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'. i m 1 1 ii n vpnnpivjQtta(ppjpppppp CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE SECRET GRIEF RAVAGES THE HEART. One of the most disheartening ex periences in life is to grieve alone, to know that your sorow must be se cret, to know that according to the world's standards you have no right to grieve. Little book, I wonder if there are many women in the world who have had to suffer and keep silent as I have. Mollie and Eliene came in to see me today on their way back from the funeral of Malcolm Stuart. Their countenances were swollen and stained with tears. They could weep openly for their friend. I met them with tearless eyes and a white face. 'Is Dick worse?" asked Mollie quickly. "No, I think not, but he is certain ly no better." "Poor Margie," said Eliene. "But,, dear, you may be glad you had an excuse for staying away from Mal colm's funeral. It was terrible." I must have shown a questioning expression, little book, for she con tinued, "Margie, it was all so, cola and formal. Think of it, dear, with the exception of Dr. Virot, who fol lowed the casket out of the church alone, there was not one person there nearer and dearer than Harry and I and Chad and Mollie to come ifter." "It was inexpressibly sad to me," said Mollie, "to think a man with all Malcolm's brain, all his money, all his lovableness, should not have had lad some one some woman, I mean whom he loved and who loved him, v.o follow to his last resting place." I didn't say anything I could not have spoken if death had been te penalty for silence. And then all at once it came to me that Malcolm Stuart had never once in all our ac quaintance told me he loved me. Nei ther had I told him I loved him. "You love me, Margie," he said, and I had answered, "I don't know." He started out to his death that day without knowing for sure whether I loved him or not, if the saying so in words would have made him sure. - x "I wish I had told him I loved him and had promised to go with him," I said to myself. "I wish he had had that happiness, before he died. "Would you, have gone, did you love him?" my brain asked,my heart Before my heart could answer Mollie spoke. "Do you know, Margie, I have always felt Malcolm Stuart was genuinely in love with you, and had not Dick been my brother I would have toldou so, for I could see how utterly unconscious you were of his regard. I cannot see why you did not fall in love with him. I know if I were not so insanely in love with Chad I would have done so in a minute." "But, Mollie," spoke up jEliene, "Malcolm never paid Margie any more attention than he did the rest of us." "Perhaps not," answered Mollie, "but somehow Malcolm's attentions to Margie always seemed to me to be intentions." I thought of all the attentions and intentions that were buried in my heart. I choked up with emotion, little booK. I wished I had died while I was lying like a log all that long, dreary time. Why had Malcolm Stuart sent Dr. Virot to make me well? Why had he saved me from dying when I wanted to die if he were to go out of my life like this? I started up in desperation I was one the point of telling Mollie and Eliene all. "I can't stand it! I can't stand it!" I exclaimed, when the nurse came out of the room where Dick was ly ing. "Mr. Waverly is awake, Mrs. Wa verly," she said. "Is he conscious?" I asked. , 5jv 'aaAJtSStftsfe' jjjggggiggj