Picture-Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY 23 l>ut topics of mutual interest. Sudlly the old man rose, reloaded his e, and, after lighting it, left the room, ing: 'I'm goin' to take a turn around the jse, and finish my pipe." -iardly had Hale quitted the room, :ore Ned plunged into the subject rat which he had called. It was not custom to beat about the bush, or nee words. In his love-making he ,s the same outspoken type that he s about the mill. 'Milly," said he, gathering her in his ns, "I love you, and I want you to be ' wife." For a moment she gazed into his eyes, Here she read the great love that was ![ this man's heart. "Xo, no, Ned! It can't be," she finally 'olied, endeavoring to push him from t. "I like you, Ned. as a friend, but :ere can never be anything else." if' Ah, but, girl, if you knew how much jlove you; if you knew how happy I raid be as your husband, you would |t say no. I love you, dear, better an life itself. Without you, life will M nothing." "'Ned, can't you understand? Don't j u see that I care a great deal for you, t not that way. Can't you underind, it can never be?" she sobbed. M' Milly, dear, I'll make you love me." "No, Ned, love is born, not made, and ican never love you enough to marry >u." "Milly," he cried, a jealous suspicion .eeping through him, "is there any one =e?" "Yes," she whispered. His arms dropped from about her. e stepped back, as though struck by whip. This woman whom he loved love everything else in the world, did )t love him. For a moment he saw d. Then his better nature asserted self, and once again he was the greatparted, magnanimous man, willing to jse his own happiness in the happiness at he felt was to be for the girl he ved. "If you can't give me your heart, let e retain your friendship. If you ever ant a friend, if you are ever in trouble, t me know, and I will willingly lay Dwn my life for you." The pledge of this big-hearted, roJst, red-blooded man went straight to ae heart of the beautiful girl, and two reat tears glistened for a moment in er eyes. "Ned," she said, shyly slipping her small hand into his big, bearlike paw, "I thank you. If I ever need a friend, I'll call on you." Tenderly he raised the little hand to his lips, and the compact which was to mean much to both was sealed. Before her flashed a mental visualization of debonair Frank Dawson. Sev There, one evening, the mill owner's son, taking her face in both his hands, had asked: "Do you love me, Milly?" He had read the answer in her eyes, and from that hour their secret betrothal had begun. The young heir to the Dawson millions suddenly developed an intense interest in the business, which he had before spurned. The other girls employed The mill-owner's son, taking her face in both his hands, asked: "Do you love me, Milly?" eral weeks before, while going through the mill, he had been impressed by the wonderful beauty of this employee of his father, and through the aid of the foreman had succeeded in securing an introduction. That night, he had met and accompanied Milly to her home. In that brief walk from the paper mill to the cottage of Andrew Hale the germ of love had been planted. Then had followed clandestine meetings, she stealing from the house at night to keep the appointment at their trysting place — a rustic bench down by the lake shore. in the room in which Milly worked noted the marked attentions paid by young Dawson, and they, with the natural intuition of women, noted how the eyes of their coworker lighted whenever Dawson drew near. Gossip was rife among the women employees of the mill, but no word reached either Ned Lane or Andrew Hale. As Ned left the little cottage, his heart crushed down by the burden of his sorrow, Milly quickly drew a letter from the bosom of her dress.