Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 160, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 July 1916 — A UTTER FROM ROME [ARTICLE]

A UTTER FROM ROME

By SUSAN E. CLAGETT.

He had come across the continent to see her and as he stood in her sitting room he was fully alive to its homely comfort. Manlike, he did not notice its suggestion of shabbiness. He had been in the country a week and had, as yet, found no opportunity for the question he had comejp ask. As he waited for her he wondered why. But he was determined to know tonight where he stood. Was it possible she had changed? He squared his Bhoulders and threw back his head. No. That was out of the question. Their correspondence had faltered occasionally, but had always been resumed, even after the two or three amazing letters he had received from her several years before. He put hisrdiand in his pocket and drew out a wdl-worn letter and was reading it as she came into the room. "That was the first,” he said. “I received it in Athens. The others reached me while I was in Cairo. There were four in all, and they about spoiled my trip. They were remarkable letters, EleanOr, remarkable from the fact that they were written by so cold a woman as you. I have read them every day and every day have wondered at the imbecile reply I sent you from Rome. “Whatever the reason, I have long regretted that letter, and I hope you will believe me when I say it is my dearest hope that you will consent to be my wife.” - She did not answer at once and her reply was not direct when it came. “I would like to tell you a story, Judge Norton,” she said. “It commenced a good many years ago, this story of a man and a woman ran its way through friendship and ended, as is usual in such cases, with one of them becoming somewhat more than a friend. The man, it was. When he was serious, she laughed. Not in ridicule, but because, although she cared in a way, it was not enough to make marriage desirable. The man went away, but their correspondence did not take the place of his companionship and each time he returned she felt she had grown a little nearer to him, but could not bring herself to let him see what she knew he wished to know, although he said little.

“The odd part of the story, your honor, is, the young woman never thought the man might change. At first she was sorry this was so, but as her home life, always difficult, now became intolerable, she turned to him, never doubting an immediate response. Made desperate by conditions she could not bear, she asked him to come to her. “It was a heart letter, but it brought no reply. Many weeks later, she received two or three lines. They told her he was on his way east. “She watched for»Jiim, but the days passed without further word. Then a line came to her fr;om his old home. He had passed her by, the first time in all the years of their Yriencjship, and she was in trouble. Yel so dulled was she by wretchedness that even then she did not doubt him. “Their last evening together was a nightmare for her to remember. Her coldness had chilled him, else he would have spoken. Of this she was -sure.- She must tell him plainly she cared. Then she committed the folly of her life. She wrote to him. Not one letter, but several. They were all love letters. That much she knows. What she said, she has mercifully forgotten. Then one day came a letter from Rome. “She laughed when she read it. ‘What has come over the man?’ she asked herself. When realization came to her she was numbed, frozen by what she had done. The thought that she had told him she cared bit so deeply into her pride there had to be a reaction.

“As a judge, you, yourself, have been called upon to decide nice questions, questions where the distinctions are subtle. Was the woman in the wrong? She thinks not. But she can glimpse the man’£| amazement as he read those letters; his feelings, that even if his actions were confirmatory until those last days, she had no right to attach importance to them until he had said the words that would support them. “He has come back and now asks in plain words what he asked many Cyears ago when they were young together—what’ he asked by implication year after year. She is no longer young. She is alone. Her support comes from her own efforts and sometimes she grows very tired. His offer means wealth, leisure. Her love for him is dead. But she feels warm friendliness. Will friendlmess and companionship take the place of that other feeling now that she is past youth? Does he really care, or is his desire for her merely a pang of conscience that he should have so hurt her?" Long before she had finished Judge Norton had left his place before the fire and was walking slowly back and forth the length of the room. As her voice ceased he stepped before her. “I show up pretty badly, Eleanor. I did not know how badly, but I will be thankful for your friendship and companionship If you will give them to me. I have been a very lonely man since I sent you that letter from Rome. Will you go back there with me?" i * r Yes, whenever you wish.” (Copyright, 1916, by the McClure New»P«* par Syndicate.) *