The Montgomery advertiser. [volume] (Montgomery, Ala.) 1885-1982, 1902-02-23
THE ADVERTISERS
DAILY SHORT STORY

| Don't tell me Tiff You rather not;
Perhaps" she began, had no risnt
In the world to ask you such question
SO Rpsaty Don't soo tell wa me Many amy
thing that is-that may be- inc
handclasp frightened on both sides. ana
the older woman lifted the delicate PAIN
Of her friend to her lips hs ano sh nei said
softly. u want to tell you, dear. II YOU
care to hear 1t. 1t can harm no one for
you to know. I will not give the names,
for that would hardly be Loyal .yit r even
ty-five years ago, when was a pride
and my splendid hero paid beautiful
court to me, as he did all his life long,
In his own gracious way I'M Wan so a
with us-the old Metropolitan, you VIII
remember. We four grew to be great
friends. BY and by-only God can tell
why-that lovely girl went away with
another man, a commercial traveller He
was greatly inferior, In all ways, to her
own husband, who adored her. 1t was
a strange and inexplicable thing. L nave
never understood 1t in the least. My
when we realized what had happened,
but he was like. frozen creature,
stunned and helpless. l think our very
happiness hurt him to the quick. But
manded hard work, for he was already
achieving success, and fame was. easily
within his reach. 1t has come to him
in ample measure since, poor fellow! He
of him lived, but most of him died. By
and by. he ceased to speak of her, and
we know that silence was better. Fiji
teen years went by. He had been ele.
waited to the bench. My dear, splendid
hero had died. and I had come here to
this quieter house to live, when one day
he called upon me. as was usual from
time to time during all those years; but
/ glance
was trembling and almost on the verge
of tears. He did not say word when
I welcomed him. but simply handed me
letter and sat down with his head
between his hands while l read 1t: She
had drifted back here. She was alone
and in want She had appealed to him!
When l had finished reading the letter
he looked up and groaned aloud.
Every one else has forgotten he
said. Is it asking too much of you?
Will you see her? Will you see that
she does not suffer so long as she may
live? Will you let her think it is from
you" He handed me a roll of bills. His
hand trembled and was cold. Tears
rolled, utterly unheeded. down his drawn,
miserable face. I cannot-for ,! love her
still-and, my God, nv God! 1 could
never trust her-nor myself-if l saw her!
But she must not want for anything that
mere money can buy.
There was long silence between the
two women. Then the younger one said
softly. Don't try to tell the rest. !
think 1 understand it. These roses"
She hesitated to voice her hasty conclu-
sion. 1t seemed a dissertation.
THE roses said the tired voice, gently,
were sent to her every Saturday night,
with no card. They were meant to sooth
and rest her during those two pitiful
years she lived-a morphine wreck-a
broken, wretched woman. her beauty, her
delicacy. her charm all gone. She wanted
for nothing that could be bought. 1 saw
to that. l went to see her every Satur-
day. With me went money, always. and
always, too. a great bunch of La France
roses. They came to me in time for
my visit to her weekly. He never saw
her, alive, even by accident. She died
eight years ago. Her grave is cared for
carefully, and there is a place beside her
for him. He Is still on the bench. You
would know him II were to speak his
name. His story is known to but few
who live today-to none who live here.
I promised him at that last pitiful meet
ing beside her silent form to see that
he is buried beside her should I outlive
him. l have never seen him since that
day. except by accident. as one might
meet a stranger on the street, but those
roses have come to me every Saturday
night, and will do so, l think. as long
as we both live. 1t Is his way Of thank
ing me for my care of her. 1t is his way
of telling me that he does not forget"