Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1904-10-15

OBERT MALCOLM had neve

JW been called Bob" by any one
until his recently acquired wife,
with coquettish pretense of shyness,
had so addressed him.
He had known her but short time
when he won her. And now, at the
end of six blissful months, he was sit
ting In his splendid library. perplexed
and miserable, and gloomily cycling the
embers of a CRATE fire and trying to
which threatened to wreck his future
could be explained away If only he had
the courage to ask her.
On coming home that afternoon he
had gone to the sitting room and had
found it empty. Turning to leave he
saw piece of note paper lying on the
| floor, as though it had been brushed off
her desk as she rose in a hurry. In
STOPPING to replace it, his eye caught
two words, the beginning of a letter.
| Dear Tom" Dear Tom! Could It be
that there was a dear Tom in her life
of whom he knew nothing? The letter
read:
Dear Tom-If / were to be asked
why am writing to you should have
to admit that l am yielding to an i'm
pulse. My whole life has been made
up of impulses, and l never battled
with them but once-alas, the very
time should have yielded. You know
we'll what | mean, that night you re-
nOunced me, renounced me while your
blood was on fire with love for me,
which knew and felt and revealed in,
when your eyes dumbly begged me to
refuse to be renounced and your lips
told me it would be better to part All,
If l had only yielded then to the i'm
pulse to tell you l loved you well
enough to share your poverty and the
task of caring for your poor, helpless
father. How we'll | remember that
dear, delightful, cruel summer in Dork
ing.
You came, dear, and you stepped
into my heart with that first smile on
your brave, sunny face. Then after
ward, Aunt Sarah, when | told her Of
our betrothal, said in her Icy, sneering
tones: I congratulate you upon your
discretion. 1t Is q fitting thing that
you should marry Tom Spencer and let
your early poverty be merged into mid
dle-aged and elderly poverty. AS Tom
Spencer's wife you will have the salts
faction of knowing that you have be
fore you such a life as your mother
has led, only intensified, since your
life will be encountered by his help
less, paralytic old father
tom, dear, do not utterly despise
me when tell you that her words had
their weight. l did not fear the pow
erty for l knew you were bound to
succeed, If only, dear one, you were
not hampered In your career by your
father. l knew you were fond of him,
and that while he lived you would keep
him with you-that even l could not
influence you to send him away. So
when you told me we had better part
offered no protestation. l knew your
heart was aching and that you needed
comforting words from me. 4 knew
had only to speak one word TO break
down the barrier and have you take
me to your heart forever. | did not
speak that word. Though my heart
cried out to you l could not tell you
that loved you well enough to share
your burden. l did not speak that
word. l am married now. Ny hus-
band loves me, and | am rich beyond
my fondest expectations. 1 have all
those things which my luxurious and
expensive tastes craved-yet | am not
happy. This is indeed my farewell
dear one. You know now-every word
In this letter has told you-what you
are to me. You will not misunder-
stand-you will not come to me. 1t is
over, Tom, and"
Here the writing ended abruptly.
Robert Malcolm was a loyal man,
and though the evidence was against
her he refused to believe his wife gull
ty Of all that the letter implied. He
told himself that II he dared to ask her
for an explanation she would give It,
and 1t would be satisfactory. To ask
her to confess a dishonorable act was
also to confess a lack of confidence In
her.
While he was sitting there the door
opened noiselesly. A slight girlish fig
ure stole across the thick carpet and
behind his chair. Two soft small hands
were clasped before his eyes and a
voice whispered:
Guess who 1t is"
] His heart gave a great bound and