Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1904-05-12
my doctor told me that I

"To-day my doctor told me that I
must go under the knife within the
next few days. He said that there was
a slight chance, but in my heart | know
that, if do live, l will be a weak, sick
ly woman. But don't believe there is
a chance, so | want to tell you how dear
you are to me before it is too late. I
love you as only a won1an can love
the man who represents everything
that is good and strong and true to her.
For nearly two years l have waited to
hear you say what you said tonight.
Six months ago l prevented you be-
cause was not quite sure; l thought
it would be wiser for you to wait until
| you returned. | could not realize that
the glory of your love should be show
to see other women before you offered
your life to me.
David | want you to understand how
desperately hard it was to refuse to
listen to you tonight. 1t was the
greatest sacrifice | have ever made in
my life, and l prayed for strength to
do it. My whole being revolted at the
part set myself to play, although I
felt it was best for you-now and after
ward. Can you forgive me, David?"
She then rang for her maid, and,
after explaining about what was to
happen to her, she gave her the letter
and said what she wished her to do
with it.
No surgeon can ever be quite certain
to what length a disease has spread
until he starts to use the knife, and
oftentimes he finds it more or less seri-
GUS than he anticipated.
So it was that when DR.. Sanders
commenced to operate on Elizabeth
Trent he was agreeably surprised to
find that, instead of her case being
most complicated, it was merely an
ordinary one.
"She will be all right now, nurse"
the great surgeon said after the oper-
alton. Fortunately, it has not been
so serious as we feared. 1t is a de-
cidedly interesting case, and she will
pull through splendidly with careful
nursing"
1t was two weeks later when Eliza
beth asked her maid if she had de-
stroyed the letter she had given to her
on the eve of the operation.
Destroy it, Miss Elizabeth" the
woman answered. 81 thought you said
to post it if you lived"
ooh Harmon! You surely have not
sent that letter."
Eyes, Miss Elizabeth, | have. I
thought you wanted me to destroy it
if anything happened to you, and to
post it if you got safely through ~
operation. | waited until last night to
make sure that you did not have a re-
lapse, then | thought it was time"
Before Elizabeth could answer a
nurse came in with a florists box in
her hand and a bright smile On her
face.
"This is for you, Miss Trent" she
said. "Shall I unfasten it?"
Elizabeth cried out in joyous sur
prise at the wealth of beautiful flowers
with which the box was filled. But
her eyes went beyond them to a letter
that lay partly hidden in their leaves.
at is from David" she whispered,
softly, as she gazed at the dear, IA
miliar handwriting. AS she opened it
with quick, trembling fingers, the nurse
and Harmon quietly went out Of the
room.
my darling" Elizabeth read, 81
have just received your letter. Only
half an hour before, | met Mansfield.
and he told me Of your illness. I
thought he must be mistaken, but he
said his wife had been to see you at
the hospital yesterday. My first i'm
pulse was to go and beg them to let
me see you, but I remembered that you
would not care to have me. Feeling
deadly miserable, I went back to my
rooms, and there found your letter
waiting for me. Oh, Elizabeth! 1t
seems too wonderful to be true--that
you should love me like that. Why,
my dear, you were never more lovable
in my eyes than you were that night.
You looked i'll and tired, and l longed
to have the right to take care of you
and shield you from all annoyances.
When l remember the hard things l
said feel that it will take all my life
to endeavor to wipe them out. Eliza
beth, almost as 500 as you read this
I will be with you. And then-my
atonement will commence."-Black
and White.