Newspaper Page Text
A
It
er Pall
Crowning Work of
Vritten—A Fearless
Social Problem of
A'( iAZINE for Jane
. husb m
o In Sue;
ie ol wo
is realizi 1
nee <iit
barter
she hat
ing for
f a
Is, as w
Isn't fai:
: a worn
special
He de
inspired
He absc
r that e
e uncon
ing the
t purpos
elists,
afterfrai
his real
ig with
with m
idly for
id seem
his, and
lore tha
eme ev
ently de
Susan L
followi
courtes;
« tl
;e a better status for women. He had no patience with
jn who was a willing parasite, and if she read him she
that most distinctly. He believed in the financial in-
onren in ordei that marriages might be free from any
t id sale, of am suspicion of a mercenary motive on their
do income of her own, he thought she ought to gain one
She should be free to exercise her morai right of free
d, or of choice to have no husband at all. He often said
las wrote in different terms in his stories:
because she has stirred a little transient sentiment in
l should have to be supported for life by a man."
version among women was the “degenerate" fashionable
her to be a prevailing type in American society, a
by nothing more than an animal love of comfort and
yed her of the charge of sensuality, however—would not
tuse for her parasite existi , ct
iously, through the force of his innate genius for seizing
ader’s attention and driving iiorrc the lesson which was
of his labors, he used literary devices invented by Rus-
;h whose works he was entirely unfamiliar—at least un-
Like Tchemyshevsky, for example, he frequently ad-
i:s directly at the beginnings and ends of his chapters,
hem the vita! points thus far made. He was familiar,
of the writings of Tolstoi and Dostoyevsky, studying
he clue to their marvellous illusions of reality in Char
lie Immediate fruits of it, were, in the mind of Phillips,
the necessary preparation for the rounding out of the
present In the back of his h-ain—the theme now so
eloped and y'vi ■ to the world in his last and greatest
iox; Her Fall and Rise.”
: brief scene i from that i-o» humous work are printed
of HEARST'S MAGAZINE, in which the serial is now
10
'ebrowi
lse red
lch it m
>e at on
eir cola
, grave
i certaii
■y hair i
swing
brow,
e back
r inexcjsi
begun
d, and
perfume
the
Adx
ey shoul
iressed
m with
ation
aer eagl
with . :
nal as
a g
id longs I
Susan;
ag “Poo
to havt
sting
C the mi
at I
nomine
, Susan
air and
e housi i
te darl
st a hi
afraid.'
was
3 of
iw amo
At
ulders,
her oi
arrler.
id he
vV
■emalned da’k: thus,
of her lips had that
:es'sary to di. wji :iio.\
e fascinated by those
by their clearness,
nquiry, by their mys
sadness. She had a
pt so long as Ruth's
sautifull-v insioad of
ibout her delicately
f her exquisite neck,
lable—that the girls
pity Susan as soon
lis personality began
It. was but natural
ole town to “being
ft was equally the
have achieved their
be conventional mas-
such a sense of the
“impossibility'' that
rly admiring friends,
to ask her to dance,
business; but with
iveling superstition.
for, sighed for, the
but they dared not,
thing! What a pity
anything to do with
cal example of the
e character.
tj iii
as the cousins went
gave herself over to
sf the flowering gar-
they were passing;
for her, all its joy
a r ed of her cousin so
is ising the show place
Wrights. She was
the trees a young
same instant he
g
ie
hands cross the hedge that
Susan began to move
his side of the care-
I’m going back East
It’s awful dull here
in—hi ven’t seen Lottie or
> at th< gate. He opened it,
-hose* small
uisite'
came out into the street. He was a tallish, athletic
youth, darl; ai d pleasing enough of features to be
• ailed -••'drome.
“My, but you’re looking fine, Susie,” exclaimed ne.
1 haven't seen anyone that could hold a candle
a "O" en in thp East."
Susan laughed and blushed with pleasure. “Go on,"
faul :h with raillery. “1 love it.”
“Co a i”d sit under the trees, and I’ll fill all the
time you'l! give me.”
Thi.- rcm.nded her. “I must hurry uptown," she
said. “Good-bye.”
“Hold on!’’ cried he. “What have you got to do?”
He happened to glance down the street. “Isn’t that
Ruth coming?”
Ruth was all sweetness and smiles. She and her
mother—quite privately and with nothing open said
on either side—had canvassed Sam as a “possibility.”
There had been keen disappointment at the news
that lie was not coming home for the long vacation.
“How are you, Sam?” said she, as they shook hands.
"M- . Susie, doesn't he look New York?"
“Well, so long,” said Susan.
“Come on to Vandermark’s with me and I’ll stroll
back with you,” offered Ruth. Sam was still gazing
into the store where, far to the rear, Susan could be
seen; the graceful head, the gently swelling bust, the
soft lines of the white dress, the pretty ankles
revealed by the short skirt—there was indeed a profile
worth a man’s looking at on a fine June day. Ruth’s
eyes were upon Sam, handsome, dressed in the Eastern
fashion, an ideal lover. “Come on, Sam,” urged Ruth.
“No, thanks,” he replied absently. “I’ll go back.
Good luck!” And not glancing at her he lifted bis
straw' hat with Its band of Yale blue and set out.
• • •
“Good night—Susie." Sam held out his hand. She
took it with a queer reluctance. She felt nervous,
afraid—as If there were something uncanny lurking
somewhere in those moonlight shadows. She gently
tried to draw her hand away, but he would not let her.
She made a faint struggle, then yielded. It was so
wonderful the sense of the touch of his hand. “Susie
he said hoarsely. And she knew he felt as she did.
Before she realized it his arms were round her, and
his lips had met hers. “You drive me crazy,” he
whispered.
Both were trembling; she had become quite cold—
her cheeks, her hand, her body even. “You mustn’t,”
she murmured, drawing gently away.
“You set me crazy,” he repeated. “Do you—love me
—a little?”
“Oh, I must go!” she pleaded. Tears were glisten
ing in her long dark lashes. The sight of them mad
dened him. “Do you—Susie?” he pleaded.
"I’m—I’m—very young,” she stammered.
“Yes—yes—I know,” he assented eagerly. “But not
too young to love, Susie? No. Because you do—
.don’t you?”
The moonlight world seemed a fairyland. “Yes,”
she said softly. “I guess so. I must go. I must.”
And, moved beyond her power to control herself,
she broke from his detaining hand and fled Into the
house. She darted up to her room, paused In the
middle of the floor, her hands clasped over her wildly
beating heart. When she could move she threw open
the shutters and went out on the balcony. She
leaned against the window frame and gazed up at the
stars, instinctively seeking the companionship of the
Infinite.
Her lips were moving. She was amazed to And she
was repeating the one prayer she knew, the one Aunt
Fanny had taught her In babyhood. Why should she
find herself praying? Love—love—love! She was a
woman and she loved I So, this was what It meant to
be a woman; it meant to love!
• • •
“Be careful, Susan, how you let 8am Wright hang
around you," cried Ruth, with blazing eyes and
trembling lips. “You be careful—that’s all I’ve got
to say.”
“Why, what do you meant” asked Susan wonder-
ingly.
"Be careful! He’d never think for a minute of
marrying you.”
The words meant nothing to Susan, hut the tone
stabbed into her heart “Why not?" she said.
Ruth looked at her cousin, hung her head In shame.
“Go—go!” she begged. “Please go. I’m a bad girl—
bad—had! Go!” And, crying hysterically, she pushed
amazed Susan through the connecting door, closed
and bolted it.
The first instalment of “The Story of Susan
Lenox” will be found in full in the June number
of .HEARST’S MAGAZINE.