Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

THE FLOWERS COLLECTION VOLUME XLIV— NUMBER THIRTY*ONE. Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending October 13, 1906. 50c PER YEAR—SINGLE COPY 5c. 9-.-*■*»■*»m . » . m ^ a~a:-a—a-a-~a—a~-a.-a—a*9-a—a-+ a.a:a-‘a—m:-a*a-.-a~a:-a—a~-a~.a-~ a—a:-a-~»:-a*-a—a.a—a:a—a-a*a-a—a<-a—a~*»a-.a ■•■m-~a-a-a.a~a*-a-a*a--a~-a~a- DOUBLE TROUBLE: A. Tale o/ Dual Identity (EL U/?e Wierd Occult * -a *a*-a—a-~a—a—a—a:-a—a—a—a— a—a—a—a.~a—a~a~a—a—a-~a—a.'a-~ a—a—a—a—a.-a—a—a—a—a^a—a—a— o—a ••#■•• •••■••■ ■ a—a-o-t Copyright, 1000, by Bobbs-Merrill Co. By HERBERT QUICK. THE FIRST BAT’i % s*.U ' fop DEFEAT. J G g From Camelot to Cann<_ ' The way bright pavilions. In arm? and armor all unma To Guinevere rode Lancelot to Arthur his reward. Dotin from her window look’t the mad To see her bridegroom, half afraid— In him raw kingliness arrayed. And summoned by the herald Love to yield, her woman’s heart obeyed. From Camellnrd to Camelot 'Rode Guinevere and Lancelot— Ye bright pavilions, babble not! The king she took, she Keeps for king, in spite of shame, in spite of blot! —From Cameliard to Camelot. T is a disagreeable ruty tone, however which you and I, madam, discharge with a conscientiousness which the unthinking are sometimes unable to dis tinguish from zeal! to criticize one’s friends. The task is doubly hard when the animadversion is com mitted to paper, with a more or less definite idea of ultimate puolieatlon. I trust, beloved, that we may call Air. Florlan Amidon a friend. He Is an honest fellow as the world goes, in spite of the testimony of Simeon Woolaver regarding the steers; and he wishes to do the right thing. In a mat ter of business, now, or on any question of dims, plates or lenses, we should find him full of decision, just and prompt In action. But /and the disagreeable duty of censure comes in here) there he stands like a Bioughion-bottlo In a most abject state of woe, because, forsooth, he pos sesses th« lore of tnat budding Juno over there by the grate, and knows noi what to do with it! What If he doesn't feel as if he had tile slightest personal acquaintance with her? What If the image of another, and the tnouglit ? But look with me, for a moment, at the situation. There she sits, so attentive to her book <is it the Rubaiyat? Yes!) that his entrance has not attracted her notice— not at all! One shapely patent-leather is stretched out to the fender, and the creamy silk of the gow n happens to be drawn back so low as to show the slen der ankle, and a glimpse of black above the leather. The desire for exactness alone compels a reference to the fact that the boundary lines of this silhouet ted black area diverge perceptibly as they recede from the shoe. It is only a detail, but even Florian notices it, ami thinks about it afterward. Her face is turned toward the shadows up there by the window, her eyes looking at spaee, as if in quest of Irani and his Rose, or Jamshyd and his Sev’nring’d Cup, or the solution of the Master-anot of Human Fate. The unconscious pose showing the incurved spine, and the arms and shoulders glimpsing through falls of lace at sleeve and corsage, would make the fortune of the photographer-in-or- dinary to a professional beauty. An<I yet that man Amidon stands there like a graven image, and fears to rush in where an angel has folded her wings for him and rests! He knows that he is expected to claim some of the privileges of the long-absent lover. He has some information as to their nature. His eyes ought to apprise him (as they do us, my boy!) of their preclouaness. He is not without knowl edge concerning past conduct of that type which, beginning in hard-won privileges, ripens into priceless duties, not to discharge which is insult all the more bitter because it is not to be men tioned. It is not to be denied that the tableau appeals to him; and because an other woman has lately touched him in a similar way, he stands there and con demns himself for that! There is small excuse for him, I admit, sir. Her first ioken of his presence should nave been a kiss on the snowy shoulder. You sug gest the hair? Well, the hair, then, though for my part, I have always felt—- But never mind! Had It been you or 1 in liis place— Yes, my dear, coming tedious, the story. Elizabeth rose with a little start of surprise, a little flutter of the bosom, and came forward with extended hands. He took them with a trembling grasp which might well have passed as evi dence of fervor. “All, Eugene,” said she, holding nlm away, "it has seemed an age!” "Yes.” said he truthfully, "an eternity, almost." “Sit down by the fire,” said she, in fhls digression is be- Let ns proceed witli that low voice which means so much. “You are cold.” “I am a little cold,” lie replied. "1 must have remained outside too long.' “Y-e-s?” she returned; and after a long pause: “It doesn’t seem to take long— sometimes. And the wind is in the east. Now. when a bride-elect begins to deal in double meanings of this sort with her fiance, the course or true love is like ly to be entering on a piece of rough road-bed. “How did you find Estelle when you called?” Estelle? Estelle? Estelle? Nothing in Blodgett and Biatherwick's notes about Estelle. “A whole directory or names.” as Judge Blodgett bad said, but no Estelle. The w-orld full of useless people—a billion and a ;ialf of them — and not an Estelle at poor Amldon’s ca.l in this time of need. Hence this long hiatus In the conversation. "Really, Miss—er—a—my dear, I haven't had time to call on any one.’ "It will bo u little hard to explain,” said she after a silence, "to my pros pective bridesmaid ana dearest friend, that you wore so long :n New' York and could not call. It Is not quite like you, Eugene.” Ho was sitting whom- he could see her well, and because site looked Into the fire a good deal, be found himself gaz ing fixedly at her. Her manifold per fections filled him with the same feeling of astonishment experienced by tnat beggar who awoke in the prince’s cham ber, clothed in splendor, and with a royal domain in fee. (Personally, I regard the domain which spread itself ’before Amidon, as im perial.) As she pronounced her general reproot, her eyes turned to his, and ho started guiltily. "No." lie confessed, "It was not the right thing. You must forgive me, won’t you “T h%pe.” said she, smiling, 1 may be able to do more than that: maybe 1 shall be so fortunate as to get you Es telle’s forgiveness.” "Thank you,” he said; and then seek ing for safer ground: "Haven’t you some thing for us to look over—some plans or something?” " Or something!’ ” she repeated with a ripple of laughter. It was the first time lie hod heard this laugh; and Marot’s lines ran through liis mind: "Good God! *twoi*ld make the very streets and ways Through which she passes, burst into a pleasu re! "No spell were wanting from the dead to raise me. But only that sweet laugh wherewith she slays me!” ’* ’Or something,’ ” she repeated, I say; “it might just as well be the pro files of a new pipe-line survey, for all the interest you take in it. I oughtn't to look at them with you; but come, they’re over here on the table.” Somehow, this lady's air required the deferential offer of liis arm; and some how, the deference seemed to please her. So he fel* that the tension was lessened as she turned over the blue-prints. More over, in matters of architecture he felt at home—if he could only steer clear ol any discussion of the grounds. He had no idea of the location of L.iese. Soon their heads were close together over the plans. A dozen times her hair brushed his lips, two or three times his fingers touched the satin skin of her. arms and shoulders, and all the time lie felt himself within the magic atmos phere whicli enwraps so divine a maiden, as odorous breezes clothe the shores of Ceylon. Her breath, the faint sweet perfume in her hair, the soft frou-frou of her skirts, the appealing lowness oi her voice—all these wrought strongly on Florian; and when she leaned ligntly upon him as she reached past mm Rh one of the sheets, lie felt (I record .. to his credit! as If he must take her to his arms, and complete the embrace she had involuntarily half begun. But the feel ing that she was, after all, a strange young girl, and was revealing herself to him altogether under a mistake as to liis Identity, restrained him. Bile did not lean agulnst him any more. There were some little improvements in tlie plans which had occurred to a-,l- zabetli, especially In the arrangement of kitchen, pantry and laundry. "I’ll have the architect come and see you about these,’* said Amidon. “What!” said she. In apparent aston ishment—"from Boston?" “Ah—well,” tie stammered, “I don't know—that Is— 1 — Yes, from Boston! We want these matters as you want them. 1 you know, if It were from Rails or Cal cutta. And I think there should be some provision for prtsm-glass to light up the library. It could be cut lr. right there on that north exposure; don't you think so?” “Oil. yes. and what an Improvement U will be!” she replied. “And may I have all the editions of Browning I want, even if I ■couldn’t explain what Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came means?” “Oil. does that point puzzle you?” ex claimed Florian, greeting the allusion to Prawning as the warhorse welcomes ’he battle. “Then you have never chan -ed i i run across the first edition of Child’s Scottish Ballads.’ You get the story there, of Childe Roland following up the quest for liis sister, shut up by enchant ment in the dark tower, in searching for which his brothers—Cuthbert and Giles, you remember, and the. rest of ‘The Rand’—had been lost. He must blow a certain born before it. In a certain wnv- you know how it goes. Dauntless the slug- horn to my lips I set!’ It’s quite obvious when you know the story, and not a bit of an enigma. The line in Lear shows that the verses must have been com monly sung In Shakespeare's time——” The girl was looking at him with some thing like amazement; but her answer icferred to the matter of his discourse. “Yes," said she. “I o.-n see now how i lie 'Dark Tower' lightens up. I must it-ad it again in the light of this expla nation of yours. Shall we read It to gether, soon?” “Oil, by all means!” said lie. “Only j ivarn you I never tire when I find an> one who will study Browning with me. T tried to read ‘The Ring and the Book’ with a dear friend once, and reading my favorite .part. ‘Giuseppe Caponsacchl.’ ns 1 raised my eyes after that heart- bieaking finale, ‘O. great. Just, good God! Miserable me!’ I saw she was dozing. Since then. I read Browning with his lovers only ” “Yes, you are right In that. Rut. Eu gene, ” slie exclaimed, “you said to me many times that Ills verse was rot. that Xordau ought to have included liim in his gallery of degenerates, that he Is muddy, and that there isn’t a line of poetry In his works so far as you have been able to dig into them. And yon cited 'Childe Roland' as proof of all of this! And you never would listen to any of Browning, even when we almost quarreled about It! Now. if that was be cause Why. it was—!’’ She paused as If afrnM she might say too much. Florian. who had rallied m Ills literary enthusiasm, collapsed into hi;: chronic state of terror. Even In to Impersonal a thing as Browning, the man who does not know what liis bald's are takes every step at his peril. “Oil, that that I said!" lie stammered. “Yes—yes. Well, there are obscurities, you know. Even Mr. Blrrell admits that. But on the whole, don’t you agree with nte?” •Quite.” said site dryly; “if I under stand you.” There was an implie,) donbl as to her understanding of liis position, and the only thing made clear was that the drawbridge was up again. So Florian began talking of the plans. He grew eloquent on ventilators, bath rooms an 1 plumbing. He drew fine and learned dis tinctions between styles. “The colonial,” said lie. “Is not good unless indulged in in great moderation. Now. what I like about this ts the way I'. Iwhich ultra-colonialism Is held in check, and modified in the direction of the Greek ideal. Those columns, sup porting the broad portico, hark back to the Parthenon, don’t they? T like that taste and flavor of the classic.” She listened in much the same wonder ing way in which she had regarded him a: the beginning of Ills outburst on Browning. Was it possible that, after all, this lover of hers, whose antecedents were so little known, but whose five yea -s of successful life in Bellevale had won for him that confidence of liis townsmen la which she had partaken, was, after all, possessed of some of those tastes in art and literature, the absence of which had been the one thing lacking in his character, as it appeared to her? Tt would seem so. And yet, why had he concealed these things from her. who so passionately longed for intellectual com panionship? Somehow, resentment crept into her heart as she looked at him, and there was something in his attitude which was not frank and bold, as she liked to see a man—but this would not do. He was so lovely In his provision for the future, and surely his conversation dis closed that he had those tastes and that knowledge! “I think the moon must be letting me look at Its other side tonight.” said she. •'Have you been saving up the artist o-a-.-a—a -.-a— a»-a ■•■a.-a—a•• you, to show them to me ■ a^a—a—a—a and poet ii now?” . “Oh, no,” said he, “not at all—why, any one knows these little things. Now let’s go through the arrangements of the chambers; shall we?” “Not tonight, if you please. Let us sit b\ tlie fire again. Ir will be a grand house, dear. Sometimes T think, loi grand for Bellevale; and quite often 1 feel, too grand, too elegant—for me.” “Who then,” answered Florian. who saw liis conversational duty, a dead-sure riling, and went for it tnero and then, "who then could have such ;i house, or vlight to have it. if not you?” The girl looked questioningly, patheti cally at him. as if site miss*',; something b.’ the convincing In his words. "To deny that you feel so—felt so about It .when you gave orders for the building, would be foolish," >■ aid she at last. "An ! it was very dear of you to do it. But nice a man. having a little gem which lie thought of .perfect water, placed it In a setting so large and so cunningly wrought that nobody ever saw the lit*l ■ stone, unless it was pointed out to them.” lie saw it,” said Florian, “whenever he wanted to—and no .setting can be too beautiful for a moonstone.” He felt that lie was rallying nobly. Really. he thought, "r am getting 0 ite ardent. And under different cir cumstances, T could be so in the utmost good faith; for 1 know she’s as good an i title as she is queenly and beautiful. But after all, it Is duty, only and ” “In such a house,” she went on, "peo ple may live a little closer than acquaint ances, or not quite so close, as the cast- may be. with their lives diluted by their many possessions.” ■'.s?’ said he expectantly. "Before it comes to that.” she biusl forth, her eyes wide and her bands clasped in her lap, “I want to die! 1 could gather the fagots for tlie fire, and cuddle down by It on a heap of straw 1>\ the roadside, with the man 1 love; ami if I knew he loved me, he might beat me. and I would bear it, and be happj ui liis strength—far happier than in those 1 hambers you spoke of a moment ago. v ith an acquaintance who merely fian- pened to be called a husband! 1 would rather walk the streets than that!” Now, a lovers’ quarrel requires lovers on both sides. Had Amidon really been one, this crisis would have passed natu rally on to protestation, counter-protesta tion. tears, kisses, embraces, reconcilia tion. But all these things take place through tiie interplay of instincts, none O! which was awakened in Florian. So he sat forlorn, and said nothing. I am going to let you jjo 'home, now,” said she, rising. “I gave out tile date of the wedding, as you requested, tlie day afier you went away. If it were not for that, I should ask you to wail a while—until the house is finished—or even longer. As it is, you mustn’t be surprised if I sav something surprising to you soon.” "I I assure you—” began Amidon. "Good night, my—” He had schooled himself for this fare well, and remembering what Madame 1« Claire had told him, had decided on a course of action. The two had walked out into the hall and lie had put on his top coat. Now lie went bravely up u> her and stooped to kiss her. She raised her face to his. and again tlie feeling that this man was only a mere acquaintance passed into her be ing. as she looked into his eyes. She turned her lips away. But Florian. as the feeling of strangeness impressed her, lost it himself In the contemplation, brief but. irresistible, of the upturned lips with their momentary invitation so soon with drawn. The primal man in him awoke. His arm tightened about the lissome waist; the divine form in the creamy silk, on which he had only now almost feared to look, he drew to him so tightly as almost to crush iier; and with one palm he raised the averted face to liis, and made deliberate conquest of tlie lips of vivid red. Once, twice, three times— and then she put her hands against his shoulders and pushed him away. Her face flamed. "Eugene!’ she exclaimed, “how—” "Good night!" he answered, "my dear est, my darling, good night!” And 'lie ran down the street, in such a conflict of emotions that he hardly knew whither he went. XII. ON THE FIRM GROUND OF BUSI NESS. O merry It was in the good greenwood when the goblin and sprite ranged free. When tlie kelpie haunted the shadowed flood, and the dryad dwelt in the tree; But merrier far is the trolley car as it routs the witch from the wold. And the din of the hammer and t'he car tridges’ clamor as they banish the swart kobold! O,. a sovran cure for psychic dizziness Is a breath of tlie air of the world of business! —Idyls of a Sity-Scra'per. n a q a a o her reason It is recorded in the Mr. Amidon ran from presence in such a state last chapter that Miss Waldron’s of agitation tli:n it be hardly knew whither lie went, the reader who wonders why lie was agi tated, I have only to hint that he was wretchedly Inexperienced. An,] as it war. he soon got his bearings and walked briskly toward his hotel; still, however, in a state of mind entirely new to him. Gradually he lessened his gait, absorb ed in mental reconstructions of his pari ing with Elizabeth. The pet lion which, while affectionately licking the hand which caresses it. brings the blood, and at the taste reverts instantly to its nor mal savagery, is acted on by impulses much like those of Amidon. liis thoughts were successions of moving pictures of Die splendid girl whom fie had held in his arms and kissed. He saw her sitting by the fire as lie entered. His mind’s eye dwelt on the image of the strong, full figure and the lovely head and won- dious eyes. He felt her lean against him ns they stood by the table, and liis arms fairly ached 'with the thrill of that pcr>- ing embrace. His lips throbbed still with the half-ravished kisses, and lie stopped with an insane impulse to re turn and repeat tlie tender robbery. Then, wondering at the turbulence of his thoughts, lie walked on. During this pause, ha was dimly con sclous that a person whom he had seen approaching had neared the point of meet ing, and after a moment’s halt, had passed on. As 'he resumed his walk lie heard rapid steps behind him, and was passed by a, man who strongly resembled the passenger whom he. bad just met This figure turned a corner a few rod; in advance of Florian, and almost imme diately reemerged; having turned, ap parently, for the purpose of encounter ing Amidon once more. This time, lie walked up, and halted, facing Amidon. ’’You’ll be at the office in the morning, I suppose, Mr. Brassfleld?" said the man. “At (he office?” said Amidon. "My of fice? Yes.” “Well,” this new acquaintance proceed ed, in tones which indicated a profound sense of personal injury, “you’d better come prepared to fill my place in the establishment as soon as possible.” This statement was followed by a pause of the sort usually adopted for the pur pose of noting the effe-ct of some start ling utterance. Amidon was feeling in his pocket for Elizabetli lirss-found letter, and tiie affairs of the Brassfleld Oil Company had little Interest for him. Yet lie dimly realized that some one was re signing something. “Let me sec," said lie musingly; “what —what do you do?" The man gave a sort of hop. of the kind we have been taught to expect of the stag when the bullet strikes him. “Do?" lie snorted. "What do 1 do? What do I do? Do you mean to— I’!! tell what I do! I get together options for you and send you cipher telegrams about 'em. and don’t get any answers! I attend .stockholders' meetings and got wiiipsawed by minorities because you art dead to tlie world off there in New York, or the Lord knows Where, and don’t fur nish me with proxies! L stay hero and try to protect your interests when you desert ’em. and you send some white- headed old reprobate of a Pinkerton man to shadow me for a. week and try to pry into my work! And when you get home you never show up at the counting room, though you know what a pickle tilings are in; and when I meet yon on the street, l get cut dead: that’s what I do. And I stand it, do I? Ha, ha, ha! Not if J. B. Stevens knows himself, I don't! Good night, Mr. Brassfield. ^ome round in the morning, and I'll show you wliat I do!” After the speaker had rushed away, which he incontinently did following this outburst, Amidon’s minj reverted to Eliz abeth; and not until he had reached his room did his thoughts return to his en counter in tlie street; and then it was only to wonder if this man Stevens was really of any importance, and if a breach with him was a matter of any conse quence. His mind soon drifted off from this, however, and he got out of bed to turn on the lights and read the above-mention ed letter. And us he read it, lie grew ashamed. That embrace, those kisses, now seemed an outrage to him. Was this liis return for the sweet confidences, the revelations of hidden tilings, with which she had 'honored him? “You must forget this," she had written, "only at such times of tenderness as you will sometimes have when you are gone, ’ and: “When you see me again, . . . without a word or look front me, know me, even more than you do, yours.” And after this, he had permitted her allure ment to fly to his brain, and had given a ■•■a-^a-.-a—a-.- a think that beenc■ siie bad lowered her guard, he had struck her t dastard’s blow. His eyes grew soft wiih pity, and they moistened, as he repeated :o himself, "Poor little girl! poor little gir!!” Oh. yes! doubtless it was silly of him; hut please to remember that he was quite as far from being blase as—as we used to be; and that lie was just now booming really in love with Elizabeth. And love is much nearer kin to pity than pity is to love. So lie lay there and pitied Elizabeth. and wondered when the wedding was to be. He must have Clara find this out from Brass- field. And he thought regretfully of Madame le Claire. His reflections tints touched on the two most unhappy wo men in Bp!I“vale. To the hypnotist lie had become so much more than a “case” merely, that a revulsion of feeiin.g was setting in against bringing him here to be turned over to a woman for whom he cared nothing. It was a shame, she thought. Tt was something which no one had a right to expect of any girl. And Elizabeth Waldron still sat by 'lie dying fire, her heart, full of a fight ing which would not let her sleep. She felt humbled and Insulted, and her face burm •<] as dii 1 Iier h part. But the time she felt angry for Eugene's let- ters. a nd Will •n they came, so few and ■ old. she wa s jrr?ev ed. She ha 1 ex- ■ to her oliam- j’S said she to » going insane! i Y; now. when he ' >( underst anding j pected a dozen little caresses, even be fore he left lier carriage; and she was saddened because she missed them. She had thought of liis coming in on her in a manner quite different from that in which he had actually crept into her presence—and wtnsn be had only pressed her hands, she had felt defrauded and robbed. And when at parting he had done (somewhat forcibly, it is true! what she had many times allowed, and what she had ail the time wanted of him. she felt outraged and offended! These thoughts kept her long by the fire, and accompanied he her. “Elizabeth Waldroi iier mirror, “you are Aren't you ashamed that lias shown his love anti of the tilings you love and try to un derstand. and surprised you by tlie possession of (he very qualities you have felt secretly regretful on account of his not having—that you feel—that way? What ails you, that you begin to feel toward the dearest man in all tlie world as if he were a stranger?— Ah. but you do. you do! And you’!! never be happy with him. nor even make him happy!—And. oh, that letter, that letter! That awful letter for him to read on the ears! If you had never written that!” “What’s my manager's name— Stevens ” asked Mr. Amidon of Judge Blodgett. “Yes? Well. I’m going to have trouble with him! T won’t be bullied by my clerks. And who is tiie next, man?’’ “Alderson." said tlie judge. “It’s all in the notes, you know.” “And very convenient, too." said Ami don. “And who is tiie stenographer ” “Miss Sti-ong.” answered the judge. “Strong. Strong," said Amidon mus ingly. “Tiie author, T believe, by the notes ?” “I never said she was!" protested the Judge. “Not positively, but only—” “Well, let’s go down—or perhaps I had better go alone.” said Florian. “Please come down in an hour or so. won’t you?” Tlie judge noted for the first time the decision of returning confidence in Amidon’s manner. Two things con tributed to this: the first was the sense of something tangible and intelligible in this going down to business in the morning like an ordinary American: and the other was rising anger at tlie attack made on him by this man Stevens in the street last night. What sort of discipline can there be in the business, thought lie. when an employee dares use such language toward his employer? A good towering passion is a. great steadier of the nerves, some- limes. He walked into the counti’-g- room, saw his name and the word "Private” on the glass of a certain door, went boldly beyond it, and was followed by a young woman with a. notebook and pencil. Presently. in came Mr. Stevens without knockuig. “Here’s another pretty how-de-do!" he exclaimed, without any greeting except an angry snort. “You promised to sign that contract for the output of the Bunn’s Ferry wells while you were in New York, and didn’t! The papers are Continued on Fourth Page. Ill gl