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GREENWOOD CEMETERY.
Synopsis. Robert llervey Ran
dolph, young New York man-about
town, leaves the home of his sweet
heart, Madge Van Telller, cha
grined because of her refusal of his
proposal of marriage. His Income,
SIO,OOO a year, which he must sur
render If a certain Miss Imogen
Pamela Thornton (whom he has
seen only as a small girl ten years
before) Is found, is not considered
by the girl of his heart adequate
to modern needs. In a “'don't care"
mood Randolph enters a taxi, un
seen by the driver, and is driven
to the stage door of a theater. A
man he knows, Duke Beamer, In
duces a girl to enter the cab.
Beamer, attempting to follow. Is
pushed back by Randolph and the
cab moves on. His new acquaint
ance tells Randolph she Is a cho
rus girl, and has lost her position.
She is in distress, even hungry, and
he takes her to his apartment.
There, after lunch, a chance re
mark convinces him the girl is the
missing Pamela Thornton. He does
not tell her of her good fortune,
but secures her promise to stay in
the flat until the morning and
leaves her. Realizing that the girl’s
reappearance has left hint practi
cally penniless, he bribes the taxi
driver to let him take his Job, and
leaving word with the legal repre
sentative of the Thornton estate
where he can find Pamela, takes up
his new duties under the name of
Slim Hervey." One evening he is
engnged by Beacher Tremont, no
torious profligate, to drive him and
Madge to a hostelry known as
"Greenwood.”
PART ll—Continued.
—6—
Mr. Slim ITervey, chauffeur, was
still plunged In reverie when his senses
were assailed by a whiff of lilac, a
mere nuance of perfume, that pro
claimed the approach of Miss Madge
Van Telller. lie jumped out just in
time to throw open the door of his
cab for the couple and trike the mur
mured order of Mr. Beacher Tremont.
"All right. Hit It up for Greenwood.”
Luckily for the cabman’s entertain
ment, his engine was working in si
lent perfection that night. The late
hour gave him almost undisputed right
of way so that driving became an
automatic adjustment of his course in
line with the curb an 4 released his
attention to gorge itself at leisure
with eaves-dropping. By sqqirmlng
his shoulders he managed to cock one
ear over the top of his high overcoat
collar; it was the ear next to the open
speaking-slot.
“What a dream of a night,” said
the clear voice of Miss Van Teilier.
“Shall I be a traitor to my sex and
betray one of its secrets to you?”
“Please do,” murmured Mr. Tre
mont. From the very tone of his voice
one could divine that he had slipped
an arm around her and was holding
her close.
“Well, it’s this," she continued.
“Women are not conquered by man
alone, but by man and atmosphere.
We never rush at the precipice; we
flutter toward it with many stops and
pauses. The silliest breezes of im
pulse may carry us on or a puff of
unkind aid hold us back. It all really
depends on the man imposing his at
mosphere so steadily that the drifting
soul of woman forgets its inborn title
to vagrancy and sleepily assumes its
enemy’s goal.”
“Madge,” said Mr. Tremont almost
earnestly, “you frighten me. I never
knew 7 you could talk like that. You
frighten me because I have a terror
of analyzed personal relations.”
Randolph could hear a faint rustling
of her robe as though she had nestled
closer to her escort. “I never meant
to startle you, Beacher,” her voice
continued, not quite so clear. Into its
tone had crept, hesitatingly, a trace
of unaccustomed emotion. “I was only
warning you. Every man can make a
world of his arms for one woman;
not all can hold the illusion to be
yond possession.”
“I can, if you will only help me,”
whispered Tremont, and paused as
though his own earnestness were tak
ing him by surprise.
“I wonder,” said Miss Van Teilier.
“You have played the right game.
You have never said a vulgar thing
to me or stooped to the usual hypo
crisies; those are compliments by in
ference that have flattered the best
that Is in me. Yon have set the play
in a high plane that winning, wins
all of me; but —”
“But what?” asked Tremont.
“But thei*e Is danger in the high
flight,” finished Miss Van Telller. “An
air-pocket in your atmosphere and,
pouf! all Is lost —the good in me that
you will have missed as well as the
bad that you could have won by a
baser effort.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tre
mont, no longer making the slightest
effort to hide his awakened Interest.
“I was thinking,” said Miss Tel
lier, dreamily, “that every woman is
a gcoup of three Individuals. Shall
I tell you their names?”
“Yes,” said Tremont.
“The first,” continued the girl, her
voice floating from her as though
carried on the bosom of her dream,
“is called Flesh; the second, Spirit,
and the third —the third 1 shall name
the Veiled God.”
“Madge!” cried Tremont, and Ran
dolph, listening with all his ears, could
almost feel the clutch on his own
arms with which the man had seized
the girl’s, as though to drag her back
from her mind’s far distance.
“People wonder,” she continued, her
mood unbroken, “at the wreck of ap
parently perfect marriages and yet
it’s so simple to any woman that
it’s amazing that I should be the first
to display our open secret. Only the
complete lover can be secure of his
beloved. Beacher. He who wins her
flesh alone leaves her spirit to betray
him, and he who wins the spirit alone
is* in mortal danger of the woman of
the flesh.”
“The explanation,” said Tremont,
whimsically, “is so feminine that it
confuses. If you had said that each
woman is a trinity and must be thrice
won before a man’s honor can feel
secure, understanding would be a sim
ple matter. Did you leave out the
Veiled God purposely or just to be
different and avoid the obvious?”
“To avoid the obvious is an instinct
of breeding,” said Miss Van Telller,
“and I would never blush for doing it;
but where would your thoughts be now
If I had said just what you expected,
If I had treated the Veiled God ns a
matter of fact! Oh, no! One can
clip with words the wings of flesh and
spirit, but not of the Veiled God in
woman, for its very essence is a de
ferred possession.”
She paused, but as Tremont clung
to the silence, she presently contin
ued. VThe complete lover is the man
who having conquered all the heights
of flesh and spirit in his mistress,
dwells consciously in the presence of
an undiscovered god and gazes out
upon a broad land eternally promised,
never materially seized. Few are the
men —few are the men—” Her voice
trailed off as though her thoughts had
run ahead of words and reached final
ity without the use of the spoken
phrase.
“Few are the men who attain to
that serene security,” Tremont fin
ished for her, only half conscious of
what he was saying.
Randolph could her the rustle of
her turning to her companion. “How
wonderful,” she said. “That is what
I thought, but didn’t say.”
“Madge,” said Tremont, “what have
you done? It’s true that I have never
stooped to hypocrisies with you and
that 1 have never while with you
spoken a vulgar word. Did you
think that I have been knowingly
wise? Well, 1 haven’t. I didn’t know
until this moment why I chose a rare
and high atmosphere to reach you.
Now I know. It was because you were
there. I chose only to come to you
rather than drag you down to the drab
of the usual. What you have done is
to carry me higher than I ever meant
to go. You have taken me off the
beaten path and showed me an un
expected treasure. I’m no longer my
self. I am cold and afraid.”
Randolph could feel that the speak
er was drawing away from the girl
and a moment later his senses were
to surpass thems'elves In additional
divination. "You are afraid of that
woman in me?” asked Miss Van Tei
lier softly. “What about this one?”
And then it was that Randolph’s de
ductive antennue quivered under their
burden of intelligence. He knew as
certainly as though he had faced
about that an adorable Madge, tender
and wide-eyed, had slipped her bare
arms around Beacher Tremont’s neck
and kissed him on the mouth.
There was a long silencff; then
HENRY COUNTY WEEKLY, McDONOUGH, GEORGIA.
came Tremont’s voice, thick and
strange to the ear. "A moment ago,"
it said, "I was afraid for you; now
I’m afraid for myself. I am like a
man who has carelessly dropped a
lighted match and finds himself with
in the ring of a prairie fire. 1 can
only wonder at my stupidity in think
ing of you in connection with a casual
possession and not as a consuming
flame. You see? Already you have
burned through the thin crust of lies
that guards man from definite seizure
by woman —any woman.”
“Kiss me, Beacher," murmured the
girl’s voice as though his words had
swirled around and by her, leaving
her purpose untouched. “Take me
and hold me carefully where no un
kind air can drive me from you. Take
all the women in me —one by one if
you must.”
At that moment Mr. Robert H. Ran
dolph, in tlie person of Slim Hervey,
chauffeur, very nearly wrecked his
four-cylinder argosy with its burden
of three futes, still Individually and
collectively indispensable to the con
tinuity of this yarn. He missed the
ditch by a hair’s breath, caught his
own with a gasp, returned to the mid
dle of the broud highway and fixed
his attention on a certain very definite
matter with which it had been more
or less constantly concerned ever since
he had been directed to hit it up for
Greenwood.
The road to that well-known hostel
ry was usefully devious and fares
were seldom worried as to how any
particular driver set out to find this
choicest of needles in the hay-stack of
the country inns that dot the land
scape of Westchester and adjacent
counties as long as he brought the
search to a successful end somewhere
this side of the pangs of hunger.
Nevertheless, had not Mr. Tremont,
himself a motorist of no mean experi
ence, been completely absorbed by the
sudden discovery that he had sis
right arm around an entirely iww
world, he would have been struck in
evitably by two things. First, tbst
this was certainly not any one of the
climbing roads to the Greenwood hos
telry; second, that the man at the
wheel knew more about losing his way
in the vicinity of Manhattan and find
ing it again than did the combined
roadmaps of the United States and
its allies —supposing it to have had
allies at the time. However. Mr. Tre-
c?
‘Greenwood Cemetery, Sir," He Barked
mont’s absorption was not only abso
lute but continuous so that it held
him in its inexorable grip right up to
the moment of ghastly awakening and
even over the edge. He was just say
ing, “My darling, never fear. I’m
taking you to a place so quiet and so
guarded that this dream which you
have dressed in an unexpected glory
can flow on unbroken as long as we
are true to It and to ourselves,” when
the cab drew up at a solemn and im
pressive portal.
Without leaving his seat, the cab
man reached back, unlatched the door
and threw It open. “Greenwood ceme
tery, sir.” he barked.
The girl was first to grasp the
words, the time and the place. “Oh!”
she gasped, and in the sound of her
cry Mr. Randolph could divine her
whole body suddenly stiffening to a
tense awakening and to the stabbing
memory of the last time she had come
to this still place, her heart bursting
with its long farewell to all that was
left of her mother.
Then came Mr. Beacher Tremont’s
voice in oldtime familiar tones.
"Greenwood cemetery! Why, you tri
plicate blockhead, I said Greenwood
hostelry. Of all the d —n fools! What
the devil — What the h —l1 — What
the — What —”
He choked himself Into a gulping
Inarticulate silence as he climbed
from the cab to look in the face the
sum total of all human stupidity. No
sooner had he alighted than Miss Van
Telller found herself in voice again.
“Oh! oh 1” she moaned, pressing her
hands to her eyes, achingly open,
“take me away from here.”
"Sure, miss,” said Mr. Randolph
promptly, threw in bis clutch and was
off.
“Hi, you! D —n you! Hey! You!
Driver! Confound your d —d imper
tinence ! Hey! How am I going to
get home?” The first of these cries
was very plainly, the last very faintly
heard by Mr. Randolph. After them
came down the wind something that
sounded very much like the ghost of
a wail of despair, but the driver paid
no heed. His attention was absorbed
by something quite different; the dry
sobs of a little heap of smoke-colored
chiffon.
Detours, subterfuges and the finesse
of the road-faker were swept from
Randolph’s mind; he made straight
for the bridge and home, but long be
fore they reached the river all sound
had ceased to issue from the cab and
in its stead reigned a purposeful, al
most menacing silence. What was
she thinking in there? What could
she think? Why didn’t she go right
on crying and keep her mind fully
occupied with that?
As they swept down the Incline
from the bridge into City Hall park
he suddenly realized that he had been
on the verge of giving himself away.
He half turned his head and shouted
through the speaking-slot, “What ad
dress, miss?”
“Bobby, I hate you.**
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
SHRINES BEYOND ALL PRICE
United States Has Many That Are In
expressibly Dear to the Hearts
of the People.
This old Plymouth church belongs
to the noble dead, to the living only
as trustees, but by way of pre-emi
nence it belongs to the generations
that are as yet unborn. Civilization
journeys forward partly on books,
partly upon the memorial days of great
men, who are builders of the state,
upon organized laws and finally upon
historic buildings.
No one can fully value the Influence
of the Temple in Jerusalem upon the
Hebrew state. In like manner the
Parthenon was like an invisible teach
er, whose strong hands shaped the
plastic soul of the Greek race, There
are half a dozen buildings in Great
Britain, including Westminster abbey
and St. Paul’s, and to take those
buildings out of England’s life would
be like taking the intellect out of
man’s body.
The people of the United States have
but a brief history, cen
turies, but they have Independence
hall H ‘Mount Vernon, that shaft at Get
tysburg, Faneuil hall, Old South
church, Lincoln’s house and shrine at
Springfield, and old Plymouth church,
priceless shrines for the American peo
ple. —Newell Dwight Hillis.
Fever Present in Mental Disease.
Doctor Bond in the Boston Medical
.Journal adds a new item to medical
knowledge of mental disease. In 71
mental patients, fevers, slight or se
vere, transitory or chronic, occurred
in over 50 per cent, a surprising re
sult for consecutive cases. The di
agnoses varied and show that fever
occurred in imbecility, epilepsy, ar
teriosclerotic dementia, general par
alysis, dementia praecox and maniac
depressive psychoses. Of 19 maniac
depressive insanity patients, 13 had
fever and 6 did not. Of 19 de
mentia praecox patients, 8 had fe
ver and 11 did not, this being the
only disease in which normal temper
atures were found more often than
the reverse.
“Old Colony” Dinner.
That cranberries belong to the tra
ditional Pilgrim dinner is shown by
the menu of the “decent repast”
served at the first “Celebration of the
Landing of our Forefathers,” which
was observed December 22, 1769. This
day was celebrated by the Old Colony
club of Plymouth with a procession
and a dinner consisting of a large
baked Indian whortleberry pudding, a
dish of cauquetach (succatash) ; a
dish of clams; a dish of oysters and
dish of codfish; a haunch of venison
roasted by the first jack brought into
the colony; a dish of fowl; cranberry
tarts, a dish of frost fish and eels, an
apple pie, a course of cheese made in
tjie old colony.
Effect of Wrong Books.
Some wrong food at the right mo
ment, as every mother knows, may
send a child into convulsions. The
wrong book at the right time doesn’t
have such an immediately apparent ef
fect. but it may later be the cause of
a mental convulsion which will seri
ously mar the child’s whole life, says
Mothers’ Magazine.
Fault Finder Loses Out.
Uncle Ab says: The man who al
ways finds fault with the weather
won’t have any real indignation when
he needs it for a cause that he ca*
do something about.
He who borrows money of hl» neigh
bor never hears the la*t ©f ,14
ONE NEIGHBOR
TELLS ANOTHER
Points the Way to Comfort
and Health. Other Women
Please Read
Moundsville, W. Va. —“I had taken ‘
doctor’s medicine for nearly twp years
HWItfIIUUH) because my periods
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111 anc * * w °nld suffer
faafi with bearing-down
Hlk filSi P ains - A lady told
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How many young girls suffer as Mrs.
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day in and day out no matter how hard
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who puffers m this way should try Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound and
if she does not get prompt relief write
to the Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co.,
Lynn, Massachusetts, about her health.
Such letters are held in strict confi
dence.
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“I have but one regret,” exclaimed 1
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