Mary Turner listened with curiosity, but she was in no wise moved to follow such a life, even though it did not necessitate anything worse than a fraudulent playing at love, without physical degradation.So, she steadfastly continued her refusals, to the great astonishment of Aggie, who actually could not understand in the least, even while she believed the other's declaration of innocence of the crime for which she was serving a sentence.But, for her own part, such innocence had nothing to do with the matter.Where, indeed, could be the harm in ****** some old sinner pay a round price for his folly? And always, in response to every argument, Mary shook her head in negation.She would live straight.
Then, the heavy brows of Aggie would draw down a little, and the baby face would harden.
"You will find that you are up against a hell of a frost," she would declare, brutally.
Mary found the profane prophecy true.Back in New York, she experienced a poverty more ravaging than any she had known in those five lean years of her working in the store.She had been absolutely penniless for two days, and without food through the gnawing hours, when she at last found employment of the humblest in a milliner's shop.Followed a blessed interval in which she worked contentedly, happy over the meager stipend, since it served to give her shelter and food honestly earned.
But the ways of the police are not always those of ordinary decency.In due time, an officer informed Mary's employer concerning the fact of her record as a convict, and thereupon she was at once discharged.The unfortunate victim of the law came perilously close to despair then.Yet, her spirit triumphed, and again she persevered in that resolve to live straight.Finally, for the second time, she secured a cheap position in a cheap shop--only to be again persecuted by the police, so that she speedily lost the place.
Nevertheless, indomitable in her purpose, she maintained the struggle.A third time she obtained work, and there, after a little, she told her employer, a candy manufacturer in a small way, the truth as to her having been in prison.The man had a kindly heart, and, in addition, he ran little risk in the matter, so he allowed her to remain.When, presently, the police called his attention to the girl's criminal record, he paid no heed to their advice against retaining her services.But such action on his part offended the greatness of the law's dignity.The police brought pressure to bear on the man.They even called in the assistance of Edward Gilder himself, who obligingly wrote a very severe letter to the girl's employer.In the end, such tactics alarmed the man.For the sake of his own interests, though unwillingly enough, he dismissed Mary from his service.
It was then that despair did come upon the girl.She had tried with all the strength of her to live straight.Yet, despite her innocence, the world would not let her live according to her own conscience.It demanded that she be the criminal it had branded her--if she were to live at all.So, it was despair! For she would not turn to evil, and without such turning she could not live.She still walked the streets falteringly, seeking some place; but her heart was gone from the quest.Now, she was sunken in an apathy that saved her from the worst pangs of misery.She had suffered so much, so poignantly, that at last her emotions had grown sluggish.She did not mind much even when her tiny hoard of money was quite gone, and she roamed the city, starving....Came an hour when she thought of the river, and was glad!
Mary remembered, with a wan smile, how, long ago, she had thought with amazed horror of suicide, unable to imagine any trouble sufficient to drive one to death as the only relief.Now, however, the thing was ****** to her.Since there was nothing else, she must turn to that--to death.Indeed, it was so very ******, so final, and so easy, after the agonies she had endured, that she marveled over her own folly in not having sought such escape before....Even with the first wild fancy, she had unconsciously bent her steps westward toward the North River.
Now, she quickened her pace, anxious for the plunge that should set the term to sorrow.In her numbed brain was no flicker of thought as to whatever might come to her afterward.Her sole guide was that compelling passion of desire to be done with this unbearable present.Nothing else mattered--not in the least!
So, she came through the long stretch of ill-lighted streets, crossed some railroad tracks to a pier, over which she hurried to the far end, where it projected out to the fiercer currents of the Hudson.There, without giving herself a moment's pause for reflection or hesitation, she leaped out as far as her strength permitted into the coil of waters....But, in that final second, natural terror in the face of death overcame the lethargy of despair--a shriek burst from her lips.
