Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1913-01-16
SUCH cHUMS
BY NEWTON auNeEY.


chair under the dropping branches Of
blossom-laden chestnut tree when
Mary Lidiard crossed the lawn, swing
ing putter in her right hand.
Through his half-closed eyes Hewitt
gazed at her critically, and he could
not help admitting that she made the
fairest of pictures. The breeze caught
her curls, and with the sunlight turn
ed them into shimmering sea of
gold A simple. well-cut gown of some
soft, white material showed the grace
of her figure as she walked. Her eyes
shone with an unmistakable light as
their gaze fell on Hewitt.
Tell me again that you love me,
Denis,' she whispered.
Il love you, dear, he answered.
Il shall always be hearing you say
that" she said IN low tones later as
she turned to go into the house to
pack for a few days visit at a
friends house. You'll write to me
often, won't you, Denis?''
Hewitt WINGED as though he had
been stabbed. Several times he had
thought that while she was away he
would write and tell her the truth
that he did not love her. But he was
too much Of coward to tell her to
her face and see those deep blue
eyes grow heavy with misery.
Somehow II seemed quite a natural
thing for man to love woman and
she not to love him, but for woman
to love man who did not care in
the same way for her-it seemed
nothing short of brutal.
At length in one of her letters
Mary wrote the following paragraph:
Il can't help thinking Denis, that
your letters seem as though they are
written with an effort, and it makes
me fear that what have thought be-
fore is really true. 1t seems dread.
full to doubt you, dear, but it would
be more dreadful to let matters reach
an irreyocable stage and then to
doubt.
I'VE have always been chums,
Denis, and now we are promised for
something deeper than friendship.
Can you say from the bottom Of your
heart that this is what you desire?
Perhaps / am wrong In doubling
you; but If / am not, oh, please do not
hesitate to say so. Don't think you
will be doing the right and honorable
thing by ma<sAng your real feelings"
How had sfr- guessed? He had tried
SO hard to be all he was supposed to
be.
He wanted her, and yet there was
something missing, and she had rec
ognized it.
He felt so ashamed of himself, SO
lgnominous. He would have given the
world to have been able to answer
Mary's letter as true lover would
have done, but instead he wrote:
| You were right to doubt me, Mary.
There is no woman on earth ! care
for like you, but it is not the love a
man should feel for his future wife.
1t is cowardly to fly to excuses, but /
shall always feel that our parents
| we're esponsible-they rushed us in
1 to the engagement
What will you think of me, Mary?
We have always been such chums,
and now l am refusing the best gift
that the world could give me- 1t
makes me feel so mean and con-
tempible, dear; but, as you say, it will
be better to sever while we have the
chance. a
Il don't suppose you will see me
again for a long time. shall go
away somewhere don't care where
but | feel that ! want to hide"
He walked down to the village post
Office and posted the letter himself.
Then he turned away and walked
slowly down lane, his head bent in
thought, trying to picture the future
without Mary.
He slept badly that night for think
ing of Mary He began to feel that,
though they were not to be husband
and wife, he did not want to lose her.
Next morning he thought of her
reading the letter, and he felt he
would have given anything had he
not written it or been able to regain
possession of it ere it reached her
hands.
His thoughts were interrupted by
the arrival OF servant with a tele-
gram. Tearing itlopen, groan broke
from his lips as he read:
Come at once. Mary i'll.
'IIDIARD."
And in that moment Denis Hewitt
knew he loved Mary, and FASTENED to
her bedside.
He seemed to wait an eternity out
side the door of the room. He did not
see the nurse who watched him curl
ously, and he scarcely saw Mr.. and
Mrs. Lidiard as they came out of the
room.
Then he entered, his gaze riveted
on the thin, white face framed in a
mass of golden hair
Mary he said huskily; ooh.
MaryI"
Then he stumbled forward and
knelt at the bedside, holding her frail
hand and gazing beseechingly into hex
eyes.
- - IL.