The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1913-03-13
ALWAYS SUCH CHUMS
BY NEWTON suNcEY.

Denis Hewitt was lounging I'M
| gracefully but comfortably in a deck
chair under the dropping branches OF
q blossom-laden chestnut tree wher
Mary Lidiard crossed the lawn, swing.
ing a 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 . shimaering sea OF
gold. A simple, wellcut 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.
II shall always be hearing you say
that" she said In low tones later az
she turned to 60 into the house to
pack for q few days visit at q
friends house. You'll write to mo
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. :. BIZ. he was
too much of S-,varo to tell her to
her face and see those deep blue
eyes grow heavy with misery.
Somehow 1t seemed quite a natural
thing for man to love a woman and
she not to love him, but for q woman
to love a 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:
II can't help thinking, Denis, that
your letters seem as though they are
written with an effort, and it makes
me fear that what l 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 irrevocable stage and then to
doubt.
I'VE have always been chums,
Denis, and now we are promised for
J.
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 masking your real feelings"
How had she guessed? He had tried
80 hard to be all he was supposed I'd
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 a true lover would
have done, but instead he wrote:
You were right to doubt me, Mary.
There is no woman on earth I 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
were responsible-they rushed us in
to the engagement.
What will you think of me, Mary?
We have always been such chulns
and now 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.
Il don't suppose you will see me
again for long time. l 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 a 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 we're 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 tele-
gram. Tearing it open, a groan broke
from his lips as he read:
"Come at once. Mary i'll.
'LIDIARD."
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: "oh,
Mary"
Then he stumbled forward and
knelt at the bedside. holding her frail
hand and gazing beseechingly into her
eyes.
I'm glad you've come, Denis" she
said.
. e"I wanted to see you so much"
Then that half-wistful, half-puzzled
expression came into her eyes as she
gazed at him, and he WINGED.