Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 January 1915 — The Governor’s Lady A Novelization of Alice Bradley's Play [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Governor’s Lady A Novelization of Alice Bradley's Play

A Novelization of Alice Bradley's Play

By GERTRUDE STEVENSON

Illustrations from Photographs of the Stage Production

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U CHAPTER X—Continued. Katherine quailed before thia .sudden outburst. Then the hope of Influencing the woman to divorce her hueband spurred her on and she replied : "Yes, there is." “Is she —” Mary was unprepared for the admission in spite of all she had said. Her voice broke— 'ls she young?” “Yes,” came from Katherine. Even at that moment ft occurred to her that the situation was unparalleled — this wife asking her —"the other woman” —about herself. “Many years’ difference in our ages?” ”1 think so.” ”ls she pretty?" "People say she is.” ~~ Mary experienced a sudden revulsion of feeling. “I don’t believe it,” she cried, refusing to believe what wae not pleasant to believe. “Dan Slade wouldn’t You’re mistaken.” - ... As Katherine made no reply, she went on. "But you seem to be sure?" “I’m certain," answered Katherine, evenly and without emotion. “Do you know her?” The lace at Katherine’s throat fluttered with her rapid breathing. “I—yes, slightly." “Why. Dan Slade have another woman in my old place! So that's it?’ as Katherine remained silent. “I'm much obliged. I’ll keep my word. He can have his divorce any way he wants it. She can have him and his name and ( his money," her voice became shill. “Here, I’ll give you something to give him," and she darted into the adjoining bedroom. “It will remind her of something she hasn’t got —his youth! His youth! -His youth! See?” and she thrust before Katherine’s eyes the’ picture of Dan Slade when they were first married, the picture she had al ways worn. “That’s the way he looked when he was young. Tell her she can keep it.” And she forced the brooch into Katherine’s reluctant fingers. “She can see what she’s missed! Well. I’m done with it—and with both of them. There!" and weak from her frenzied outburst, she sank into a chair. There was intense silence for a moment. Katherine stood as if petrified. Mary sat with brooding eyes, thinking. She was the first to speak, trying hard to be brave. “Weil, there's one comfort. It ain’t as though I had any children. Who’d ever have thought we would have come to this —here in this house. If I had had a baby, here’s where it would have been born —and that s the real reason I stick to this house —it ain’t spunk. - "We were both very young," she talked meditatively, more to herself than tb Katherine. “I was awfully happy. I couldn’t wish you any better, dear," and she turned impulsively to the girl, who sat amazed, breathlessly watching her, “than hoping to have a child by some young man you cared* for. There’s no happiness like it. But one day there wae an accident in the mine and they came and told me he was hurt —and I thought, p’raps, he was dead —and —my sudden fear for him robbed us of our little child and me of all the hope of ever—” Her voice broke with the agony of all childless good .women since the beginning of time. ••See —in there," she pointed through the open door into the next room, “in the bureau drawer —the one by the window—there’s all the little things I got ready years and years ago," her voice quivered piteously. “And now I’m old and there’s another woman — a younger,” the tears were streaming down her cheeks now and Katherine’s heart ached in sympathy with her. The girl’s throat was dir and her eyes blinded by tears as she repeated over and over again to her accusing con-

science: “I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” "If we’d only had children,” Mary sobbed, losing herself in complete collapse. “Nothing counts but children. They’re all we get out of marriage when we’re old. If we’d only had children, he couldn’t have left me like this," her shoulders shook. Katherine started to her feet, unable longer to bear the sight of the woman's suffering. “Don’t cry,'Mrs. Slade, don’t cry,” she pleaded. “My God!” Mary exclaimed. "How am I a-goin’ to live out my life! I can’t. I can’t. I’m used to him, and now he’s going to have another woman near him.” There was renunciation and anguish and anger in her outburst. "And I’ve lived with him all these years. I can’t help lovin’ him,” she sobbed. Katherine watched her, aghast at the vision of a love euch as she had never before realized. The hot tears filled her eyes and her lips trembled. Unable to fight any longer, she stretched out her hand and touched the older woman gently, almost reverently. “Oh, please—please don’t cry like that," she begged. “I can’t stand it. Oh, please don’t,” and suddenly her emotions swept away her control — her remembrance of why ehe had come—of everything but this slender, sobbing little woman. She flung her arms around Mary, burying her face on her shoulder. The woman in her rose up and rebelled at what she bad been about to do. Love, not of the world, mastered the worldly in her, as the tears overflowed. - "Mrs. Slade, you fight,” she sobbed, breathlessly. “Never mind what! You fight! He loves you best after all. I’ve seen that. Don’t you give in! You’ll get him back. She’s an out-and-out bad, heartlees, selfish creature. She’s bad—bad, stifling every good, honest impulse for money—money! You’re right to hate it. It is a dirty thing. If he were poor she wouldn’t look at him. Don’t you mind and don’t you cry, Mrs. Slade. You fight—fight them —all.” and she loosened her arms and sank sobbing and heartbroken, into a chair, throwing her head on her outstretched arms in a perfect abandon of repentance and grief. For a few moments the two women eobbed brokenly. Mary was the first to recover. "There, there,” she cried, patting Katherine tenderly on the shoulder, “don’t you cry for me." Suddenly Hayes appeared in the doorway. He looked first at Mary, then at Katherine. Katherine, her face still buried, her sobs still uncontrolled, had not heard him open the door. One sight of the two women was enough to convince him that in the encounter the stronger had been defeated and that the gentle little woman whom he loved had come off the victor. Mary stood looking from Hayes to Katherine tn bewildered perplexity. Suddenly her eyes lighted with a thought. She began to read her answer in Bob’s eyes, but he turned to avoid her glance. She looked again at the sobbing girl and as she did so the conviction came to her that Katherine was the woman her husband was planning to marry. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and turned questlontngly again to Bob. But Hayes could not meet her eyes. Suddenly Mary pointed ah accusing finger at Katherine’s bowed bead. “She! Oh-h!” she gasped. Katherine, unconscious of the revelation that had just taken place, was still sobbing bitterly, but with sweeter tears than she had shed for many, many years. The sight of the girl’s misery called for all the treasures of love and sympathy tn Mary’s nature, sweetened by long years of forgiving and self-sacrifice. “There, there, there," she crooned,

CHAPTER XI.

as she patted Katherine’s head. Overcome with an emotion she could not control. Katherine clasped her arms about her comforter and wept softly and quietly on her breast. Bob, too surprised to believe his own eyes, came up to her. “Katherine!’’ he exclaimed. “Oh. Bob, I’m so ashamed,” Katherine confessed as she got to her feet and stumbled into his arms, crying out for forgiveness and the love she had so cruelly and so thoughtlessly flung aside. “I understand, I understand.” Bob was very gentle and forgiving as he took her in his arms. “I love you, Bob,” she sobbed. *T don’t care who hears me say it I don’t care. I love you." “Come,” he said, leading her tenderly toward the door. "We’ll talk it over on the way home."

Before Bob could open the door it was pushed in from the outside, and as Katherine looked up, she looked straight into the eyes of Dan Slade. For a moment the room was electric with the intensity of the situation. Then the girl lifted her head proudly and met Slade’s eyes again. In them he saw a light he had never seen there before, a light of soft tenderness and deep joy. a look that made his heart start as he realized what he had “Good morning, Ms. Slade,” she said coldly as Bob led her out into the summer sunshine and to life and love. . As Slade, hat in hand, stood gazing at his wife, Mary realized that for the first time in all their married life she had the advantage. For once the roles of the humble and the domineering were reversed. There was a long pause, awkward only for Slade, for Mary was quite at ease. He coughed several times, and then, in a manner he thought quite appropriate, asked: “What did that girl come here for —Miss —er —” “Oh —forgotten her name?” came from Mary, mockingly. “Miss Strickland came just for a visit.” "Well, what did she want?” Slade demanded. "She came to find out what I meant to do.” There was a world of irony in Mary’s tone. “What has that got’ to do with her? I don’t approve of a woman coming into my house to find out what you— I don’t like it! It’s a bit of impudence. What else did she have to say ? Did she —er —’’ “She’s not a very confidential girl,” returned Mary, evasively. “I see. So she and Robert have made up?" Slade considered this rather a master stroke. By continuing such questions he might get at the real state**of affairs. “Yes.” “Wtell, well —I’ll have to do something for them.” Slade was paternally patronizing, but he did not deceive Mary. “Your business out here today must be very urgent What is it?” Slade tried frantically tp find a reason for Ms visit. .When he had left town it was for the one reason of trying to bully Mary Into leaving the cottage and agreeing to a divorce. With the - complexion of matters so changed, he was at a complete loss to explain his visit. He was irritated and annoyed. He was not used to having the tables so completely turned on him. More than that, the little cottage never looked more inviting. As a matter of fact, Slade had often found the demands of his new life considerable of a nuisance, and as a whiff of the savory lamb stew came to his nostrils, a memory of the peace and contentment of the old life flashed through his mind. Nothing at the club had been especially tasty of late. More than that, the drive down had given him an appetite. “Cooking a stew, Mary?" he asked rather abruptly and Inconsequentially. “Just one of my old stews,” Mary’s voice was Indifferent. She was thoroughly disgusted with her husband, now that she knew just what he had planned to do. Jealousy and outraged pride were in her heart. This man, for whom she had worked and whose very faults and failings she had loved, had been deliberately planning to thrust her aside for a woman who bad enjoyed only the sweets of life, a woman whose youth and beauty and social position put Mary completely out of the contest. The very thought was salt in her wounded heart. “11l stay to dinner, if I may,” announced Slade, removing his gloves and laying aside his coat "Certainly. Take your old chair. If you like.” There was none of the enthusiasm that might have been in Mary’s voice if he had come earlier in the day. She was formally, painstakingly polite. “You can talk over your business while we eat” Slade watched his wife from under lowered lids as he ate. He feared that Mary knew everything. This calm, constrained atmosphere .was more baffling than an emotional out-’ burst would have beep. "Why did you come, Dan?" Mary waa rather enjoying his discomfiture. "Oh, yes, I —l'll take my coffee now, if I may. good and strong." Mary dropped in two lumps and the right amount of cream, more from long habit than any desire to please him. ’1 came out here to— Do you know I rather like my dinner at noon boor, like we used to have it here. Aren't you eating?" “Oh, yes, Ftt ent," replied Mary. came out.” | (TOBI