Photoplay (May 1921)

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Ask for special tuition rate and a FREE copy of "The Natural Speech Magazine." Largest and best school forstammerers in the world. Write tod.iy. Tba North. Wulero Sch«ol, 2364 Graod An. Milwuiin .Wis. He crossed to her and laid a clumsy hand upon her quivering shoulder — clumsy because he knew no matter how lightly he laid his hand upon her its touch was repugnant to her. "Come, Alethea," he said, in a voice from which all emotion had been squeezed, "it does no good to carry on in this way." At his touch, at his words, she sat suddenly upright sweeping a pillow or two to the floor, so that his hand, thus abruptly dismissed, hung lax at his side. He saw that her face was blotched with weeping. There was a white grained patch where her cheek had been pressed against the weave of the black silk pillow. Her fair hair fell in a stream over one shoulder. And even so with her face blotched with red and white patches, with her hair disheveled and her eyes liquid with tears she was beautiful. Even so, she was beautiful to him. "Oh, you can say that!" she cried. "You can well say that: not to carry on. You can say that because you hated him." "Nobody knows as well as you that I had reason to hate him."^' She laughed a little hysterically. "You always hated him, Hereward." Hereward at that challenge felt his thoughts driving back again to Basil, the boy — the boy alight with laughter, climbing the perilous wall, the boy whom he had carried home in his arms from school, at whose bedside he had sat. "No, not always," he said, "1 too once loved him." "Loved him! You who have never known what love is! No, you always hated him, Hereward — ever since you realized he wasn't following along the righteous path you trod — that all your family has trod, and that he made your own personal success seem as nothing because his own success in living was so much greater." "Success that ended in a pauper's grave, Alethea." "Oh, you can't see, Hereward. You never can see!" Again Hereward's thoughts flashed back to the way Basil had plunged into life while he, Hereward, stood on the side lines. That was what Alethea meant. Yes, he could see that well enough. Sometimes he had fancied that Basil dealt in a different currency than his own. Basil could buy with a smile things that Hereward could never buy — not with all the money in the world. But Hereward realized this well enough. Alethea was speaking again. "It is true that everything you touch may turn to gold, Hereward, but everything he touched turned to happiness." "You are charitable because he loved you." "Oh, he never, loved me as much as I loved him, Hereward!" Hereward felt a little sick at that confession tossed so lightly at him. Even if it were true why did she tell him, her husband. She might at least have spared him this. He gazed at her with brooding eyes. It almost seemed that she had dropped her cloak of mourning. She sat there, her eyes distant and shining, on her face a lovely lost look; her moist red lips were slightly parted. During the last two days he had hoped that now Basil was gone Alethea might turn to him again. Not at once of course. Slowly, slowly . . . but now that dear hope struggled and died within him. As she sat there she seemed consecrated to the memory of Basil. Was the man's triumph to persist after the very grave had claimed him? Resentment burned within Hereward, it grew, it caughthim suffocatingly at the throat. "You have never explained to me, Alethea, where you were the night Basil was killed," he cried out in his smouldering rage. "I told you I was at Marcia Lee's." "And how do I know that is true?" "Go telephone her. Telephone her now!" She pointed to the instrument on a table resting under its frippery of disguising silks and laces. "Marcia Lee is your best friend. .She would lie to shield you, Alethea, just as other people have lied to shield you." "Yes, as other people have lied to shield me," she repeated gravely. "You think then that I was with him that night?" she asked presently. "It is not only I who think so, Alethea. Everybody thinks so. Even the newspapers suspect it." "I wish to God it had been I!" she cried brokenly, and then turning to him with outstretched appealing hands, said, "Oh, don't you see, Hereward, that the need for lying is past now — now that Basil is dead? Can't we for once, you and I, have the truth between us?" He looked at her from his gray eyes dark; with pain. Even as yet he did not knowj whether he could believe her. "How I wish we could have the truth!" he e.xclaimed bitterly. She arose and walked past him down the room. She turned and he saw that heri lips were smiling. Yes, they could smile and he felt a groan rise from the depths of, him. He wanted to despise her and he couldn't. He could only remain anchored in that chair offering her a begrudged ad-j miration. There was that about her that caught and held him and made him her slave. Impossible to analyze these things,) impossible to dismiss them. And, h€ thought with self-contempt, must he always offer his love where it was not desired? — j or where it was tricked and betrayed? "Why, if it were not that I owed somci thing to you, Hereward," she said,.-,"t(| you and your name and the name of youi children, I'd go to the housetops and cr> aloud my love for Basil!" Hereward in that instant saw poignantlj and clearly the thing that Basil had hac and that he had missed: the love of woman freely given, poured at his feet as an offering and not the tawdry love, patterned to th« fireside, trapped out for the market, that he, Hereward, had been forced to buy. Alethea returned to the couch, to sii very quietly opposite him, her hands claspeci over her knee. "Hereward," she began, "tell me the truth: why did you hate Basil so bitterly?'^ "Because he tried to take you away froir, me." "You mean that winter I first met him?!i "Yes — that wretched winter!" She leaned forward, her eyes free froij tears now fixed closely upon him. "If that is the only reason you hated him then lister, to me, Hereward: It was not Basil whc wanted to take me away from you." "What do you mean?" "It was I who begged Basil to take with him. It was I who when he refused bought the ticket for the same boat he was sailing on." "But he .said when I found the ticket Alethea, when I accused him — " "Yes, it's not the first time, Hereward; that a man has lied to save a woman's honor — such honor as I had left. For there was no sense in denying that ticket. Yet had asked to see his first. There was th( other ticket in your hands. But he felt ij might make it a little easier for me if h.(( claimed that he had done the urging — noi I. He did not even know about my plani Every advertisement in riI()TOPI-4Y MAG.^ZI.NE is guaianteed.