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Show '. 1! A Question of Understanding t By Grace G. Bostwick "It Isn't as though sho had cared," Atherton said, in a tired voice, turning turn-ing tho letters aid telegrams over listlessly. "It isn't as though sho had cared," ho repeated, dully, opening and closing tho small drawers, ono by one. Ho was searching for a photograph photo-graph that sho had kept on her desk a likeness taken In hor enrly girlhood, girl-hood, long before ho had met her. As ho folt clumsily about umong tho papers u letter fell out He stnrt-d stnrt-d to replace It, but caught Bight of IiIb own name In tho familiar writing and puused. Ho opened it with trembling trem-bling fingers. "I did tho best I could," ho said, slowly to himself. "I couldn't help not caring. 1 thought I could at first. I thought It would conio with time. Ood! how hard It has been, how bitter hard!" Ho passed his thin, nervous hund wearily ncrosB IiIh col-orlcBs col-orlcBs fnce. "At least, sho novor know, never suspected, nor cared, either way," ho snld, bitterly. "Sho was as Indifferent as as I was." "I wonder If sho knows now," ho breathed. "I wonder if sho known-anil known-anil understands. Sho novor seemed to undcrBtnnd anything. I used to wonder how nnyono could fool so lit-tlo lit-tlo nnd llvo. I tried onco to toll hor how I felt nnd sho laughed. Said I needed something to tono mo up. Perhaps sho was right. Porhaps I am n morbid chop. "If Bho hnd cared," ho began again, "I would havo tried to bo different I should hnve learned to get hold of her Interest In Bomo way, but that deod calm of bcrBl I used to think It would drlvo mo crazy. Sho won tho right sort, ton or somed to bo. With hor ponslbllltlcs bIio might hnvo developed Into a wondorful woman under tho right conditions. Sho Is wondorful Bho wns," ho corrected himself, Bhuddcring at tho correction. "I ndmlrcd her moro tbnn any other woman I over mut. Poor Helen!" bo Blghcd ns bo pored over tho letter In tho falling light. Ho Bnt up, startled. Hurried to tho window, reading Eagerly with n look nf Intnnso IntoreBt on his rnther apathetic fnco a look such as Helen Atherton had novor roused In nil hor sadly Inconnequont llfo with him. "Dear," ho rend, "I couldn't hopo over to mnko you understand how I lovo you. You hnvo Just left mo-cold, mo-cold, unloving, cnreloss. as you always nro nnd I (poor foolish, loving thing) put my Btnrvcd arms nbout your chair and laid my lips Jasslonntcly against tho spot whoro iur denr head has lain. 1 know It Is utterly unreciprocated, unrecipro-cated, that I shall never bo moro to you tbnn I nm now, nnd though It breaks my heart with Its desolation, Its utter dospnlr, jot I bow to It Dearest, no man was over loved moro dcoply, moro tenderly, thnn you nro. O. tho Badness, tho heartbreak of It nil! ion tluniglit nt first you cared. If you had been Biirp, then nh, If you had only known then nnd told mo. Now It Ib too lato. I nm wrnppod In n noverondlng regret that will bo my portion to tbo end of tlmo. I enn't ensn tho hurt of loving unloved. "I want you to know If you nro loft and you will bo that I lmvo always cared. I imcd to hopo for tho day when I should so your uyes flood with gladness at my coming. I lmvo learned to welcome even tho wenrt-iipss wenrt-iipss of spirit thoy express If only I limy feel you near mo. "Dear, I know bow It ls with you. I know thnt tho bonds lmvo bocomo bo Irksomo thnt they havo worn Into your vttry soul, I Beo tho distaste, tho dlsllko nlmost loathing thnt pob-BeBses pob-BeBses you nt times, I see It all, yot I nm KwerIcss to rolenso you, I can only hide It all securely nway undor tho alow Binllo, tho Binllo that you cull my overy-day foco. "If you had cared, John, wo should have boon very hnppy I lovo your work, your IntorestB, but I havo not dnred volco It for fear O that look! that cruelly Indifferent, hard, careless look! It burns Into mo as I wrlto and I wiltho undor tho torturo of It." Ho snt with his head on his arms for hours. Onco ho cried out In agony: "My Ood, If I had known! If 1 had known!" At last ho climbed tho heavy, dark Btalrway to tho room nbovo to face his doad. Ho turned back tho white coverlid with hands strangely steady after IiIh long vigil. Hor face was oddly girlish as It wns In tho little photo. Ho folt n vast tendornesu welling up within him ns ho looked. A rush of feeling that flooded him with longing, longing for hv Binllo. for her rlenr-oyod look, for tho spirit of her, bravo aud ludomlta-bio ludomlta-bio ns it had ever been. At last ho know tho truth. Ho could eo tho soul back of tho silence back of her apathetic gontieness of demeanor that had shamed his churlish outbreaks of Irritability. Oh, to tell her! to lot her know how ho admired hor self-control, self-control, her wondorful soldier heart that could force her to Binllo calmly, though her llfo's 'blood was oozing away, drop by drop. Oh, to tell her that ho might have cared; that Bho was his heart's own after all, though ho hnd not knows It ho hnd not known hor. "If I could toll hor Just once and bco her smllo as she used to smile boforo," Ho buriftd bis fnco In the clothes nt her sldo at the recollection. Ho remnmbored suddenly that alio had been poBBehtrd cl a horror of 4 burial with life still exlstunt. Ho started and looked again, piercingly, Into her still fnce. It was not marble-like us the fnccB ho had seen In death. A sudden hopo clutched nt his heart. "Helen,"' he cried, "conio back! You oro mine, child; 1 havo always loved you always. I didn't know. O child, open jour eyso to mo!" Ills fnco went grny with tho effort of his life. Ho was straining, striving ngnliiBt dentil, tho conqueror hlmBolf. Ho prayed by ull ho held sacred. Ily his mother's memory, ly his bollof In lovo, by thu prnyers of tho long-gone long-gone dead, nnd holding hor two cold hnnds in his own, ho chafed and warmed them unwenrlcdly, repeatedly, repeated-ly, calling to her, plendlng with her, begging her to como back. Tho pasBlonato warmth of his appeal ap-peal softened the cold stlllncsH of hor fingers. Thoy Bcemcd to him to bo growing pliant, human. Ho put a tor-rlble tor-rlble effort Into his plcn, shaking from head to foot with tho strangest passion mortal over experienced. Ho would win hor bnck from death. Ho would Bee hor eyes uncloso or ho would dlo In tho effort Tho perspiration perspira-tion wns pouring off his brow whoro tho veins wero crucJly knotted. Ills eyes burnod llko thoso of somo wild animal seen In tho darkness nt doad of night "Helen." ho called for tho last time, "Helen child, It is I open your eyes to mo!" It was tho Impassioned appeal ap-peal of soul to soul. Than nlowly, wearily, unwillingly, as of some child waking from n Bleep of deep exhaustion, tho cold, whlto lids lifted nnd tbo famlllnr eyes looked Into his own, though fulntly na from n long distance. Tho shadow of a Binllo parted tho grny lips tho lips of death. Overcomo by tho wondor of tho miracle, ho staggered back, but compelled himself, by n supremo effort ef-fort of will, to hold consciousness a moment longer. "You nro going to live!" ho cried, loudly. "You nro going to llvo for mo!" Ho folt lior cold, cold fnco J agulnst his own hot cheek. Ho heard I her sigh a long sigh of rnpturo thntl was almost n sob then blackness. I I In tho llttlo study below tho slck-J room tho room of resurrection afl fow hours Intor Athorton ncaln fumM bled nbout his wlfo's desk tho lit! tie photo. Again Ids awkward hands tumbled tho contents of tho drawers J In rockloss confusion, but at last tMf"j closed on tho trenmired picture 1 Tears of Joy, tho great tears that rise J out of tho deepest feeling of n strong! man's heart, fell thickly, unrcstrnluod M ly, on tho chtldllko fnco nf tho woml nn who hnd been his wlfo for foutl long, miserable years. (Copyright, 1!K, by Dally Story Tub. Co.) 1 |