The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1919-08-26
MY DEARlE!
BY MILDRED WHITE.

might fall so that he could thinl
things out In restful darkness. His
brain was weary going over it all anC
his heart seemed to have grown ole
and weary, too. Love had hit hin
| hard, and love, in Brant's life haC
heretofore been an unknown quantity
He had been amused at Its effect upon
several of his bachelor friends, trans
forming the reckless into model hus
bands or bringing deep gravity to the
lives of gay and thoughtless, through
disappointment.
He, strong, confident and good to
look upon, had not considered the pos
sibillty of being numbered among the
latter, yet here he was suffering as he
had never suffered-in the realization
of a hopeless love. Why should fate
have chosen to mock him.
Gay MacClaren was known across
the continent for the charm of her
wonderful voice. He, himself, had lis
tened breathless to its rendition In the
photograph. And Gay MacClaren's love
ly face was a favorite with magazine
illustrators.
"Our Cay" the press referred to
her and this gifted brilliant young
woman who had captivated nations
admiration, was the object of Brant
Williams alteration.
"Who was he? he reflected gloom
lily, that he dare offer even homage
to this woman-he an humble clerk In
a city's business concern
Brant had lived a sacrificing life
but he gave himself no credit for this
the dear invalid mother who was
gone had been to him a comfort as
well as care. No-he was a nobody,
a ridiculous nobody in his constant fol-
lowing after this glorious rainbow, for
Brant had neglected no opportunity
since his first marvellous meeting with
her Of seeing his goddess.
The wife of the senior member Of
the firm had taken a motherly interest
in him from his days Of bookkeeping !;
she liked his courteous manner. She
relied implicitly upon his advice in
business matters Of her own; she
liked, too the wave of his heavy hair
and the frank gaze of his dark eyes.
Brant's employer had nodded when
his wife expressed her fiattering opin-
ion of his clerk.
"Reliable fellow" he said So when
Mrs. Whiting gave her after-opera re-
ceptlon, at which the celebrated sing
er was present, Brant was presented
TO Miss Gay MacClaren quite as
though it were the most natural thing
In the world for an humble clerk to at
tend a feted beauty, and Miss Gay
herself seemed as naturally" pleased.
But Brant was dazzled, strangely
happy-strangely respondent. He had
remained in this contradictory state
ever since.
Recklessly he followed the girl from
the opera to every drawing-room
which Mrs. Writings influence could
open and now, at the last, realizing his
own helpless plight, Rrant was going
away as the only means Of saving his
self-respect.
If he remained he must reveal his
presumptuous secret; he would put
the ocean between his beloved and
himself before he should bring upon
her the pain of discovery. For he
knew that to bring sorrow to any
creature would be like sorrow to this
tender-hearted woman.
In fancy he heard again the lit of
her speaking voice with always its
hint of song. He recalled poignantly
the endearing glance Of her beautiful
eyes as she sang her Irish lyrics, and
Brant wondered, vaguely, if 1t had
been Mrs Writings kindness of heart.
which had prompted her to persuade
the senior member, to name himself as
the firms agent abroad.
Brant arose abruptly and left the
office. This was his last night Of see
ing her. He had promised himself this
memory and Mrs. Whiting had helped.
She had not forgotten him with an in
vitatlon to her evening of music"
Gay MacClaren sat among her ad-
mirers as Brant entered the room. A
viOllnist was playing as she bent for
ward to bow to him and her face was
sweetly serious. Then as he sank
sadly back into his chair little Gay
crossed the rsom, pausing at his side.
For a moment her smile flashed at
him.
"To you" she murmured and went
through the applauding throng to the
piano.
81 will play my own accompani-
ment," she announced, "improvising as
/ go along" Then Brant heard her
thrilling, joyous voice:
''Ye may wander far away. but yen
never, never stay;
Yell be coming back to me again my
dearie
Though We cross the ocean wide, an the
stretchin' lands beside,
Sure your heart with tender longin'
will grow weary.
And II you further roam, it will not be
you alone
That's grlevin' with a longin' sad an
weary;
For nv own heart beats for you with q
love that's deep and true,
You can have It, for the askin', oh, my
dearie."
Laughingly the fSyorite broke away
from the opportunities Of her audi
ence.
VUhita- -faoad aaOa. pronf mat bar In