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Show lJBWWa A Question of Understanding By Grace G. Bostwick I "It Isn't aa though sho had cared," Atherton said, in a tlrod volco, turning turn-ing the letters and telegrams over listlessly. "It Isnt as. though she had cared," he repeated, dully, opening and closing the small drawers, one by ono. Ho was searching for a photograph photo-graph that she had kept on her desk a likeness taken In her early girlhood, girl-hood, long boforo he had met her. As ho felt clumsily about among tho papors a letter fell out. Ho started start-ed to roplaco It, but caught sight of his own name in tho familiar writing and paused. Ho opened it with trembling trem-bling Angers. "I did tho host I could," he said, slowly to himself. "I couldn't help not caring. I thought I could at first. I thought It would come with timo. God I how hard it has been, how bitter hard I" Ho passed his thin, nervous hand wearily across his colorless col-orless faco. "At least, sho never know, nover suspected, nor cared, either way," ho said, bitterly. "Sho was as Indifferent as as I was." "I wondor If sho knows now," ho breathed. "I wonder If sho knows and understands. Sho nevor seomod to understand anything. I used to wondor how anyono could feel so lit-tlo lit-tlo nnd live. I tried onco to toll her how I felt nnd she laughed. Said I needed something to tone mo up. Perhaps sho was right. Perhaps I am a morbid chap. "If sho had cared," ho began again, "I would havo tried to bo different. I should havo learned to got hold of her interest In some way, but that dead calm of hers! I used to think it would drivo me crazy. She was tho right sort, too or semed to be. With hor possibilities sho might have dovolopod Into a wondorful woman undor tho right conditions. Sho Is wondorful sho was," ho corrected himself, shuddering at tho correction. "I admired her moro than any other woman I over met. Poor Helen!" ho sighed as ho pored over the letter In the falling light Ho sat up, startled. Hurried to the window, reading eagerly with a look of intense Interest on his rather apathotlc faco a look such as Helen Atherton had novor roused In all her sadly Inconsoquont llfo with him. "Dear," ho read, "I couldn't hope ever to make you understand how I lovo you. You havo Just left me cold, unloving, careless, as you always aro and I (poor foolish, loving thing) put my starved arms about your chair and laid my lips passlonatoly against tho spot where your dear head has lain. I know it Is utterly unreciprocated, unrecipro-cated, that I shall nevor bo moro to you than I am now, nnd though it brenks my heart with its desolation, Its utter dospnir, yet I bow to It Dearest, no man was over loved moro dcoply, moro tendorly, than you aro. O, tho sadnoss, tho heartbreak of It all! "You thought at first you cared. If you had boon sure, then ah, If you hod only known then and told mo. Now It Is too Into. I am wrapped In a novor-endlng regret thnt will bo my portion to tho end of timo. I can't case tho hurt of loving unloved. "I want you to know If you aro loft nnd you will bo thnt I havo alwayB carod. I used to hopo for tho day whon I should so your oyes flood with glndnoss at my coming. I havo learned to welcomo oven tho weariness weari-ness of spirit thoy express If only I may feol you noar mo. "Dear, I know how It Is with you. I know that tho bonds havo becomo bo irksomo thnt they have worn Into your vory soul. I boo tho dlstnsto, tho dislike almost loathing that possesses pos-sesses you nt times. I seo It all, yot I am powerless to relcaso you. I enn only lildo It all securely away undor tho slow smllo, tho smllo that you call my ovory-dny face. "If you had cared, John, wo should havo Ueon vory happy. I lovo your work, your Interests, but I havo not dnrod volco It for fear O that look! that cruelly Indifferent, hard, careless look! It burns Into mo ns I wrlto and I wrltho under tho torturo of It" IIo s nt with his head on his arms for hours. Onco ho crlod out in ngony: "My Ood, If I had known! If I had known!" At last ho climbed tho heavy, dark Btnlrwny to tho room abovo to faco his doad. Ho turned back tlio whtto covorlld with hands strangely steady aftor his long vigil. Hor faco was oddly girlish as It wtis in tho little photo. Ho felt a vast tondornoBS welling up within him as ho looked. A rush of fooling that flooded him with longing, longing for hav smllo, for her clenr-oyod look, for tho spirit of her, brave and Indomitable Indomita-ble as It had over been. At last ho know tho truth. Ho could boo tho soul hack of tho sllonco back of hor apathetic gontlonoss of domeanor that had shamed his churlish outbreaks of Irritability. Oh, to toll hor! to lot her know how ho admired hor self-control, self-control, her wondorful soldier hoart that could forco hor to smllo calmly, though hor life's blood was oozing away, drop by drop. Oh, to toll her that ho might havo cared; that sho was his heart's own aftor all, though ho had not known it ho had not known hor. "If I could toll hor Just onco and seo her smllo as sho used to smllo boforo." Ho burled his faco In tho clothes at her Bltlo at tho rocolloctlon, Ho remoroborcd suddenly that alio had been poBes?d cl a horror of burial with llfo sUll exlstant He started and looked again, piorclngly, Into her still faco. It was not mar-ble-llko as tho faces ho had seen In death. A sudden hopo clutched at his heart. "Helen," he cried, "come back! You aro mine, child; I havo always loved you always. I didn't know. O child, open your oyso to me!" Ills face went gray with the effort of his life. Ho was straining, striving against death, tho conqueror himself. He prayed by all ho held sacred. By his mother's memory. By his belief In love, by tho prayers of tho long-gone long-gone dead, and holding her two cold hands In his own, he chafed and warmed them unwearledly, repeatedly, repeated-ly, calling to her, pleading with her, begging her to como back. Tho passionate warmth of his ap-' peal softened tho cold stillness of her fingers. They seemed to him to bo growing pliant, human. Ho put a terrible ter-rible effort Into his . plea, shaking from head to foot with the strangest passion mortal over experienced. Ho would win her back from death. Ho would seo her eyes unclose or ho would dlo In tho effort Tho perspiration perspira-tion wast pouring off his brow whoro tho veins wero cruelly knotted. His oyes burned Ilko tho&o of some wild animal seen In tho darkness at dead of night "Helen," ho called for tho last time, "Holon child, it la I open your oyes to mo!" It was tho Impassioned appeal ap-peal of soul to soul. Than slowly, wearily, unwillingly, as of somo child waking from a sleep of deep exhaustion, tho cold, whlto lids lifted and tho familiar eyes looked Into his own, though faintly as from a long distance Tho shadow of a smllo parted tho gray lips tho lips of death. Overcomo by tho wonder of the miracle, ho staggered back, but compelled himself, by a supromo effort ef-fort of will, to hold consciousness a moment longer. "You aro going to live!" he cried, loudly. "You aro going to live for mo!" Ho felt her cold, cold faco against his own hot check. Ho hoard her sigh a long sigh of rapture that was almost a sob then blackness. In the littlo study below the sickroom sick-room tho room of resurrection a few hours later Atherton again fumbled fum-bled about his wlfo's desk for tho littlo lit-tlo photo. Again his awkward hands tumbled the contents of the drawers In reckless confusion, but at last thoy closed on tho treasured picture. Tears of Joy, tho great tears that rise out of tho deopest feeling of a strong mnn's heart, fell thickly, unrestrainedly, unrestrained-ly, on tho chlld-llko faco of tho woman wom-an who hnd boon his wlfo for four long, mlsornblo years. (Copyright, 1M6, by Dally Btory Pub. Co.) |