The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1904-05-18
told him? It would have been so sv,e,

told him? 1t would have been so swee.
to have had his loving sympathy!
And if her operation was to be as
serious, and the result as fatal, as she
feared, was there not some way in
which she might, before it was too late,
wipe out the false impression she had
! made tonight? She could not bear
the thought that he would think bit
terly of her-afterward Surely it
would be some comfort to him to know
the truth then. Yes, he must be told.
She would write letter and confess
all. If she lived, it would be de-
stroyed; il she died, it must be deliv-
cred.
II have sent you away from me-" she
wrote, and am now breaking my
heart because l will never look into
your face again. David, tonight
acted a part to you. forced myself
to be cold and false. l made myself
fright to prevent you telling me of
your love. l knew that if you did so
would not have the strength to resist
you. did not want you to guess that
l cared. l wanted you to think me a
heartless f1irt-to despise me-any-
thing, rather than you should regret
or have heartache.
To-day my doctor told me that I
must go under the knife within the
next few days. He said that there was
u slight chance, but in my heart know
that, if do live, will be weak, sick
ly woman. But l don't believe there is
chance, so want to tell you how dear
you are to me before it is too late
love you as only woman can love
the man who represents everything
that is good and strong and true to her.
For nearly two years have waited to
hear you say what you said tonight.
Six months ago prevented you be-
cause l was not quite sure; 1 thought
it would be wiser for you to wait until
you returned. l could not realize that
the glory of your love should be show
cred on me. 1 thought it fair for you
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 l set myself to play, although l
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-
ation Fortunately, it has not been
so serious as we feared 1t is 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"
"Oh Harmon! You surely have not
sent that letter."
Eyes, Miss Elizabeth, I have. I
thought you wanted me to destroy it
if anything happened to you, and to
post it if you got safely through IT,
operation. / waited until last night to
make sure that you did not have re-
lapse, then l thought it was time"
Before Elizabeth could answer a
nurse came in with florists box in
her hand and bright smile on her
face.
This is for you, Miss Trent" she
said. Shall | 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.
cit 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, "l
have just received your letter. Only
half an hour before, 1 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 MISUNDERSTANDING My first i'm
pulse was to go and beg them to let
me see you, but remembered that you
would not care to have me. Feeling
deadly miserable, 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