Okolona messenger. (Okolona, Miss.) 1900-current, 1920-01-22

to him, and her head dropping little,
until he had finished.
The sheets of paper were covered
with Eugenes handwriting.
George Anderson will bring you
this, dear. Isabel. He is waiting while
l write. He and have talked things
over, and before he gives this to you
he will tell you what has happened. /
ought to have known it was coming,
because l have understood for quite
long time that young George was get
ting to dislike me more and more.
Somehow, I've never been able to get
his friendship; he's always had latent
distrust of me-Or something like dis
trust-and perhaps that's made me
sometimes a little awkward and diff
dent with him. | think it may be he
felt from the first that 1 cared a great
deal about you, and he naturally re-
scented it. / think perhaps he felt this
even during all the time when l was
so careful-at least / thought was
not to show, even to you, how i'm
luCuSSIy L u1u SdlS' II . pClLCNIAJ SOAn-
prehensible to me, also, that at his age
one gets excited about gossip. Dear
Isabel, what I'm trying to get at, in my
confused way, is that you and | don't
care about this nonsensical gossip, our
selves, at all. Yesterday thought the
time had come when l could ask you
to marry me, and you were dear
enough to me to tell me sometime it
night come to that Well, you and i,
left to ourselves, and knowing wha1
we have been and what we are, we'd
pay as much attention to talk as we
would to any other kind of old CATS
mewing! We'd not be very apt to let
such things keep US from the plenty Of
life we have left to us for making up
to ourselves from old unhappiness and
mistakes. But now we're faced with
not the SANDER and not our own fear
of it, because we haven't any, but
someone else's fear of it-yOur sons.
And, oh, dearest woman in the world,
know what your son is to you, and it
frightens me! Let me explain a little:
don't think he'll change-at twenty
one or twenty-five so many things APP
pear solid and permanent and terrible
which forty sees are nothing but dis
appearing miasma. Forty can't tell
twenty about this; that's the pity Of
it Twenty can find out only by get
ffour tn hn fnrtu And or yyo tn
this, dear: VIII you live your own life
your way, or Georges way? I'm going
a little further, because it would be
fatal not to be wholly frank now.
George will act toward you only as
your long worship Of him, your sac
rifices-all the unseen little ones every
day since he was bOrn-Will make him
act. Dear it breaks my heart for you,
but what you have to oppose now is
the history of your own selfless and
perfect motherhood. l remember say
ing once that what you wOrshiped in
your son was the angel you saw in him
and 1 still believe that is true Of
every mother. But in a mothers wOr-
snip H4IG lluy HOL DEC lAldL lllC Will III
her son should not always be offered in
cense along with the angel. | grow sick
with fear for you-for both you and
me-when think how the will against
us two has grown strong through the
love you have given the angel-and
how long your own sweet will has
served that other. Are you strong
enough, Isabel? Can you make the
fight? I promise you that if you will
take heart for it, YOU will find so quick
ly that it has all amounted to nothing.
You shall have happiness, and, in q
little while, only happiness. You need
only to write me a llne-I can't come
to your house-and tell me where you
will meet me. We will come back in
a month, and the angel in your son
will bring him to you; l promise It.
What is good in him will grow so fine,
once you have beaten the turbulent
will-but it must be beaten!
"Your brother, that good friend, Is
whiting with Such DatieDce; | should