Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1932-05-27
TWELFTH INSTALMENT

k>A@"HS S4Aok o11S SllOnl0
think anything Of me, but l did not
love her, Diana, and we were just
friends until I got an appoint
ment abroad. When / told her about
it she it was the first time any
thing really definite was spoken be-
tween us. Perhaps l wasn't very brave,
or perhaps 1 didn't really care for her
sufficiently we'll, but tried to show
her how impossible it was-that l
could not -. There is no need to tell
you every detail, and God knows l
am not blaming her any more than l
blame myself, but without my knowl-
edge she told her husband that she
cared for me, and she asked him to
divorce her He refused. l have
often wondered why, seeing how he
had always neglected her -. Then,
after a short time, she left him. Diana
If you knew how hard it is for me
to tell you this"
He broke off agitatedly, but Diana
did not speak, and after a moment he
went On again:
"In the end in the end =. l
agreed to take her away. We thought
it would force her husband to divorce
her She was so different in those
days, gay and reckless, never counting
the cost of anything-only living for
the moment. Then-the night
before we were to have gone she was
nearly killed in a motto accident. She
was driving her own ear, and she was
alone She was unconscious for
days, and when she recovered -. she
was as she is now-like a child. She
recognized me, as she still recognizes
me, but only as an affectionate child
might, and that is all. The rest, ev-
erything that has happened in her life,
is gone from her.
II paid a visit t see her husband
she had nobody else who cared or who
could have looked after her-and
remember that he laughed in my face
He was a much older man than l,
and he said to me, We'll, you've begun
to pay already, Rathbone, and you II
o. paying for che rest of your life
-. 1t seems that he was right l
brought her down here to my house,
and Mrs. Farmer came to look after
her. Two years later her husband died
and l married her, Diana. You
see, I'd always promised her that if she
was ever free 1 would. l gave my
word, and l felt that l must keep it.
There was always a thought at the
back of my mind that perhaps some
day she might get better-and know!
I didn't tell anybody-It wasn't any
body else's business, so she's still al
ways Miss Rosalie' to Mrs. Farmer
and Hobson-and to the rest of the
household. But she is my wife, Diana,
though I-we-we've never lived to-
gether as man and wife.
That's all. Perhaps l was stu
pidly quixotic, but l was-fond of her,
and besides l had given my word.
She's like a gentle affectionate child
always happy-asking nothing except
that people are kind to her. She made
very little difference to my life one
way or the other till-mll I met you,
and then l realized what I had done.
-. Even then l thought it only meant
that l should be the one to go one
suffering. You seemed so much young
er than l feel never imagined you
might-might grow to care for me,
and when l realized that perhaps
quite unconsciously-you had, l
tried my best-a poor best, l can see
now-to keep you from realizing the
truth. l don't think you will ever
know what it meant to me -. how |
-. when Nero hurt you, and after
wards, when you when you asked
me to tell you not to go away with
Waterman. l could have borne it for
myself, but to know you were I'M
happy-perplexed -. that you didn't
understand why I should seem so 80.
unkind 80"
CHAPTER XVIII
He stopped speaking, and Diana
said family:
"You mean that she-Rosalle
Like sweet bells jangled-out of
tune" Rathbone quoted grimly.
Diana closed her eyes.
There was a little silence; then she
said again:
"Perhaps-some day-when we're
both quite old shall wonder -. if
you have forgotten me. Do you think
you will, Donald7"
II shall never cease to think of you
and love you"
But you'll send me away from you
. all the same. | know that's what