[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Then she faced Allie, wonderingly, with all a woman's sympathy, andsomething else that Allie sensed as a sweet and poignant wistfulness."Are you—Neale's sweetheart?" she asked, very low."Oh—please—find him—for me!" sobbed Allie.The tenderness in this woman's voice and look and touch was what Allie neededmore than anything, and it made her a trembling child.How strangely,hesitatingly, with closing eyes, this woman reached to fold her in gentlearms.What a tumult Allie felt throbbing in the full breast where she laid herhead."Allie Lee!.and he thinks you dead," she murmured, brokenly."I willbringhim—to you."When she released Allie years and shadows no longer showed in her face.Hereyeswere tear-wet and darkening; her lips were tremulous.At that moment therewassomething beautiful and terrible about her.But Allie could not understand."You stay here," she said."Be very quiet.I will bring Neale."Opening the door, she paused on the threshold, to glance down the hall first,and then back to Allie.Her smile was beautiful.She closed the door andlockedit.Allie heard the soft swish of silk dying away.26Beauty Stanton threw a cloak over her bare shoulders and, hurriedly leavingthehouse by the side entrance, she stood a moment, breathless and excited, inthedark and windy street.She had no idea why she halted there, for she wanted to run.But the instantshegot out into the cool night air a check came to action and thought.Strangesensations poured in upon her—the darkness, lonesome and weird; thewailing windwith its weight of dust; the roar of Benton's main thoroughfare; and the low,strange murmur, neither musical nor mirthful, behind her, from that huge hallshe called her home.Stranger even than these emotions were the swelling andaching of her heart, the glow and quiver of her flesh, thrill on thrill,deep,like bursting pages of joy never before experienced, the physical sense of atouch, inexplicable in its power.Page 193 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlOn her bare breast a place seemed to flush and throb and glow."Ah!" murmuredBeauty Stanton."That girl laid her face here—over my heart! What was Ito do?"she murmured."Oh yes—to find her sweetheart—Neale!" Then she setoff rapidly,but if she had possessed wings or the speed of the wind she could not havekeptpace with her thoughts.She turned the corner of the main street and glided among the hurryingthrong.Men stood in groups, talking excitedly.She gathered that there had beenfights.More than once she was addressed familiarly, but she did not hear what wassaid.The wide street seemed strange, dark, dismal, the lights yellow and flaring,thewind burdened, the dark tide of humanity raw, wild animal, unstable.Abovethelights and the throngs hovered a shadow—not the mantle of night nor thedarkdesert sky.Her steps took familiar ground, yet she seemed not to know this Benton."Once I was like Allie Lee!" she whispered."Not so many years ago."And the dark tide of men, the hurry and din, the wind and dust, theflickeringlights, all retreated spectral—like to the background of a mind returnedtoyouth, hope, love, home.She saw herself at eighteen—yes, Beauty Stantoneventhen, possessed of a beauty that was her ruin; at school, the favorite of ahostof boys and girls; at home, where the stately oaks were hung with silver mossand the old Colonial house rang with song of sister and sport of brother,wherea sweet-faced, gentle-voiced mother—"Ah.Mother!" And at that word the dark tide of men seemed to rise andswellat her, to trample her sacred memory as inevitably and brutally as it hadusedher body.Only the piercing pang of that memory remained with Beauty Stanton.She was apart of Benton.She was treading the loose board-walk of the great and vileconstruction camp.She might draw back from leer and touch, but none the lesswas she there, a piece of this dark, bold, obscure life.She was a cog in thewheel, a grain of dust in the whirlwind, a morsel of flesh and blood for thehungry maw of a wild and passing monster of progress.Her hurried steps carried her on with her errand.Neale! She knew where tofindhim.Often she had watched him play, always regretfully, conscious that hedidnot fit there.His indifference had baffled her as it had piqued herprofessional vanity.Men had never been indifferent to her; she had seen themfight for her mocking smiles.But Neale! He had been stone to her charm, yetkind, gracious, deferential.Always she had felt strangely shamed when hestoodbareheaded before her.Beauty Stanton had foregone respect.Yet respect waswhatshe yearned for.The instincts of her girlhood, surviving, made a whitedsepulcher of her present life.She could not bear Neale's indifference andshePage 194 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhad failed to change it.Her infatuation, born of that hot-bed of Bentonlife,had beaten and burned itself to destruction against a higher and betterlove—theonly love of her womanhood.She would have slaved for him.But he had passedherby, absorbed with his own secret, working toward some fateful destiny, lost,perhaps, like all the others there.And now she learned that the mystery of him—his secret—was thesame old agony oflove that sent so many on endless, restless roads—Allie Lee! and hebelieved herdead!After all the bitterness, life had moments of sweetest joy.Fate was being alittle kind to her—Beauty Stanton.It would be from her lips Neale wouldhearthat Allie Lee was alive—Beauty Stanton's soul seemed to soar with therealization.of how that news would uplift Neale, craze him with happiness,change his life, save him.He was going to hear the blessed tidings from awomanwhom he had scorned.Always afterward, then, he would think of Beauty Stantonwith a grateful heart.She was to be the instrument of his salvation.HoughandAncliffe had died to save Allie Lee from the vile clutch of Benton; but toBeauty Stanton, the woman of ill-fame, had been given the power.She gloriedinit.Allie Lee was safely hidden in her house.The iniquity of herestablishmentfurnished a haven for the body and life and soul of innocent Allie Lee.BeautyStanton marveled at the strange ways of life.If she could have prayed, ifshehad ever dared to hope for some splendid duty, some atonement to soften thedark, grim ending of her dark career, it would not have been for so much asfatehad now dealt to her.She was overwhelmed with her opportunity.All at once she reached the end of the street.On each side the wall oflightedtents and houses ceased [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Then she faced Allie, wonderingly, with all a woman's sympathy, andsomething else that Allie sensed as a sweet and poignant wistfulness."Are you—Neale's sweetheart?" she asked, very low."Oh—please—find him—for me!" sobbed Allie.The tenderness in this woman's voice and look and touch was what Allie neededmore than anything, and it made her a trembling child.How strangely,hesitatingly, with closing eyes, this woman reached to fold her in gentlearms.What a tumult Allie felt throbbing in the full breast where she laid herhead."Allie Lee!.and he thinks you dead," she murmured, brokenly."I willbringhim—to you."When she released Allie years and shadows no longer showed in her face.Hereyeswere tear-wet and darkening; her lips were tremulous.At that moment therewassomething beautiful and terrible about her.But Allie could not understand."You stay here," she said."Be very quiet.I will bring Neale."Opening the door, she paused on the threshold, to glance down the hall first,and then back to Allie.Her smile was beautiful.She closed the door andlockedit.Allie heard the soft swish of silk dying away.26Beauty Stanton threw a cloak over her bare shoulders and, hurriedly leavingthehouse by the side entrance, she stood a moment, breathless and excited, inthedark and windy street.She had no idea why she halted there, for she wanted to run.But the instantshegot out into the cool night air a check came to action and thought.Strangesensations poured in upon her—the darkness, lonesome and weird; thewailing windwith its weight of dust; the roar of Benton's main thoroughfare; and the low,strange murmur, neither musical nor mirthful, behind her, from that huge hallshe called her home.Stranger even than these emotions were the swelling andaching of her heart, the glow and quiver of her flesh, thrill on thrill,deep,like bursting pages of joy never before experienced, the physical sense of atouch, inexplicable in its power.Page 193 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlOn her bare breast a place seemed to flush and throb and glow."Ah!" murmuredBeauty Stanton."That girl laid her face here—over my heart! What was Ito do?"she murmured."Oh yes—to find her sweetheart—Neale!" Then she setoff rapidly,but if she had possessed wings or the speed of the wind she could not havekeptpace with her thoughts.She turned the corner of the main street and glided among the hurryingthrong.Men stood in groups, talking excitedly.She gathered that there had beenfights.More than once she was addressed familiarly, but she did not hear what wassaid.The wide street seemed strange, dark, dismal, the lights yellow and flaring,thewind burdened, the dark tide of humanity raw, wild animal, unstable.Abovethelights and the throngs hovered a shadow—not the mantle of night nor thedarkdesert sky.Her steps took familiar ground, yet she seemed not to know this Benton."Once I was like Allie Lee!" she whispered."Not so many years ago."And the dark tide of men, the hurry and din, the wind and dust, theflickeringlights, all retreated spectral—like to the background of a mind returnedtoyouth, hope, love, home.She saw herself at eighteen—yes, Beauty Stantoneventhen, possessed of a beauty that was her ruin; at school, the favorite of ahostof boys and girls; at home, where the stately oaks were hung with silver mossand the old Colonial house rang with song of sister and sport of brother,wherea sweet-faced, gentle-voiced mother—"Ah.Mother!" And at that word the dark tide of men seemed to rise andswellat her, to trample her sacred memory as inevitably and brutally as it hadusedher body.Only the piercing pang of that memory remained with Beauty Stanton.She was apart of Benton.She was treading the loose board-walk of the great and vileconstruction camp.She might draw back from leer and touch, but none the lesswas she there, a piece of this dark, bold, obscure life.She was a cog in thewheel, a grain of dust in the whirlwind, a morsel of flesh and blood for thehungry maw of a wild and passing monster of progress.Her hurried steps carried her on with her errand.Neale! She knew where tofindhim.Often she had watched him play, always regretfully, conscious that hedidnot fit there.His indifference had baffled her as it had piqued herprofessional vanity.Men had never been indifferent to her; she had seen themfight for her mocking smiles.But Neale! He had been stone to her charm, yetkind, gracious, deferential.Always she had felt strangely shamed when hestoodbareheaded before her.Beauty Stanton had foregone respect.Yet respect waswhatshe yearned for.The instincts of her girlhood, surviving, made a whitedsepulcher of her present life.She could not bear Neale's indifference andshePage 194 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhad failed to change it.Her infatuation, born of that hot-bed of Bentonlife,had beaten and burned itself to destruction against a higher and betterlove—theonly love of her womanhood.She would have slaved for him.But he had passedherby, absorbed with his own secret, working toward some fateful destiny, lost,perhaps, like all the others there.And now she learned that the mystery of him—his secret—was thesame old agony oflove that sent so many on endless, restless roads—Allie Lee! and hebelieved herdead!After all the bitterness, life had moments of sweetest joy.Fate was being alittle kind to her—Beauty Stanton.It would be from her lips Neale wouldhearthat Allie Lee was alive—Beauty Stanton's soul seemed to soar with therealization.of how that news would uplift Neale, craze him with happiness,change his life, save him.He was going to hear the blessed tidings from awomanwhom he had scorned.Always afterward, then, he would think of Beauty Stantonwith a grateful heart.She was to be the instrument of his salvation.HoughandAncliffe had died to save Allie Lee from the vile clutch of Benton; but toBeauty Stanton, the woman of ill-fame, had been given the power.She gloriedinit.Allie Lee was safely hidden in her house.The iniquity of herestablishmentfurnished a haven for the body and life and soul of innocent Allie Lee.BeautyStanton marveled at the strange ways of life.If she could have prayed, ifshehad ever dared to hope for some splendid duty, some atonement to soften thedark, grim ending of her dark career, it would not have been for so much asfatehad now dealt to her.She was overwhelmed with her opportunity.All at once she reached the end of the street.On each side the wall oflightedtents and houses ceased [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]