The Worthington advance., 1904-09-23

OF being q trlne untruth1ul.
During the next year the letters con-
tinued, and the new Dora grew upon him
daily. Once he honestly wrote: Il pre-
fer your friendship to the love of any
other woman" And again: "You are
such q friend! What would 1t be to be
loved by you!" Not once did the thought
come to him to try again for her love.
Impossible!
And her letters grew more sweetly
confidential. She told him as she would
a brother, about the proposals she re-
ceived. And he, like q brother, advised
her to think well and do nothing hastily.
OF one suitor he wrote: II think he will
win If he manages his campaign prop
erly." And he believed it, for he had.
all along, had a suspicion that
this old friend was the one who
had stood in his light. Ben
son was not jealous; he was nightly
concerned, though, about the possible
effect of her engagement on their rfriend-
ship. He did not see how he could exist
without her letters. But the suitor did
not win.
When the third year was nearing an
end. Dora's letters became a strange
mixture of irritation and tenderness.
Was she we'll? Was she happy? Did
teaching wear on her nerves? He asked
these questions again and again, and
she answered.: Il am weary of this
dull town, and I'm SO lonesome some-
times don't see why you will not come
to see me-"
At last there came day when Benson
rose from reading one of her letters and
paced his room nervously. Il know it,"
he said, exultantly Il know it! She
may never love me, but she can never
love another man so long as we are such
friends" And he was happy.
He could not tell at what moment
the thought first came to him that per-
haps she might yet learn to love him.
Impossible, of course, for she had not
seen him in three years, but still the
thought would creep into his heart,
and with it came terror. 1t could not be.
He wouldn't let her, for he was un-
worthy. Once, he thought of the but
terfly Dora's love would have made him
insanely happy for hours, but now
Queen Dora must not lower herself by
loving him. It was glory enough to oe
her friend.
So he refused again and again to visit
her At last, his suspicion became al
most a certainty, and then he told her
frankly of it, and of his own utter un-
worthiness. And she answered as
frankly. "Perhaps what you say is true,
l cannot tell unless l see you. Won't
you Gomez But he could not bring
himself to the point of risking all in one
interview. If he overcame the feeling
of unworthiness, and went to beg for her
love, what If she couldn't love him? He
confessed to her that he was rank cow
ard and laggard in love.
Then: Il shall be going through
your town next Thursday on my way to
Chicago. If do not see you at the sta
ton, l shall never forgive you."
And so he was to see her again after
three years. A new terror came upon
him. He dreaded to find her the same
childish girl-woman who had fiuttered
her filmy laces and faded away. Yet
that was the vision that gazed at him
innocently wherever he turned his eyes.
mo, no." he muttered, II do not love
you. love the Dora Of the letters.
cannot be civil to you. want to see
Yours sincerely, Dora Hartly.' I love
Your own true friend, Dora.
%H4N h. h0
caught sight Of her. He had forgotten
how small she was, for she was, some
how, quite tall in her letters. Yes, the
same innocent butterfly-butr different.
She looked very little older, but in the
lines of the prettily odd face were writ
principles fully formed and nobler than
his own, and thoughts lofty and beau
tiful He knew suddenly that they were
all there three years before. but he, the
fool, had loved her for her girlish win
someness alone, and had overlooked en-
tirely the signs of her true womanly
beauty.
Nov, SIR" with the same toss of the
golden head, and the same birdlike
touch of the fingers Oh lis coat. "Why
have you been so ungallant? Make your
excuses
"You know why didn't come" he
said.
II was willing to risk 1t. You are not
generous, SIR"
But your friendship has grown so
dear to me that couldn't risk marrirg
it again."
II told you that would risk it, Don't
you understand? Oh, you perverse
friend. You'd better go now, Mr.. Ben
son. the bell is-ringing."
"Dora." he cried. will you marry
me?"
My weary face, with mad ming guile;
nightmare OF a ballot box