The suburban citizen., 1900-09-29

| os, yes, yes Mrs. kempt0n SAT-
slowly. "She was a rare woman.
knew her intimately-better than an.
one else, 1 think. l knew all the i'm
happy circumstances Of her life; he
horrid, vulgar mother; her poor
dreamy, inefficient father; their power
ty; how hard she had to work. Yoi
were in love with her. Why didn't Yol
marry herr"
"She wouldn't have had me-"
Did you ask herr"
"No. 1t was needless. 1t went with
out saying"
You can never tell. You ought I,
have asked her"
1T was ON the tip OF my tongue
of course to do so a hundred times
My life was passed in torturlng myself
with the question whether l had any
chance, in hoping and fearing. But a,
often as found myself alone with hel
| knew 1t was hopeless. Her manner
TO me is one of frank friendliness
There was no installing it. She nevel
thought of loving mew
you were wrong not TO ask her One
never can be sure. Oh, why didn't you
ask herY His old friend spoke Will
great feeling.
He looked at her surprised and eager
do you really think she might have
cared for me?"
"Oh, You ought TO have told her,
ought to have asked her." she repeated
"Well-now you know why went
away"
yes"
when beard of her-her-hel
death'-he could not bring himself to
say her suicide-"there was nothing
else for me to do. 1t was so hideOus.
so unutterable, To go on with my old
life, in the old place, among the old
people, was quite impossible. ] want
ed to follow her, to do what she had
done. The only alternative was to fly
as Car from England, as far from my.
self, as | could"
Sometimes" Mrs. Kempton con
fessed by-and-by, sometimes l won.
dered whether, possibly. your disap
pearance could have had any such con.
nection with ATary's death-it followed
it so Immediately. ] wondered some
times whether, perhaps. you had cared
for her. But l couldn't believe tit
was only because the two things nap
pened one upon the other Oh, why
didn't you tell her? 1t is dreadful,
DREADFUL
When he left her she still SAT for
a little while before tie fire.
life is a chance to make mistakes
a chance to make mistakes. Life is a
chance to make mistakes"
1t was a phrase she had met ia a
book she was reading the other day.
Then she had smiled at it; now it rang
in her ears like the voice of a mock.
ing demon.
yes, chance to make mistakes"
she said, half aloud.
She rose and went to her desk. un.
locked a drawer, and turned over its
contents, and took out letter-an old
letter for the paper was yellow ant
the ink was faded. She came back to
the freside, unfolded the letter, and
read it. 1t covered six pages Of note
paper, in a small feminine hand. 1t
,Vas letter Nary Isora had written to
her, Margaret Kempton, the hight be.
fore she died, more than thirty years
ago The writer recounted the many
harsh circumstances of her life, but
they would all have been Dearable, size
said, save for one great and terrible
secret. She had fallen in love with
a man who was scarcely conscious Of
her existence; she, little obscure Ital-
ian music teacher, had fallen in love
with Theodore Vellan. 1t was as if
she had fallen in love with an inhabit-
ant Of another planet; the worlds they
respectively belonged to were far
apart. She loved him-she loved him
and she knew her love was hopeless
and she could not bear it. Oh, yes! she
met him sometimes here and there, at
houses where she went to play, and to
give lessons. He was civil to her, he
was more than civil-he was kind; ne
talked to her about literature and
music
HE is so gentle, so strong, so wise;
but he never thought of me as a wom-
ana woman who could love, who
could be loved. Why should he? If
the moth falls in love with the star,
the moth must suffer l am
cowardly; am weak; 1 am what you
will; but have more than / can bear.
Life is too hard-too hard. Tomorrow
l shall be dead. You will be the only
person to know why ! died, and you
will keep my secret"
"Oh, the pity Of 1.-THE pity of ity'
murmured Mrs. Kempton. 81 wonder
whether | ought to have shown hiIa
Mary's lcttcrY-Wayerley Magazine.
Rewards IngIorious Game Bag.
In Telemarken last summer a man
turned up one day with the mortal re-