The Globe-republican. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1889-1910, 1906-09-06

Atherton said, in tired voice, turn
Ing the letters and kilograms over
listlessly. 1T isn't as though she had
cared" he repeated, DULY, opening
and closing the small drawers, one by
one, He was searching for a photo
graph that she had kept on her desk
"a likeness taken in her early girl
hood, long before he had met her.
As he felt clumsily about among
the papers letter fell out. He start
ed to replace 1t, but caught sight Of
his own name In the familiar writing
and paused. He opened 1t with trem-
bling fingers.
4 dI the best | could" he said,
slowly to himself. II couldn't help
not caring. thought couldn't
first. thought 1t would come with
time. God! how hard it has been,
how bitter hard!" He passed his thin,
nervous hand YEARLY across his col
orless face. AT least, she never
knew, never suspected, nor cared,
either way" he said, bitterly "She
was as Indifferent as--as I was"
Il wonder IL she knows now" he
breathed. Il wonder If she knows
and understands. She never seemed
to understand anything. used to
wonder how anyone could feel so lit
tie and live. / tried once to tell her
how / felt and she laughed. Said
| needed something to tone me up.
Perhaps she was right. Perhaps I
am morbid chap.
IF she had cared" he began again,
81 would have tried to be different.
l should have learned to get hold Of
her interest In some way, but that
dead calm Of hers! used to Think
1t would drive me crazy. She was
the right sort, too-or semed to be.
With her possibilities she might have
developed into wonderful woman
under the right conditions. She is
wonderful-she was" he corrected
himself, shuddering at the correction.
Il admired her more than any other
woman ever met. Poor Helen!"
he sighed as he pored over the letter
in the failing light.
He sat up, startled. Hurried to
the window, reading eagerly with
look Of intense interest on his rather
apathetic face-a look such as Helen
Atherton had never reused in all her
sadly inconsequent life with him.
Dear he read, II couldn't hope
ever to make you understand how /
love you. You have just left me-
cold, unloving, careless, as you always
are-and l (poor foolish, loving thing)
put my starved arms about your chair
and laid my lips passionately against
the spot where your dear head has
lain. ! know 1t is utterly unrecipro-
Gated, that I shall never be more to
you than | am now, and though it
breaks my heart with its desolation,
its utter despair, yet l bow to it.
Dearest, no man was ever loved more
deeply, more tenderly, than you are
o, the sadness, the heartbreak of it
all!
you thought at first you cared. If
you had been sure, then-ah, II you
had only known then-and told me.
Now 1t Is too late. l am wrapped in
a never-ending regret that will be
my portion to the end of time.
can't ease the hurt of loving unloved.
Il want you to know IL you are left
and you will be-that have always
cared. l used to hope for the day
when / should Sc your eyes flood with
gladness at my coming. l have
learned to welcome even the weari-
ness of spirit they express If only
may feel you near me.
Dear, know how 1t Is with you.
| know that the bonds have become
SO irksome that they have worn into
your very soul. I see the distaste,
the dislike-almost loathing-that pos
sesses you at times. | see It all, yet
| am powerless to release you. / can
only hide 1t all securely away under
the slow smile, the smile that you
call my everyday face.
IF you had cared, John, we should
have been very happy. I love your
work, your interests. but ! have not
dared voice it for fear-O that look!
hat cruelty Indifferent, hard, careless
ook! 1t burns into me as / write
and writhe under the torture of It,"
He sat with his head on his arms
or hours. Once he cried out In
agony: my God, If I had known!
I had known!"
At last he climbed the heavy, dark
stairway to the room above to face
lis dead. He turned back the white
,overlid with hands strangely steady
lfter his long vigil.
Her face was oddly girlish as 1t
vas In the little photo. He felt vast
enderness yelling UP within him as
10 looked. A rush Of feeling that
looded him with longing, longing for
Ter smile, for her clear-eyed look, for
he spirit Of her, brave and iRdomita-
lie as 1t had ever been. AT last he
new the truth. He could see the
oul back of the silence-back of her
pathetic gentleness of demeanor that
ad shamed his churlish outbreaks of
Oh, to tell her! to let
er know how he admired her self