You ask What took her to the war? Why only this: Adventure, chance of marriage, amorous conquests-- The girl was mad for men, although I saw Her smoke obscured the flame, I never saw her Except with robins far too tame or lame To interest her, and robins prove to me The hawk is somewhere, waits for night to join His playmate when the robins are at rest. You see the girl has madness in her, flies From exaltation up to ecstasy. Feeds on emotion, never has enough. Tries all things, states of spirit, even beliefs. Passes from lust (I think) to celibacy, Feasts, fasts, eats, starves, has raptures then inflicts The whip upon her back, is penitent, Then proud, is humble, then is arrogant, Looks down demurely, stares you out of face, But runs the world around. For in point of fact, She traveled much, knew cities and their ways; And when I used to see her at the convent So meek, clothed like a sewing maid, at once The pictures that she showed me of herself At seaside places or on boulevards, Her beauty clothed in linen or in silk, Came back to mind, and I would resurrect The fragments of our talks in which I saw How she knew foods and drinks and restaurants, And fashionable shops. This girl could fool the elect-- She fooled me for a time. I found her out. Did she aspire? Perhaps, if you believe It's aspiration to seek out the rich, And ape them. Not for me. Of course she went To get adventure in the war, perhaps She got too much. But as to waste of life, She might have been a quiet, noble woman Keeping her place in life, not trying to rise Out of her class--too useless--in her class Making herself all worthy, serviceable. You'll find 'twas pride that slew her. Very like She found a rich man, tried to hold him, lost Her honor and her life in consequence. * * * * * When Merival showed this letter to the jury, Marion the juryman spoke up: "You know that type of woman--saintly hag! I wouldn't take her word about a thing By way of inference, or analysis. They had some trouble, she and Elenor You may be sure." And Merival replied: "Take it for what it's worth. I leave you now To see the man who owns the _Daily Times_. He's turned upon our inquest, did you see The jab he gives me? I can jab as well." So Merival went out and took with him A riffle in the waters of circumstance Set up by Elenor Murray's death to one Remote, secure in greatness--to the man Who ran the _Times_. ARCHIBALD LOWELL