Domesday Book Part 22

And haven't we, the nurses and the soldiers Written some million stories for the eyes Of boys and girls to read these fifty years?

And if they read and understand, no war Can come again. They can't have war without The spirit of your Elenor Murrays--no!

So Mary Black went on, and Merival Gave liberty to her to talk her mind.

The jury smiled or looked intense for words So graphic of the horrors of the war.

Then David Barrow asked: "Who is the man That used to write to Elenor, went away?"

And Mary Black replied, "We do not know; I do not know a girl who ever knew.

I only know that Elenor wept and grieved, And did her duty like a little soldier.

It was some man who came to France, because The word went round he had gone back, and left The service, or the service there in France Had left. Some said he'd gone to England, some America. He must have been an American, Or rather in America when she sailed, Because she went off happy. In New York Saw much of him before we sailed."

And then The Reverend Maiworm juryman spoke up-- This Mary Black had left the witness chair-- And asked if Gregory Wenner went to France.

The coroner thought not, but would inquire.

Jane Fisher was a friend of Elenor Murray's And held the secret of a pack of letters Which Elenor Murray left. And on a day She talks with Susan Hamilton, a friend.

Jane Fisher has composed a letter to A lawyer in New York, who has the letters-- At least it seems so--and to get the letters, And so fulfill the trust which Elenor Had left to Jane. Meantime the coroner Had heard somehow about the letters, or That Jane knows something--she is anxious now, And in a flurry, does not wish to go Down to LeRoy and tell her story. So She talks with Susan Hamilton like this:

JANE FISHER

Jane Fisher says to Susan Hamilton, That Coroner has no excuse to bring You, me before him. There are many too Who could throw light on Elenor Murray's life Besides the witnesses he calls to tell The cause of death: could he call us and hear About the traits we know, he should have us.

What do we know of Elenor Murray's death?

Why, not a thing, unless her death began With Simeon Strong and Gregory Wenner--then I could say something, for she told me much About her plan to marry Simeon Strong, And could have done so but for Gregory Wenner, Whose fault of life combined with fault of hers To break the faith of Simeon Strong in her.

And so what have we? Gregory Wenner's love Poisons the love of Simeon Strong, from that Poor Elenor Murray falls into decline; From that, re-acts to nursing and religion, Which leads her to the war; and from the war Some other causes come, I know not what; I wish I knew. And Elenor Murray dies, Is killed or has a normal end of life.

But, Susan, Elenor Murray feasted richly While life was with her, spite of all the pain.

If you could choose, be Elenor Murray or Our schoolmate, Mary Marsh, which would you be?

Elenor Murray had imagination, And courage to sustain it; Mary Marsh Had no imagination, was afraid, Could not envision life in Europe, married And living there in England, threw her chance Away to live in England, was content, And otherwise not happy but to lift Her habitation from the west of town And settle on the south side, wed a man Whose steadiness and business sense made sure A prosperous uniformity of life.

Life does not enter at your door and seek you, And pour her gifts into your lap. She drops The chances and the riches here and there.

They find them who fly forth, as faring birds Know northern marshes, rice fields in the south; While the dull turtle waddles in his mud.

The bird is slain perhaps, the turtle lives, But which has known the thrills?

Well, on a time Elenor Murray, Janet Stearns, myself Thought we would see Seattle and Vancouver, We had saved money teaching school that year-- The plan was Elenor Murray's. So we sailed To 'Frisco from Los Angeles, saw 'Fris...o...b.. daylight, but to see the town by night Was Elenor Murray's wish, and up to now We had no men, had found none. Elenor said, "Let's go to Palo Alto, find some men."

We landed in a blinding sun, and walked About the desolate campus, but no men.

And Janet and myself were tired and hot; But Elenor, who never knew fatigue, Went searching here and there, and left us sitting Under a palm tree waiting. Hours went by, Two hours, I think, when she came down the walk A man on either side. She brought them up And introduced them. They were gay and young, Students with money. Then the fun began: We wished to see the place, must hurry back To keep engagements in the city--whew!

How Elenor Murray baited hooks for us With words about the city and our plans; What fun we three had had already there!

Until at last these fellows begged to come, Return with us to 'Frisco, be allowed To join our party. "Could we manage it?"

Asked Elenor Murray, "do you think we can?"

We fell into the play and talked it over, Considered this and that, resolved the thing, And said at last to come, and come they did....

Well, such a time in 'Frisco. For you see Our money had been figured down to cents For what we planned to do. These fellows helped, We scarcely had seen 'Fris...o...b..t for them.

They bought our dinners, paid our way about Through China Town and so forth, but we kept Our staterooms on the boat, slept on the boat.

And after three days' feasting sailed away With bouquets for each one of us.

But this girl Could never get enough, must on and on See more, have more sensations, never tired.

And when we saw Vancouver then the dream Of going to Alaska entered her.

I had no money, Janet had no money To help her out, and Elenor was short.

We begged her not to try it--what a will!

She set her jaw and said she meant to go.

And when we missed her for a day, behold We find her, she's a cas.h.i.+er in a store, And earning money there to take the trip.

Our boat was going back, we left her there.

I see her next when school commences, ruling Her room of pupils at Los Angeles.

The summer after this she wandered east, Was now engaged to Simeon Strong, but writing To Gregory Wenner, saw him in Chicago.

She traveled to New York, he followed her.

She was a girl who had to live her life, Could not live through another, found no man Whose life sufficed for hers, must live herself, Be individual.

And en route for France She wrote me from New York, was seeing much Of Margery, an aunt--I never knew her, But sensed an evil in her, and a mind That used the will of Elenor Murray--how Or why, I knew not. But she wrote to me This Margery had brought her lawyer in, There in New York to draw a doc.u.ment, And put some letters in a safety box.

Whose letters? Gregory Wenner's? I don't know.

She told me much of secrets, but of letters That needed for their preciousness a box, A lawyer to arrange the matter, nothing.

For if there was another man, she felt Too shamed, no doubt, to tell me:--"This is he, The love I sought, the great reality,"

When she had said as much of Gregory Wenner.

But now a deeper matter: with this letter She sent a formal writing giving me Charge of these letters, if she died to give The letters to the writer. I'm to know The ident.i.ty of the writer, so she planned When I obtain them. How about this lawyer, And Margery the aunt? What shall I do?

Write to this lawyer what my duty is Appointed me of her, go to New York?

I must do something, for this lawyer has, As I believe, no knowledge of my place In this affair. Who has the box's key?

This lawyer, or the aunt--I have no key-- And if they have the key, or one of them, And enter, take the letters, look! our friend Gets stains upon her memory; or the man Who wrote the letters finds embarra.s.sment.

Somehow, I think, these letters hold a secret, The deepest of her life and cruelest, And figured in her death. My dearest friend, What if they brought me to the coroner, If I should get these letters, and they learned I had them, this relation to our Elenor!

Yet how can I neglect to write this lawyer And tell him Elenor Murray gave to me This power of disposition?

Come what may I must write to this lawyer. Here I write To get the letters, and obey the wish Of our dear friend. Our friend who never could Carry her ventures to success, but always Just at the prosperous moment wrecked her hope.

She really wished to marry Simeon Strong.

Then why imperil such a wish by keeping This Gregory Wenner friends.h.i.+p living, go About with Gregory Wenner, fill the heart Of Simeon Strong with doubt?

Oh well, my friend, We wonder at each other, I at you, And you at me, for doing this or that.

And yet I think no man or woman acts Without a certain logic in the act Of nature or of circ.u.mstance.

Look here, This letter to the lawyer. Will it do?

I think so. If it brings the letters--well!

If not, I'll get them somehow, it must be, I loved her, faults and all, and so did you....

So while Jane Fisher pondered on her duty, But didn't write the letter to the lawyer, Who had the charge of Elenor Murray's letters, The lawyer, Henry Baker, in New York Finds great perplexity. Sometimes a case Walks in a lawyer's office, makes his future, Or wrecks his health, or brings him face to face With some one rising from the ma.s.s of things, Faces and circ.u.mstance, that ends his life.

So Henry Baker took such chances, taking The custody of these letters.

James Rex Hunter Is partner of this Baker, sees at last Merival and tells him how it was With Baker at the last; he died because Of Elenor Murray's letters, Hunter told The coroner at the Waldorf. Dramatized His talk with Lawyer Baker in these words:--

HENRY BAKER, AT NEW YORK

One partner may consult another--James, Here is a matter you must help me with, It's coming to a head.

Well, to be plain, And to begin at the beginning first, I knew a woman up on Sixty-third, Have known her since I got her a divorce, Married, divorced, before--last night we quarreled, I must do something, hear me and advise.