A Fool There Was

Produced by Jason Kwong, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
A Fool there was and he made his prayer— (Even as you and I.) To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair— ( We called her the woman who did not care) But the fool he called her his lady fair— (Even as you and I.)
1909
I. Of Certain People II. Of Certain Other People III. Two Boys and a Girl IV. The Child and the Stranger V. As Time Passes VI. An Accident VII. An Incident VIII. Of Certain Goings IX. Of Certain Other Goings X. Two Boys and a Doctor XI. A Proposal XII. A Foreign Mission XIII. The Going XIV. Parmalee—and The Woman XV. A Warning XVI. The Beginning XVII. In The Night XVIII. White Roses XIX. Shadows XX. A Fairy Story XXI. A Letter XXII. Again The Fairy Story XXIII. Aid XXIV. The Rescue XXV. The Return XXVI. The Red Rose XXVII. The Red Road XXVIII. The Battle XXIX. Defeat XXX. And Its Consequences XXXI. That Which Men Said XXXII. In the Garden XXXIII. Temptation XXXIV. The Shroud of a Soul XXXV. The Thing that was a Man XXXVI. Again the Battle XXXVII. The Pity of It All
Beautiful, gloriously beautiful in her strange, weird dark beauty
Bye little sweetheart
I do forgive—forgive and understand
Can't you find in that dead thing you call a heart just one shred of pity?
To begin a story of this kind at the beginning is hard; for when the beginning may have been, no man knows. Perhaps it was a hundred years ago—perhaps a thousand—perhaps ten thousand; and it may well be, yet longer ago, even, than that. Yet it can be told that John Schuyler came from a long line of clean-bodied, clean-souled, clear-eyed, clear-headed ancestors; and from these he had inherited cleanness of body and of soul, clearness of eye and of head. They had given him all that lay in their power to give, had these honest, impassive Dutchmen and—women—these broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped English; they had amalgamated for him their virtues, and they had eradicated for him their vices; they had cultivated for him those things of theirs that it were well to cultivate; and they had plucked ruthlessly from the gardens of heredity the weeds and tares that might have grown to check his growth. And, doing this, they had died, one after another, knowing not what they had done—knowing not why they had done it—knowing not what the result would be—doing that which they did because it was in them to do it; and for no other reason save that. For so it is of this world.