Within the Law | Page 5

labors: cooking her own scant meals over the gas;
washing and ironing, for the sake of that neat appearance which was
required of her by those in authority at the Emporium--yet, more
especially, necessary for her own self-respect. With a mind keen and
earnest, she contrived some solace from reading and studying, since the
free library gave her this opportunity. So, though engaged in stultifying
occupation through most of her hours, she was able to find food for
mental growth. Even, in the last year, she had reached a point of
development whereat she began to study seriously her own position in
the world's economy, to meditate on a method of bettering it. Under
this impulse, hope mounted high in her heart. Ambition was born. By

candid comparison of herself with others about her, she realized the
fact that she possessed an intelligence beyond the average. The training
by her father, too, had been of a superior kind. There was as well, at the
back vaguely, the feeling of particular self-respect that belongs
inevitably to the possessor of good blood. Finally, she demurely
enjoyed a modest appreciation of her own physical advantages. In short,
she had beauty, brains and breeding. Three things of chief importance
to any woman--though there be many minds as to which may be chief
among the three.
I have said nothing specific thus far as to the outer being of Mary
Turner--except as to filmed eyes and a huddled form. But, in a happier
situation, the girl were winning enough. Indeed, more! She was one of
those that possess an harmonious beauty, with, too, the penetrant charm
that springs from the mind, with the added graces born of the spirit.
Just now, as she sat, a figure of desolation, there on the bed in the
Tombs cell, it would have required a most analytical observer to
determine the actualities of her loveliness. Her form was disguised by
the droop of exhaustion. Her complexion showed the pallor of
sorrowful vigils. Her face was no more than a mask of misery. Yet, the
shrewd observer, if a lover of beauty, might have found much for
delight, even despite the concealment imposed by her present condition.
Thus, the stormy glory of her dark hair, great masses that ran a riot of
shining ripples and waves. And the straight line of the nose, not too
thin, yet fine enough for the rapture of a Praxiteles. And the pink
daintiness of the ear-tips, which peered warmly from beneath the pall
of tresses. One could know nothing accurately of the complexion now.
But it were easy to guess that in happier places it would show of a
purity to entice, with a gentle blooming of roses in the cheeks. Even in
this hour of unmitigated evil, the lips revealed a curving beauty of
red--not quite crimson, though near enough for the word; not quite
scarlet either; only, a red gently enchanting, which turned one's
thoughts toward tenderness--with a hint of desire. It was, too, a
generous mouth, not too large; still, happily, not so small as those
modeled by Watteau. It was altogether winsome--more, it was generous
and true, desirable for kisses--yes!--more desirable for strength and for
faith.

Like every intelligent woman, Mary had taken the trouble to reinforce
the worth of her physical attractiveness. The instinct of sex was strong
in her, as it must be in every normal woman, since that appeal is
nature's law. She kept herself supple and svelte by many exercises, at
which her companions in the chamber scoffed, with the prudent
warning that more work must mean more appetite. With arms still
aching from the lifting of heavy bolts of cloth to and fro from the
shelves, she nevertheless was at pains nightly to brush with the
appointed two hundred strokes the thick masses of her hair. Even here,
in the sordid desolation of the cell, the lustrous sheen witnessed the
fidelity of her care. So, in each detail of her, the keen observer might
have found adequate reason for admiration. There was the delicacy of
the hands, with fingers tapering, with nails perfectly shaped, neither too
dull nor too shining. And there were, too, finally, the trimly shod feet,
set rather primly on the floor, small, and arched like those of a Spanish
Infanta. In truth, Mary Turner showed the possibilities at least, if not
just now the realities, of a very beautiful woman.
Naturally, in this period of grief, the girl's mind had no concern with
such external merits over which once she had modestly exulted. All her
present energies were set to precise recollection of the ghastly
experience into which she had been thrust.
In its outline, the event had been tragically simple.
There had been thefts in the store. They had been traced eventually