She was strangely calm. Only the pallid whiteness of her face, and a glitter to her dark eyes, showed any of the tumult seething within her. Alan and I both hung upon her words. Somehow it seemed unnecessary for us to talk. She shivered. Without a word Alan pulled the box on which he had flung his coat nearer the fire, and half assisted her to sit upon it.
"Shall I go upstairs and fetch you a chair?" he said.
"No! No! Oh, no!" For one instant she lost control of herself. The next moment she was as calm and restrained as a society matron serving tea.
Alan and I seated ourselves on the floor at her feet. The thunder and lightning had ceased, and but for the steady drip, drip of the rain, the night was placid and quiet.
For a long time it seemed to my overwrought nerves the woman sat there with her hands clasped loosely in her lap, her great eyes staring at a red glowing spot on the old stove. Once or twice she glanced apprehensively over her shoulder as though she expected the man she had slain to appear in the doorway behind her.
"I was born here, reared here, and married in this house," she said at last, "my little boy was born here. It was a beautiful old house then. Seeing it now, you can scarcely realize what it was in those days. When I was a girl it used to be full of young people laughing, dancing and enjoying life. We had husking bees in the barn, hallowe'en parties, dances, in the winter sleigh rides and Christmas trees."
"Many's the time I've coasted down that long hill and landed in a heap at the bottom. Then I married a man I adored. He worshipped me. He placed me on a pedestal, as something just a little more than mortal. He was an intensely religious man, perhaps a trifle austere, but because I loved society, young company, we continued to fill the home with guests. There was never a shadowy corner in the house like there is now — the lights were always bright. There were always laughing voices to be heard and music—" she spoke very slowly, in an almost pedantic fashion, as though choosing her words, and a bit uncertain of them. It was as though she were speaking a tongue not quite familiar to her. "When my little boy was born both my husband and myself were overjoyed. Even the fact that he was a fragile little fellow did not drown our happiness. For a year we battled to keep him alive — then he began to grow sturdy and rosy like the other children who came with their parents to visit us. About that time my husband became very absorbed in his profession. He was compiling a historical volume of intense interest to himself. Because I was lonesome I used to go into the city quite often to the theatre — generally to matinées — and come back at dinner time. Several times I went later in the day, and remained overnight."
"I did not realize then that he was jealous of me — that he was suspicious. If only he had said something to me — but he never did — until too late I I was very innocent in those days."
"Principally because I did not wish to disturb him, or impose upon my friends, the few times I remained overnight in the city, I stayed in a small hotel, walking to and from the theatre alone."
"Imagine my horror when, one night, as I turned the corner to go to the hotel (which was in a side street), a man put his hand on my shoulder, and before I could make any protest, informed me I was under arrest."
"Too dazed and bewildered to demand the reason for this outrage, I did nothing but declare my innocence. I was dragged downtown to the police court, and put upon the stand before a grinning, gaping crowd of spectators. I was asked obscene questions by that man lying upstairs, sneered at because of my protestations of virtue, then thrown in a cell with two drunken prostitutes and a half-insane old woman. I was so ashamed, so horror-stricken, yet so certain of my release in the morning, that I did not telephone my husband of what had happened. It never occurred to me that I would be branded as a woman of the streets and sentenced to prison. But I was! I was! Judge MacPherson — a man of the world who should be able to distinguish between women — laughed at me, and with one wave of his smug hand, with one word sentenced me to six months' confinement and a lifetime of hell I Never so long as I live will I forget his face!"
"That same night my baby was taken ill, my husband tried to find me — his search discovered to him the fact that I was in jail for soliciting on the street!"
"Then the jealousy — the suspicions he had felt for me burst into flame, making him ready to believe the worst of me."
"I never saw him but once after that. That one time he denounced me as a woman unfit to live — as a thing too vile to breathe the same air as my child. Then he told me the boy was dead. Of course, he secured my release, but it was too late."
"When I came out of prison, I went to Judge MacPherson's home. I remember he was sitting at dinner. He was very annoyed at having his meal disturbed by a pale, bedraggled, slovenly-looking woman. He was at no pains to hide his annoyance. I told him what he had done to me, an innocent woman, and I demanded that he right this wrong."
"There was the same smiling sneer on his face as when he sentenced me."
"Just how can I do this, my dear lady?" he said.
"Go to my husband," I cried wildly, I had not learned to restrain myself then — "tell him that I am innocent — absolutely innocent. My baby is gone — but there is still a chance for me, if he will take me — you must explain to him — you must make him understand!"
"He laughed — laughed at me."
"Old stuff, my dear!" he sneered, "old stuff. Why can't you women think of something original? Of course, you are all innocent, none of you will even admit to a first offense. I'm sorry if your child is dead, that is, if you had one, but I certainly won't help to hoodwink a man — who evidently is a person of principle. If you don't want to suffer, behave yourself; that's all I have to say. Good evening!"
"Then he showed me the door. I think I went insane. I remember standing outside and pounding on it, screaming maledictions on him, shrieking to him that he must clear me, that he must give me back my good name. Then some one seized me, and I was dragged away to the station-house again. I left it under a six months' sentence for disorderly conduct."
"When I got out this time, dazed, broken, aged, I realized that nothing I could ever do or say would reinstate me. This second arrest, caused by the man who had ruined me, had branded me forever and forever. I learned my husband had divorced me, disposed of everything in our home and sailed to France."
"Those who had been my friends passed me on the street without recognition. There was no one in the world I could turn to. I was practically without means. To be sure, I owned this house, but I did not have the money to keep it in repair, and I could not live in it. The memories it recalled were maddening. Then, too, I felt everyone knew my story, and I could not face their scornful glances."
"Time and again I was tempted to kill myself, but one thing always held me back; my undying soul-eating hatred for the man who had passed judgment on me."
"One day I realized why this monstrous thing had happened to me. I was to be the instrument with which to save innumerable women from a fate similar to mine! It was to be my task to rid the world of the viper who destroyed innocence and laughed at his handiwork. I almost became happy in contemplation of what I would do. What did it matter to me that to accomplish his destruction I must accomplish my own! The thing he had branded me, I became in reality. I was beautiful; soon I learned I was desirable, and I could be fascinating."
"I studied all the arts and wiles of the oldest profession in the world, and determined to sell myself to the highest bidder. My education, my knowledge of society, my culture all stood me in good stead. Understand, I always stayed within the law, I was never crude. I took no chances of another arrest. My new name, the one I adopted when I became of the demi-monde, I kept unsmirched, if you could call it that. I became a leader in the set where mistresses laughed at wives and where lovers were more popular than husbands."