The Washington times., 1918-08-11

never meet again, ana tne pain OF IL all
kept me silent yesterday. when my heart
was breaking with the anguish and long.
ing to tell you howl loved you. how you
were not going away suffering alone.
,"oh. It has, all crept upon Us, this
d. great great love! It was fate, and 1t
was useless to struggle against It. Only
we must not let 1t be the reason Of our
doing wrong-that would be to degrade
1t, and love should not live in an atmos-
phere OF degradation. could not go
away with you, could not have you for
my lover without breaking a bargains
bargain over which have given my
word.
-of course did not know what love
meant when was married. In France
one does not think Of that as connected
with husband. Il vas Just duty to
be got through to help papa and my sis
ters. But my part Of the bargain was
myself, and in return for giving that |
have money and a home, and papa and
Sarah and Clementine are comfortable
and happy. And as Josiah has kept his
'side Of it, so must keep mine. and be
faithful to him always in word and deed.
Dearest, it is too terrible to think Of
this material aspect to a bond which
now know should only be one OF love
and faith and tenderness. But Il Is a
bond. and have given my word. and no
happiness could COME to US II ! should
break it, as Josiah las not brokeS his.
And oh. Hector. you do not know how
good he has always been TO me. and
generous and indulgenti Il is not his
fault that he Is not Of our class. and
must do my utmost to make him happy,
and atone for this wound which have
unvittingly given him, and which he is,
and must always remain. unconscious of.
-0h, II something could have warned
me. after that first time we met. that
would love you--had begun to love you
even then there would have been time to
draw back, to save US BOTH perhaps,
from suffering. And yet. and yet. do
not know. we might have missed the
greatest and noblest good OF all our
lives.
Dearest. want you to keep the mem
ory of me as something happy. Each
year, when the sprins-time comes and
the young fresh green. want you to
look back on our day at Versailles, and
to say to yourself Life cannot be all
sad, because nature gave the earth the
returning SPRING And some Spring
must come for us. too-if only in our
hearts.
And now. o my beloved. goodbye! I
cannot even tell to you the anguish
which is wringing my heart. II is all
summed up in this. love youi love
youi and we must say forever a fare
we'll! THEODORE"
"P. S.-I am sending this to your
home"
slipped from Josiah's nerveless hands, and
Tor many minutes he sat as one stricken
blind and dumb. Then his poor, plebeian
1gure seemed to crumple up, and with an
cry of rage and despair he
stretched arms across the breakfast-table.
How long he remained there he never
<new. II seemed a whole lifetime later
\ ahen he began to realize things-to know
where he was-to remember.
"Oh. Cod" he said. "Oh, God!"
He picked up the letter and read it all
'ver again, weighing every word.
Who was this thief who had stolen his
wife? Hector? Hector? Yes, 1t was Lord
he remembered now he had
leard him called that at Beechleigh. He
would like to kill him. But was he a
hief, after al? or was not-he-Josiah
he thief? To have stolen her happiness,
md her life. Her young life that might
AVE been so fair, though how did he know
hat at the timei He had never thought
4 such things. She was what he desired,
nd he had bought her with gold. No, he
vas not thief, he had bought her with
,old, and because of that she was going
o keep to her bargain, and make him a
rue and faithful wife.
"Oh, God" he said again. "Oh, Cod"
Presently the business method of his life
aDe back to him and helped him. He
must think this matter over carefully and
ee II there was any way out 1t all looked
lack enough-his future, that but an hour
go had seemed so full of promise. He
ang for the waiter and gave orders to
ave the breakfast things taken away.
hat accomplished, he requested that he
hould not be disturbed upon any pretext
whatsoever. And then. drawn up to his
he began deliberately to
hink
Yes, from the beginning Theodore had
cen good and meek and docile He re-
rendered a thousand gentle, unselhsh
hings she had done for him. Her patience,
er kindness, her unfailing sympathy in
II his ills, the consideration and respect
nth which she treated him. When-when
ould this thing have begun? In Paris?