New Britain herald., 1917-02-20

What Her Mothers Letter Told.
 For my daughter Margarets- eyes 1 alone"
 1 The superscripition on the envelope ! which I held in my hand stared up at
 me with all the sentience of living
 thing. The letters were in the grabbed
 trembling, old d-fashioned chirography
 of my mother-the last words that she 1 had ever written. It was as if she l had come back from tthe dead to talk 1 to me.
 When I had fitted the tiny key, put l into my hand by my mother but few l days before she died, into the old l lock box which lay in the top of the trunk of keepsakes, the letter ad- dressed to me had been the first thing that met my eyes. I could scarcely see the handwriting for the tears which the sight of the old box she had treasured called forth. With the memory of my mothers S advice mot to open the box unless you are in desperate straits, or until the time has come when you feel that you no longer harbor the resentment | you now feel toward your father" I | hesitated for long time before breaking the seal With the letter pressed close against my tear-wet cheek I sat for long time busy with l memories of my mother and debating whether or not had the right to open 1 the letter.
 "Whcn You Read This.'' l l certainly was not in desperate l straits and I could not conscienti-
 ously say that I not longer harbored
 any resentment toward the father of
 whom l had no recollection. I felt
 that never in my life could I fully
 pardon the man who had made my
 mother suffer so terribly But the
 longing to know something of my
 father which I had felt since the
 coming into my life of Robert Gordon.
 the mysterious, elderly millionaire,
 who was the best friend of my mother
 and father, had become almost an 1 obsession with me.
 Little mother,'' I whispered, "for- | give me If 1 am doing wrong, but I 1 must know what is in this letter to l me-
 ] With trembling fingers I broke the ; seal and drew out the closely written 1 pages which the envelope contained Mothers only comfort the letter , began, and at the sight of the dear
 familiar words which I had so ofter
 heard from my mothers Ips-it was i the name she had given me when g l tiny girl. and which she used unti | the day of her death-tears agair
 blinded my eyes,"
 "'When you read this,' the shak, ! handwriting went on, I shall have left l YOU forever. It is my prayer that
 when the time comes for you to read 1 it it will be because you have forgiven your father not because you are 1T ! desperate need. How I wish I coulc ] have seen you safe in the shelter o1
 a good mans love before I had to SC away from you forever!''
 "Safe in the shelter of a good mans
 love,"I repeated the words thought
 fully. Had my mother been giver 1 her wish when she could no longer l witness its fulfilment? l was angry
 and humiliated at myself that I could
 not give a swift unqualified assent tf my own question. "A good man,
 Dicky certainly was and 1 was in the ! "shelter Of his love" at present. But
 safe with Dicky I was afraid
 could never be. Mingled always Wltf
 my love for him, my trust in him. Was 1 g. tiny undercurrent of uncertainty as to the stability of my husbands af- i lection for me.
 ~5 As I turned to my mothers letter ! again there was a tiny pang at my heart at the thought that by my mar 1 riage with Dicky I had thwarted the ] dearest wish of my little mother , heart.
 For between the lines of this 1as letter she had written me I coul6 read the unspoken thought that hat ] been in her mind since I was very ! young girl Safe in the shelter o1 ] a good mans love" meant to mA
 not1ser only one "safe in the shelter
 of Jack Bickett's love- I could not
 have grasped her meaning more ! clearly. 1 What Her Father Wished.
 But my mothers wish must forever fremain ungranted Jack was some where in France" and for me, safe