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The speaker's ideal entertainments

Chapter 104: A Woman’s Vengeance.
By George M. Vickers
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Plays/Films/DramasTeaching & Education

About This Book

A curated anthology of recitations, dialogues, and short dramas compiled for use in home, church, and school entertainments, accompanied by practical annotations on gesture, dramatic poses, and delivery. Selections include newly obtained manuscripts and engraved illustrations, and introductory guidance defines a system of hand positions and movement directions to shape expressive action. Hints on staging, tasteful modulation, and the distinctions between emphatic and conversational gestures aim to help novices and trained elocutionists alike, making the collection a hands-on resource for developing vocal technique and coordinated physical expression.

A Woman’s Vengeance.

I thank[1292] you for your sympathy,
But help! No,[1293] there is none for me.
For what I’ve done I feel no sting
Of penitence, nor can time bring
One pang of sorrow. You may think
Me hard, unfeeling, and may shrink[1294]
From me with loathing when I say,
I’m glad my bullet found the way
Into his heart; and I would do
The same again, and glory,[1295] too,
In having done it. Penalty!
For what they now may do with me
I care but little.[1296] He is dead,
And that ends all.
What made me do the deed? The old,
Old[1297] time-worn story of man’s cold
And heartless cruelty; of wrongs
Heaped on her head,[1298] to whom belongs
At least respect,[1299] if nothing more.
I met him—him, my husband—just
Five years ago. My God! what trust
I placed in his fair words, so soft,
So sweet, so full of love. But love is blind,
And I was madly so. The first two years
Were full[1300] of joy—joy without tears.
My life was of peaceful love.
But, ah! the change came sudden, fast;
My summer sun was overcast.[1301]
The godlike being that I thought
Of all mankind[1302] most perfect wrought,
Tore off[1303] the mask that hid his face,
And, to my horror,[1304] in his place
Revealed a demon,[1305] blackest-hued,
Remorseless, pitiless, imbued
With all the wickedness that heart
Can hold, or shameless sin[1306] impart
The loving words to curses[1307] turned;
My fond advances all were spurned.[1308]
I soon became for him a thing
To tread upon—a clod to fling[1309]
From out his path. I took my child
And fled[1310] one night, half maddened, wild,
Far from his sight—I cared not where
So I again his face might ne’er
Behold. But soon once more with words
That seemed to me like songs of birds[1311]
He sought me out, and with eyes
Filled with repentant tears, implored
Forgiveness; and I—fool![1312] ignored[1313]
The past, forgot my woes, and went
Back to his home with heart content.
O Heaven![1314] could I have but foreseen,
Could I have known he did not mean
To keep the vows so freely made!
Once more his promises were cast
Aside,[1315] as idle words, and worse
Than e’en before—a daily curse[1316]
My life became.
Then came at last the final blow—
The worst that love can contemplate,
And which can turn that love to hate.[1317]
One night, when he had gone from me,
I found a letter which he carelessly
Had overlooked. The script[1318] was small
And neat—a woman’s hand! A wall
Of fire outstretched[1319] before my eyes;
A nameless horror seemed to rise.
No, no! this could not be. He might
Be bad, be dead to sense of right,
But false! O Heaven![1320] The dreadful thought
Surged in my brain.[1321] I crushed[1322] it, fought[1323]
It down with frenzied eagerness.
The note was open; chilled, nerveless,
I drew it[1324] from its fold and read,
[1325]“This night to meet him,” so it said.
This night! how throbbed[1326] my aching head!
Her house it gave—the place, the hour—
I seemed renewed with sudden power.
He[1327] would be there, and so would I.[1328]
I cast[1329] the hated letter by;
My child from off the floor I clasped,
And from the bureau drawer I grasped
A loaded pistol that would right
My wrong. So out[1330] into the night,
Into the raging storm, I fled,
My babe clasped[1331] in my arms.
I could but repeat,
“False! false! I’ll be revenged!”[1332] My soul
Now stirred and roused beyond control,
Was filled with one desire alone,
And that was that he should atone[1333]
For this—to woman—foulest[1334] wrong.
So through the night I sped along
Until I reached her house.
And then I heard[1335]
A voice within—his voice! Each word
In sweet and loving tenderness,
And accents that my[1336] heart should bless
Were lavished on her[1337] listening ears.
I listened, listened,[1338] all unseen,
Until I thought I should go wild.[1339]
Then, with a desperate hand, flung wide[1340]
The casement. With a bound, beside
The two[1341] I stood. She started—screamed;
He turned[1342] and saw me, and then seemed
A moment as if turned to stone;
And as his baseness I made known,
She—poor thing—with a long, low cry,
Sank[1343] to the floor despairingly.
Then, like a fiend let loose from hell,
He toward[1344] me leaped with one fierce yell,
And grasping[1345] quick a heavy chair
Cried, “Curse you!” whirled it high[1346] in air.
I sprang aside[1347] in sudden dread;
The blow fell full upon the head
Of my sweet child, that lifeless dropped
Back in my arms. My heart throbs[1348] stopped;
A red mist swam[1349] before my sight;
I could not scream, try as I might.
I grasped the pistol[1350] from my breast,
And then I killed[1351] him! All the rest
For days to me was blank;[1352] and when—
O Heaven! why did I not die then?
At last my sense came back. I would
Have taken my own life if I could.
But it perhaps was better[1353] so;
God will not judge me hard, I know.
And when, in answer to His call,
I stand within the heavenly hall,[1354]
And the Blessed One
Says, “Why hast thou transgressed my laws?”
My babe shall plead its mother’s[1355] cause.
—Thomas F. Wilford.

Gestures.