JANE FISHER

Jane Fisher says to Susan Hamilton,

That Coroner has no excuse to bring

You, me before him. There are many too

Who could throw light on Elenor Murray's life

Besides the witnesses he calls to tell

The cause of death: could he call us and hear

About the traits we know, he should have us.

What do we know of Elenor Murray's death?

Why, not a thing, unless her death began

With Simeon Strong and Gregory Wenner — then

I could say something, for she told me much

About her plan to marry Simeon Strong,

And could have done so but for Gregory Wenner,

Whose fault of life combined with fault of hers

To break the faith of Simeon Strong in her.

And so what have we? Gregory Wenner's love

Poisons the love of Simeon Strong, from that

Poor Elenor Murray falls into decline;

From that, re-acts to nursing and religion,

Which leads her to the war; and from the war

Some other causes come, I know not what;

I wish I knew. And Elenor Murray dies,

Is killed or has a normal end of life.

But, Susan, Elenor Murray feasted richly

While life was with her, spite of all the pain.

If you could choose, be Elenor Murray or

Our schoolmate, Mary Marsh, which would you be?

Elenor Murray had imagination,

And courage to sustain it; Mary Marsh

Had no imagination, was afraid,

Could not envision life in Europe, married

And living there in England, threw her chance

Away to live in England, was content,

And otherwise not happy but to lift

Her habitation from the west of town

And settle on the south side, wed a man

Whose steadiness and business sense made sure

A prosperous uniformity of life.

Life does not enter at your door and seek you,

And pour her gifts into your lap. She drops

The chances and the riches here and there.

They find them who fly forth, as faring birds

Know northern marshes, rice fields in the south;

While the dull turtle waddles in his mud.

The bird is slain perhaps, the turtle lives,

But which has known the thrills?

Well, on a time

Elenor Murray, Janet Stearns, myself

Thought we would see Seattle and Vancouver,

We had saved money teaching school that year —

The plan was Elenor Murray's. So we sailed

To‘ Frisco from Los Angeles, saw‘ Frisco

By daylight, but to see the town by night

Was Elenor Murray's wish, and up to now

We had no men, had found none. Elenor said,

“Let's go to Palo Alto, find some men.”

We landed in a blinding sun, and walked

About the desolate campus, but no men.

And Janet and myself were tired and hot;

But Elenor, who never knew fatigue,

Went searching here and there, and left us sitting

Under a palm tree waiting. Hours went by,

Two hours, I think, when she came down the walk

A man on either side. She brought them up

And introduced them. They were gay and young,

Students with money. Then the fun began:

We wished to see the place, must hurry back

To keep engagements in the city — whew!

How Elenor Murray baited hooks for us

With words about the city and our plans;

What fun we three had had already there!

Until at last these fellows begged to come,

Return with us to‘ Frisco, be allowed

To join our party. “Could we manage it?”

Asked Elenor Murray, “do you think we can?”

We fell into the play and talked it over,

Considered this and that, resolved the thing,

And said at last to come, and come they did....

Well, such a time in‘ Frisco. For you see

Our money had been figured down to cents

For what we planned to do. These fellows helped,

We scarcely had seen‘ Frisco but for them.

They bought our dinners, paid our way about

Through China Town and so forth, but we kept

Our staterooms on the boat, slept on the boat.

And after three days’ feasting sailed away

With bouquets for each one of us.

But this girl

Could never get enough, must on and on

See more, have more sensations, never tired.

And when we saw Vancouver then the dream

Of going to Alaska entered her.

I had no money, Janet had no money

To help her out, and Elenor was short.

We begged her not to try it — what a will!

She set her jaw and said she meant to go.

And when we missed her for a day, behold

We find her, she's a cashier in a store,

And earning money there to take the trip.

Our boat was going back, we left her there.

I see her next when school commences, ruling

Her room of pupils at Los Angeles.

The summer after this she wandered east,

Was now engaged to Simeon Strong, but writing

To Gregory Wenner, saw him in Chicago.

She traveled to New York, he followed her.

She was a girl who had to live her life,

Could not live through another, found no man

Whose life sufficed for hers, must live herself,

Be individual.

And en route for France

She wrote me from New York, was seeing much

Of Margery, an aunt — I never knew her,

But sensed an evil in her, and a mind

That used the will of Elenor Murray — how

Or why, I knew not. But she wrote to me

This Margery had brought her lawyer in,

There in New York to draw a document,

And put some letters in a safety box.

Whose letters? Gregory Wenner's? I do n't know.

She told me much of secrets, but of letters

That needed for their preciousness a box,

A lawyer to arrange the matter, nothing.

For if there was another man, she felt

Too shamed, no doubt, to tell me:— “This is he,

The love I sought, the great reality,”

When she had said as much of Gregory Wenner.

But now a deeper matter: with this letter

She sent a formal writing giving me

Charge of these letters, if she died to give

The letters to the writer. I'm to know

The identity of the writer, so she planned

When I obtain them. How about this lawyer,

And Margery the aunt? What shall I do?

Write to this lawyer what my duty is

Appointed me of her, go to New York?

I must do something, for this lawyer has,

As I believe, no knowledge of my place

In this affair. Who has the box's key?

This lawyer, or the aunt — I have no key —

And if they have the key, or one of them,

And enter, take the letters, look! our friend

Gets stains upon her memory; or the man

Who wrote the letters finds embarrassment.

Somehow, I think, these letters hold a secret,

The deepest of her life and cruelest,

And figured in her death. My dearest friend,

What if they brought me to the coroner,

If I should get these letters, and they learned

I had them, this relation to our Elenor!

Yet how can I neglect to write this lawyer

And tell him Elenor Murray gave to me

This power of disposition?

Come what may

I must write to this lawyer. Here I write

To get the letters, and obey the wish

Of our dear friend. Our friend who never could

Carry her ventures to success, but always

Just at the prosperous moment wrecked her hope.

She really wished to marry Simeon Strong.

Then why imperil such a wish by keeping

This Gregory Wenner friendship living, go

About with Gregory Wenner, fill the heart

Of Simeon Strong with doubt?

Oh well, my friend,

We wonder at each other, I at you,

And you at me, for doing this or that.

And yet I think no man or woman acts

Without a certain logic in the act

Of nature or of circumstance.

Look here,

This letter to the lawyer. Will it do?

I think so. If it brings the letters — well!

If not, I'll get them somehow, it must be,

I loved her, faults and all, and so did you....

So while Jane Fisher pondered on her duty,

But did n't write the letter to the lawyer,

Who had the charge of Elenor Murray's letters,

The lawyer, Henry Baker, in New York

Finds great perplexity. Sometimes a case

Walks in a lawyer's office, makes his future,

Or wrecks his health, or brings him face to face

With some one rising from the mass of things,

Faces and circumstance, that ends his life.

So Henry Baker took such chances, taking

The custody of these letters.

James Rex Hunter

Is partner of this Baker, sees at last

Merival and tells him how it was

With Baker at the last; he died because

Of Elenor Murray's letters, Hunter told

The coroner at the Waldorf. Dramatized

His talk with Lawyer Baker in these words:—