The Caucasian. (Clinton, N.C.) 188?-1913, 1912-05-16


aalred Of The little nurse boldly took
II upon herself 20 send . line 20 Mar
rery Seasons. She had gotten her
carae from the sick mans rawlings:
she found Ter address In the sele-
phone book But alas! Margery was
\ thousand miles from New York She
vas down south. In Georgia nursing
her mother back 20 health-and Try
Ing TO patch up her own broken hear;
with her art.
II was q month later that return
fng 10 her northern home. Mar
gery found the letter addressed In q
strange woman.s handwriting They
had careleesiy neglected TO forward
II, and a Margery's stupeaed senses
at last took In the full realization OF
the words. she gave little husky cry
and-swooned. They brought her to
In q little while, and she again took
MP the letter and slowly re-rezd the
contents:
Dear Miss Sessoms-f you can.
please come TO the hospital right
away am writing you on my own
responsibility. Poor young DR.. Og-
den Is dying. and he talks about you
all the time-some trouble between
you-and I know you'd come IL you
could hear him.
ASK for Miss Trueheart when
you get to the hospital Hastily,
LYDIA r"
But Dwight Ogden did not die
after all. He came slowly back to
health and strength-and a shat
tered life. He had been so near re-
lief from II all, and relief had not
come. The same bleak future
stretched before him only. IL posi-
BILE, it was bleaker. The little nurse
had told him OF her letter to Mar
gerry - and Margery's failure to re-
spond. What was there left for him
to live for? Not even hope!
Margery's trembling hand sought
her throat! she felt as II she were
going to stifie. Her heart plunged
downward thousand leagues.
Dwight dead-and she had not been
able to go to him. He had died be-
neving her cruel and unforgiving
and relentless. When she could pull
herself together she arose and
dragged her aching limbs to the
telephone. She called up the hos
pital and asked for Miss Trueheart.
Miss Trueheart was ION duty" and
she falteringly inquired OF the girl
% he ~ nc~Ga had
died
oh" she gasped, "not-not dead.
Getting well-ah! Thank you so
much; I was misinformed. Goodby."
Margery never knew how she got out
the words-or how she got back to
her room. The first thing of which
she was conscious was of sitting be
fore her desk, pen in hand.
Dear Dwight.
81 have just returned from Macon,
Ca, after a six weeks visit. On my
arrival at the house / found a letter
from the girl who nursed you. Miss
Trueheart, telling me Of your serious
Illness. 1t was written the day you
were expected to die and she asked
me to come You understand now
why I did not.
Dear, can you ever forgive me?
| [ have been narrow, prejudiced, mean.
But have suffered. You don't know
| the price I've paid. Dwight-all these
wretched weeks and today when
| thought | had lost you.
There's nothing 1 can write, moth.
ing l can say, to excuse myself. And
I'm not going to try. After the way
| acted and talked that last night, OF
course you could never ask me to
| marry you again. But-but it is leap
| year, dear, and I am going to ask you
My people are getting ready to sail for
Paris in ten days. I can be ready
| for the other-in a week. AS in the
| Did days.
"Margery."
"P. S.-After all. We are only SEQ
ond cousins"