Custody of children -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
"As God hears me, I did. Margaret, you can never know what that struggle
was. It racked me. His blood cried to me day and night--as I watched it
ebb away, and as I stood beside him in the silent house that I thought
_you_ had desolated. I prayed that vengeance might fall on you for this
thing. As for me, I was bound,--bound by his dying wish and his dying
declaration. Who would believe me if I charged you with the crime? And
even if proof were not lacking how could I bring you to justice when
with his latest breath he begged that I would spare you? At last I
remembered the words, 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.'
I believe in that. God's vengeance does not always come swiftly--but it
comes! I believed that some day it would fall on you. And I could wait!"
She stared at him with fascinated eyes, half feeling in the tension of
the moment that she was the guilty thing he thought her.
"The waiting was not long. When the will was read--the will that by the
accursed law of this District had power to take your child from you and
give him to me--I saw in it my opportunity. They say there is the beast
in every man--the old primordial instinct to rend and kill which ages of
training and leash and club have not exterminated. I do not know.
Sometimes I think it may be true. What I do know is that I came into
this room a man, with a man's self-control, but when I found my hand
upon your throat, found that _my_ time had come, something within me
that I did not know was there leaped up and fought and roared. I could
not hold it down. It mastered me! And at the last it took my form and
said through my lips, 'Vengeance shall be _mine_! _I_ will repay!... And
I will--repay--through--_law_!"
She shrank from him as we do in the presence of the mighty elemental
forces of nature.
"It seemed to me in my distorted state of mind that this was Heaven's
justice, and that I was the instrument to mete it out.... But Margaret!"
He stretched out his hands toward her and then let them drop,--"it was
not true. In my arrogance I had usurped the prerogative of Almighty
God--and He--has--punished me!"
His voice sank lower and lower with each word.
At last she broke the silence that was stifling her, saying wonderingly
and with hesitation,
"How?--how has he punished you? I think I do not understand. Through
Philip, do you mean?"
"No. Not through Philip--not through Philip! Through Philip's mother."
The room lapsed into silence then. Her heart was beating so that it
seemed to her that he must hear the throbs. It was impossible to mistake
his meaning.
"I count it part of my humiliation," he said in proud
self-abasement,--"and I will not spare myself--that I must come at the
last to the woman I have persecuted, the woman I have hunted down and
robbed, the woman I have in my heart held guilty of foul crime--and tell
her--that--_I love her_!"
She did not stir nor look at him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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