Then Widow Wenner
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I have signedTo go to France to-day. I wrote you onceI planned to take the veil, become a nun.But now the war has changed my thought. I seeIn service for my country fuller life,More useful sacrifice and greater workThan ever I could have, being a nun.The cause is so momentous. Think, my dear,This woman who still thinks of you will beA factor in this war for liberty,A soldier serving soldiers, giving strength,Health, hope and spirit to the soldier boysWho fall, must be restored to fight again.I've thrown my soul in this, am all aflame.You should have seen me when I took the oath,And raised my hand and pledged my word to serve,Support the law. I want to think of youAs proud of me for doing this--be proud,Be grateful, too, that I have strength and willTo give myself to this. And if it chance,As almost I am hoping, that the workShould break me, sweep me under, think of meAs one who died for country, as I shallAs truly as the soldiers slain in battle.I leave to-morrow, will be at a campSome weeks before I sail. I telephoned youThis morning twice, they said you would returnBy two-o'clock at least. I write instead.But I shall come to see you, if I canSometime this afternoon, and if I don't,This letter then must answer. Peace be with you.To-day I'm very happy. Write to me,Or if you do not think it best, all right,I'll understand. Before I sail I'll sendA message to you--for the time farewell." Then Widow Wenner read the telegramThe third and last communication: "SailTo-day, to-morrow, very soon, I know.My memories of you are happy ones.A fond adieu." This telegram was signedBy Elenor Murray. Widow Wenner knewThe name at last, sat petrified to thinkThis was the girl who brazened through the dinnerSome years ago when Gregory Wenner broughtThis woman to his home--"the shameless trull,"Said Mrs. Wenner, "harlot, impudent jade,To think my husband is dead, would she were dead--I could be happy if I knew a bombOr vile disease had got her." Then she lookedIn other pigeon holes, and found in oneA photograph of Elenor Murray, knewThe face that looked across the dinner table.And in the pigeon hole she found some versesClipped from a magazine, and tucked awayThe letters, verses, telegram in her bag,Closed up the safe and left. Next day at breakfastShe scanned the morning _Times_, her eyes were wideFor reading of the Elenor Murray inquest."Well, God is just," she murmured, "God is just." * * * * * All this was learned of Gregory Wenner. EvenIf Gregory Wenner killed the girl, the manWas dead now. Could he kill her and returnAnd kill himself? The coroner had gone,The jury too, to view the spot where layElenor Murray's body. It was clearA man had walked here. Was it Gregory Wenner?The hunter who came up and found the body?This hunter was a harmless, honest soulCould not have killed her, passed the grill of questionsFrom David Borrow, skilled examiner,The coroner, the jurors. But meantimeIf Gregory Wenner killed this Elenor MurrayHow did he do it? Dr. Trace has madeHis autopsy and comes and makes reportTo the coroner and the jury in these words:--
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