized upon and annihilated her. The ancient superstitions of her tribe assailed her and she came to dread the hour of high noon. And two months after their return to Maldon Towers Harold was brought in from the hunting field to die. Only as he lay upon his last bed did the glorious eyes blaze again with a final, surging appeal ; and when they closed his ardent, glazing orbs, she bent under the grief as tho stricken to the very earth. There followed dreary days when she sat in the family pew and listened, avidly, to the holy words, hungering for some token of absolution — craving peace for her troubled heart and peace for the man she had worshiped. She grew as thin as a reed, and her face was formed on the delicate lines of a cameo, save where two bright scarlet spots touched her cheeks. But she seemed to stay strong and her eyes were on fire with resolve. Outside the church, one warm, midsummer day, she stood talking to the archbishop. "I desire to give all of my property, real and personal, to the church and to charities,” she was saying; “I ” The chimes in the tower tolled sonorously out. It was the minute of high noon. The archbishop looked up at them with a smile of pleasure on his reverend face. When he looked down All this passed in that eternal, transitory Moment Before, and the eyes of the Adjudger turned earthward that He might behold a thing held up to Him all stained with human passions and scarred with human wrongs. What He did with it we do not know. But upon tlie dead, once passionate face of the sorry Duchess of Maldon there strayed, benignantlv, the hand of a tender peace. (Thirty-eight) k -*v.'