Smyrna times., 1919-04-30
The Undiscovered

has had some romance in his life at
some time or other, of son,u Alnd.'
A mild grunt from the three men
met this statement, and each gazed
into the CRATE with curiously express
sions.
"Some of u.s." voucbsafed Forde a
bit grimly, shave something more
than mere romance" which always
seems somewhat intangible to me
moonlight and summer nights, and the
frivolity of things"
"Yes, but we men forget easily"
interrupted Davids, checking what
promised to be a voluble discourse on
the philosophy-it's the women who
feel the iron in their souls, and who
live on and love on, and die with the
wonder of it undiscovered"
"Quite rue" remarked Deming,
who had hitherto been silent and alb
stracted; land l will tell you of just
such a case"
Somehow all present felt that some
thing was Forthcoming.
"Boys," he continued quietly and
with an odd depth to his voice, "we've
been good pals, all of us, and I alone
have been reticent and secretive-now
I'm going to show my hand.
"When l was 25 was rather unlike
most men at the same age. My life
had been, and was, composed of out
door sports, and getting ahead in my
fathers Understanding good the
name he had left me.
Women to me simply did not exist.
Just about then came my one serious
illness-typhoid-and was beastly
low, nurses and specialists, and vile
treatment, and all that, and finally
tedious convalescence, frightened only
by the unobstructive but untiring at
tentions of my housekeeper
"One day when l was learning the
use of my limbs again, was saunter-
ing about the house, and in the library
l chanced upon book left there. Pre-
| sumably the housekeeper had been
reading it.
The book contained some closely
written sheets of paper, and how l
came to read something not for my
eyes l shall never know, but read
them l did. 1t is that letter that
makes the love of a woman forever
impossible for me. carry it with me
always" his hand rose tentively to his
breast pocket. "That letter." he re-
slmed, "laid bare a woman-soul, all
the fierce tenderness, the sublime un-
selfshness the glorious self-abnega-
tion of a woman for undeserving man.
AS l read l knew that the writer of
that letter was the one woman in the
world for me.
"And felt, for the first time in my
egOtistical, self-suficient career, a
strange doubt, a curious abasement.
"The following week / was to de-
part south further to recuperate, and
you may believe my departure was re-
luctant.
"In the interval my housekeeper
was slightly indisposed with what
eventually developed into typhoid, and
she must have felt some slight amaze
at my assiduous attentions and affa-
billy. | was prodigal with my floral
donations.
"Well, as | say, | went south, and
had been gone nearly a month when |
was called home by a telegram, say
ing that my housekeeper had con-
tracted typhoid and had died. AS she
seemed to have no one to make the
necessary arrangements, would I come
at once and attend to things myself ?"
Deming paused and selected fresh
cigar with punctilious care.
81 arrived home," he resumed, "and
found that the old doctor had done
everything, and that the funeral was
that night. l disliked death as being
morbid, and therefore an undesirable
factor in my thoroughly well-balance6
makeup.
However, l decided to go in anC
pay my last respects to one who haC
served me well. She looked quiet anC
quite at peace. Around her throat was
slender gold chain with a medallion
attached. Careless hands had laid il
wrong side up, and 1 bent over hel
and turned it over.
"My picture was in it, and under
meath the name and the date in he
handwriting.
"That's all, boys. All night l sa
gazing at her, this woman who ha,
lived in my house for seven years, OF
whom / had bestowed some brie
snatches of conversation or an oc
casional appreciative gift; this WON
an l loved too late, whom l Nigh