Domesday Book Part 5

Coroner Merival woke to scan the _Times_, And read the story of the suicide Of Gregory Wenner, circle big enough From Elenor Murray's death, but un.o.bserved Of Merival, until he heard the hint Of Dr. Trace, who made the autopsy, That Gregory Wenner might have caused the death Of Eleanor Murray, or at least was near When Elenor Murray died. Here is the story Worked out by Merival as he went about Unearthing secrets, asking here and there What Gregory Wenner was to Elenor Murray.

The coroner had a friend who was the friend Of Mrs. Wenner. Acting on the hint Of Dr. Trace he found this friend and learned What follows here of Gregory Wenner, then What Mrs. Wenner learned in coming home To bury Gregory Wenner. What he learned The coroner told the jury. Here's the life Of Gregory Wenner first:

GREGORY WENNER

Gregory Wenner's brother married the mother Of Alma Bell, the daughter of a marriage The mother made before. Kins.h.i.+p enough To justify a call on Wenner's power When Alma Bell was face to face with shame.

And Gregory Wenner went to help the girl, And for a moment looked on Elenor Murray Who left the school-room pa.s.sing through the hall, A girl of seventeen. He left his business Of ma.s.sing millions in the city, to help Poor Alma Bell, and three years afterward In the Garden of the G.o.ds he saw again The face of Elenor Murray--what a fate For Gregory Wenner!

But when Alma Bell Wrote him for help his mind was roiled with cares: A money magnate had signed up a loan For half a million, to which Wenner added That much beside, earned since his thirtieth year, Now forty-two, with which to build a block Of sixteen stories on a piece of ground Leased in the loop for nine and ninety years.

But now a crabbed miser, much away, Following the sun, and reached through agents, lawyers, Owning the land next to the Wenner land, Refused to have the sixteen story wall Adjoin his wall, without he might select His son-in-law as architect to plan The sixteen-story block of Gregory Wenner.

And Gregory Wenner caught in such a trap, The loan already bargained for and bound In a hard money lender's giant grasp, Consented to the terms, let son-in-law Make plans and supervise the work.

Five years Go by before the evil blossoms fully; But here's the bud: Gregory Wenner spent His half-a-million on the building, also Four hundred thousand of the promised loan, Made by the money magnate--then behold The money magnate said: "You cannot have Another dollar, for the bonds you give Are scarcely worth the sum delivered now Pursuant to the contract. I have learned Your architect has blundered, in five years Your building will be leaning, soon enough It will be wrecked by order of the city."

And Gregory Wenner found he spoke the truth.

But went ahead to finish up the building, And raked and sc.r.a.ped, fell back on friends for loans, Mortgaged his home for money, just to finish This sixteen-story building, kept a hope The future would reclaim him.

Gregory Wenner Who seemed so powerful in his place in life Had all along this cancer in his life: He owned the building, but he owed the money, And all the time the building took a slant, By just a little every year. And time Made matters worse for him, increased his foes As he stood for the city in its warfares Against the surface railways, telephones; And earned thereby the wrath of money lenders, Who made it hard for him to raise a loan, Who needed loans habitually. Besides He had the trouble of an invalid wife Who went from hospitals to sanitariums, And traveled south, and went in search of health.

Now Gregory Wenner reaches forty-five, He's fought a mighty battle, but grows tired.

The building leans a little more each year.

And money, as before, is hard to get.

And yet he lives and keeps a hope.

At last He does not feel so well, has dizzy spells.

The doctor recommends a change of scene.

And Gregory Wenner starts to see the west.

He visits Denver. Then upon a day He walks about the Garden of the G.o.ds, And sees a girl who stands alone and looks About the Garden's wonders. Then he sees The girl is Elenor Murray, who has grown To twenty-years, who looks that seventeen When first he saw her. He remembers her, And speaks of Alma Bell, that Alma Bell Is kindred to him. Where is Alma Bell, He has not heard about her in these years?

And Elenor Murray colors, and says: "Look, There is a white cloud on the mountain top."

And thus the talk commences.

Elenor Murray Shows forth the vital spirit that is hers.

She dances on her toes and crows in wonder, Flings up her arms in rapture. What a world Of beauty and of hope! For not her life Of teaching school, a school of Czechs and Poles There near LeRoy, since she left school and taught, These two years now, nor arid life at home, Her father sullen and her mother saddened; Nor yet that talk of Alma Bell and her That like a corpse's gas has scented her, And made her struggles harder in LeRoy-- Not these have quenched her flame, or made it burn Less brightly. Though at last she left LeRoy To fly old things, the dreary home, begin A new life teaching in Los Angeles.

Gregory Wenner studies her and thinks That Alma Bell was right to reprimand Elenor Murray for her reckless ways Of strolling and of riding. And perhaps Real things were back of ways to be construed In innocence or wisdom--for who knows?

His thought ran. Such a pretty face, blue eyes, And such a buoyant spirit.

So they wandered About the Garden of the G.o.ds, and took A meal together at the restaurant.

And as they talked, he told her of himself, About his wife long ill, this trip for health-- She sensed a music sadness in his soul.

And Gregory Wenner heard her tell her life Of teaching, of the arid home, the shadow That fell on her at ten years, when she saw The hopeless, loveless life of father, mother.

And his great hunger, and his solitude Reached for the soothing hand of Elenor Murray, And Elenor Murray having life to give By her maternal strength and instinct gave.

The man began to laugh, forgot his health, The leaning building, and the money lenders, And found his void of spirit growing things-- He loved this girl. And Elenor Murray seeing This strong man with his love, and seeing too How she could help him, with that venturesome And prodigal emotion which was hers Flung all herself to help him, being a soul Who tried all things in courage, staked her heart On good to come.

They took the train together.

They stopped at Santa Cruz, and on the rocks Heard the Pacific dash himself and watched The moon upon the water, breathed the scent Of oriental flowerings. There at last Under the spell of nature Gregory Wenner Bowed down his head upon his breast and shook For those long years of striving and of haggling, And for this girl, but mostly for a love That filled him now. And when he spoke again Of his starved life, his homeless years, the girl, Her mind resolved through thinking she could serve This man and bring him happiness, but with heart Flaming to heaven with the miracle Of love for him, down looking at her hands Which fingered nervously her dress's hem, Said with that gasp which made her voice so sweet: "Do what you will with me, to ease your heart And help your life."

And Gregory Wenner shaken, Astonished and made mad with ecstasy Pressed her brown head against his breast and wept.

And there at Santa Cruz they lived a week, Till Elenor Murray went to take her school, He to the north en route for home.

Five years Had pa.s.sed since then. And on this day poor Wenner Looks from a little office at his building Visibly leaning now, the building lost, The bonds foreclosed; this is the very day A court gives a receiver charge of it.

And he, these several months reduced to deals In casual properties, in trivial trades, Hard pressed for money, has gone up and down Pursuing prospects, possibilities, Scanning each day financial sheets and looking For clues to lead to money. And he finds His strength and hope not what they were before.

His wife is living on, no whit restored.

And Gregory Wenner thinks, would they not say I killed myself because I lost my building, If I should kill myself, and leave a note That business worries drove me to the deed, My building this day taken, a receiver In charge of what I builded out of my dream.

And yet he said to self, that would be false: It's Elenor Murray's death that makes this life So hard to bear, and thoughts of Elenor Murray Make life a torture. First that I had to live Without her as my wife, and next the fact That I have taken all her life's thought, ruined Her chance for home and marriage; that I have seen Elenor Murray struggle in the world, And go forth to the war with just the thought To serve, if it should kill her.

Then his mind Ran over these five years when Elenor Murray Throughout gave such devotion, constant thought, Filled all his mind and heart, and kept her voice Singing or talking in his memory's ear, In absence with long letters, when together With pa.s.sionate utterances of love. The girl Loved Gregory Wenner, but the girl had found A comfort for her spiritual solitude, And got a strength in taking Wenner's strength.

For at the last one soul lives on another.

And Elenor Murray could not live except She had a soul to live for, and a soul On which to pour her pa.s.sion, taking back The pa.s.sion of that soul in recompense.

Gregory Wenner served her power and genius For giving and for taking so to live, Achieve and flame; and found them in some moods Somehow demoniac when his spirits sank, And drink was all that kept him on his feet.

And so when Elenor Murray came to him And said this life of teaching was too much, Could not be longer borne, he thought the time Had come to end the hopeless love. He raised The money by the hardest means to pay Elenor Murray's training as a nurse, By this to set her free from teaching school, And then he set about to crush the girl Out of his life.

For Gregory Wenner saw Between this pa.s.sion and his failing thought, And gray hairs coming, fortune slip like sand.

And saw his mind diffuse itself in worries, In longing for her: found himself at times Too much in need of drink, and shrank to see What wishes rose that death might take his wife, And let him marry Elenor Murray, cure His life with having her beside him, dreaming That somehow Elenor Murray could restore His will and vision, by her pa.s.sion's touch, And mother instinct make him whole again.

But if he could not have her for his wife, And since the girl absorbed him in this life Of separation which made longing greater, Just as it lacked the medium to discharge The great emotion it created, Wenner Caught up his shreds of strength to crush her out Of his life, told her so, when he had raised The money for her training. For he saw How ruin may overtake a man, and ruin Pa.s.s by the woman, whom the world would judge As ruined long ago. But look, he thought, I pity her, not for our sin, if it be, But that I have absorbed her life; and yet The girl is mastering life, while I fall down.

She has absorbed me, if the wrong lies here.

And thus his thought went round.

And Elenor Murray Accepted what he said and went her way With words like these: "My love and prayers are yours While life is with us." Then she turned to study, And toiled each day till night brought such fatigue That sleep fell on her. Was it to forget?

And meanwhile she embraced the faith and poured Her pa.s.sion driven by a rapturous will Into religion, trod her path in silence, Save for a card at Christmas time for him, Sometimes a little message from some place Whereto her duty called her.

Gregory Wenner Stands at the window of his desolate office, And looks out on his sixteen-story building Irrevocably lost this day. His mind runs back To that day in the Garden of the G.o.ds, That night at Santa Cruz, and then his eyes Made piercing sharp by sorrow cleave the clay That lies upon the face of Elenor Murray, And see the flesh of her the worms have now.

How strange, he thinks, to flit into this life Singing and radiant, to suffer, toil, To serve in the war, return to girlhood's scenes, To die, to be a memory for a day, Then be forgotten. O, this life of ours.

Why is not G.o.d ashamed for graveyards, why So thoughtless of our pa.s.sion he lets play This tragedy.

And Gregory Wenner thought About the day he stood here, even as now And heard a step, a voice, and looked around Saw Elenor Murray, felt her arms again, Her kiss upon his cheek, and saw her face As light was beating on it, heard her gasp In ecstasy for going to the war, To which that day she gave her pledge. And heard Her words of consecration. Heard her say, As though she were that pa.s.sionate Heloise Brought into life again: "All I have done Was done for love of you, all I have asked Was only you, not what belonged to you.

I did not hope for marriage or for gifts.

I have not gratified my will, desires, But yours I sought to gratify. I have longed To be yours wholly, I have kept for self Nothing, have lived for you, have lived for you These years when you thought best to crush me out.

And now though there's a secret in my heart, Not wholly known to me, still I can know it By seeing you again, I think, by touching Your hand again. Your life has tortured me, Both for itself, and since I could not give Out of my heart enough to make your life A way of peace, a way of happiness."

Then Gregory Wenner thought how she looked down And said: "Since I go to the war, would G.o.d Look with disfavor on us if you took me In your arms wholly once again? My friend, Not with the thought to leave me soon, but sleeping Like mates, as birds do, making sleep so sweet Close to each other as G.o.d means we should.

I mingle love of G.o.d with love of you, And in the night-time I can pray for you With you beside me, find G.o.d closer then.

Who knows, you may take strength from such an hour."

Then Gregory Wenner lived that night again, And the next morning when she rose and shook, As it were night gathered dew upon fresh wings, The vital water from her glowing flesh.

And shook her hair out, laughed and said to him: "Courage and peace, my friend." And how they pa.s.sed Among the mult.i.tude, when he took her hand And said farewell, and hastened to this room To seek for chances in another day, And never saw her more.

And all these thoughts Coming on Gregory Wenner swept his soul Till it seemed like a skiff in mid-sea under A sky unreckoning, where neither bread, Nor water, save salt water, were for lips.

And over him descended a blank light Of life's futility, since now this hour Life dropped the mask and showed him just a skull.

And a strange fluttering of the nerves came on him, So that he clutched the window frame, lest he Spring from the window to the street below.

And he was seized with fear that said to fly, Go somewhere, find some one, so to draw out This madness which was one with him and in him, And which some one in pity must relieve, Something must cure. And in this sudden horror Of self, this ebbing of the tides of life, Leaving his sh.o.r.es to visions, where he saw Horrible creatures stir amid the slime, Gregory Wenner hurried from the room And walked the streets to find his thought again Wherewith to judge if he should kill himself Or look to find a path in life once more.

And Gregory Wenner sitting in his club Wrote to his brother thus: "I cannot live Now that my business is so tangled up, Bury my body by my father's side."

Next day the papers headlined Gregory Wenner: "Loss of a building drives to suicide."

Elenor Murray's death kills Gregory Wenner And Gregory Wenner dying make a riffle In Mrs. Wenner's life--reveals to her A secret long concealed:--