Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1918-09-13
LETTERS
BY MILDRED WHITE.
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sCopyrignt, 1918. Western Nsoyss'sNs

Dear Little White Rose:
I can see your dark eyes widen ,n
surprise at this mode of address VII
you glance at my signature. Bur Io ,u
far away and dare brave your indie
nation.
This is the name I gave you in NV
heart, looking down that first ejorion,
morning from the window of NV conn
try stopping place Beneath the wiz
dow, you were picking white rosas
from trellis. and your appraised fsoo
was as sweet and fair as they Wben
we met at Breakfast and our hostess
muinbled your name in introductjon l.
seemed to me less a reality than Tho
one had given you. Mrs. Friedman
she said with provincial formalitv
meet Mr.. Hazelton, "and involuntariiy
you smiled-sniled. and changed fron,
gloomy fo"boding, to joyful anticino-
ton, my necessary stay in the loneIi.
ness of the foothills. Mine, was hig
engineering job, and past experience
had taught me to expect little in the
way of country hospitality.
TO find you in all your lovelinass
hidden in this retreat was good for
tune indeed. To be allowed to watch
s-ou unobtrusively as you bent over
your book and sewing would be pleas.
ure enough-so much your smile had
done for me. "Why?" / asked myself
over and over again, ''were you hereY'
Your simplest 'frock bore the finished
mark of a great city, your CONVERSE
tion, of which at first you were ungen-
erous, betrayed study, years perhaps
of travel abroad. OF yourself you gave
no Information, and our usually gar
rulous hostess no doubt also had been
trained to secrecy. SO my interest,
with my admiration, grew.
When at evening | would slip gav
to my room for pretended labor it vas
to hear you play in the twilight, upon
the old piano in the ''parlor" below.
And what music your fingers brought
forth from the yellowed keys Often
in listening | forgot your enchanting
self; far away your music carried me
into land of dreams. / knew fIom
the first that l loved you! Yet your
reserve held me ever aloof. Desper-
ately guarded against betrayal, Test
you should Withdraw from me Your
SWEEP companionship.
The sadness of your eyes haunted
and tortured me, too. with fancieS Of
an unhappy past. My associates spoke
of you as The Mysterious Lady," and
wondered.
Then came the night before my de
parture, my heart ached with lonelt
ness at the thought of being away
from your presence. And as we sat
there on the little porch, our hostess
rocking comfortably near by, the very
air seemed pregnant with my love, and
it seemed that you must know; as
gaZed into your shadowy corner ]
felt all at once that your heart was
reaching out-calling to me also-and
SO it is that l write this letter.
Formally we babe good-by, oui
hands barely touching. Now, across
the miles send my plea. love you,
| want you for my wife, White Rose;
may come to you?
Yours,
JOHN HAZLETON
Dear Mr.. Hazleton.
My eyes did not widen in surprise
as read your letter, but often they
were filed with tears because Of my
own remorse. To you feel is due an
explanation of my stay in the house
Of the foothills. to you alone, l make
confession and apology. win you be-
lieve that in the joy of our frlendliness
/ intended no deceit? foresaw no fu'
ture sorrow; yet it has come to US
both.
When our hostess called me MISS
friedman" in introduction she used
the common phrasing of the commu'
nifty. Only at the last became aware
of your natural Interpretation. Years
ago, when a schoolgirl, studied mu'
sic in Germany, and in the glow OF
youthful romance | married there
fellow pupil. Handsome and OF en-
gaging manner was Peter FriedmaDh'
After marriage the husband became
cruel master. Mine was bitter aWaA-
ening-a young girl separated by her
own rash act from the c0mpanlonsIhp
of the family who would have shei-
tered her.
left Peter Friedman, hoping 10
hide from his persistent pursuit, IN my
own country. Then the war broke out
For a few years at least / would De al
peace, in the quiet spot where you
found me. Even here his letters sougn'
me out.
Marriage with me must always De
tie. though its bands become unbear
able. So good-by, John Hazelton. Inc
shadow in my eyes does come from ah
unhappy past. But here among l'e
fonthills shall have peace, anc
M mory of white roses.
In contrition,
MARION FRIEDMAN
Dear Mister Hazelton:
When Won was here you sald YOU