Newspaper Page Text
THE GEORGIAN’S MAGAZINE PAGE
“The Gates of
Silence”
By META BIMMINB.
Author of “Hushed Up”
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
No answer -no movement. If this was
not death It was a semblance more ter
rible than death itself
With a cry Betty started to her feet
A rough hand was on her shoulder, an
gry. unfriendly faces surrounded her.
"This Is a woman's trick You'll pay
for this, the pair o' you Where's he
gone, and what did you give him to go
In” That convict's rig-out was a blind
She stared stupidly. lack had got away
er was he still In hiding In that Inner
’wim’ Surely that was not possible, since
vne sounds that came to her ears still
told her that the very furniture was being
smashed and broken, as though In their
anger and chagrin they Imagined their
quarry might have taken refuge In a
chair leg or the casing of a bed
Rough words, threats a contemptuous
stirring of the prostrate body on the floor
, —and then the tramp of departing feet
Betty Lumsden was left alone with the
woman who was without sign of life, and
yet lived, the woman Incapable of move
ment or of speech.
And only as the sound of their going
grew more faint, corning less distinctly,
winnowed by distance, did the wonder
obtrude itself in Betty's, mind, triumph
ing e'en over distress and pity and ap
prehension What was the conclusion of
that broken sentence Deborah Rlmlngton
bad flung across the kitchen to the
warder"’ What was that alienee It was
Impossible to keep that silence, alas, that
row -seemed sealed Inviolate forever.
Running running through the dark- I
bees. The madness of flight had taken
Rimington by the throat once more in that
moment of freedom In Betty's room, when '
he found himself there by the window
open almost to the ground, and had
dropped through it and discovered the
Inconceivable- that the cottage was not
surrounded, that the chief warder's whis
tle bad called the men off. and that now
once again a bold dash and he would he
cut in the open under cover, perhaps,
before they had exhausted oven the slight
hiding place the cottage afforded
The food and drink and warmth more
than thia, the unexpected Joy of Betty's
ijiresenr-e then, so amazing and Incredible
that even now it was like, the passing of
■ dream had put new life into him. now
Courage. Hr had caught up a cloak from
the bed—a great circular cloak that Betty
had brought with her to protect her
■ gainst the changeable climate of the
moorland It would not completely cover!
him— -unhappllv. those grotesque stock
ings would still be visible, but at least
he would rot he an instant target for all I
eyes, and above all. he would have some '
protection against the perishing cold
With the desperation of hope Riming
ton stumbled through the darkness, in
what direction he hardly knew, and, as
he went, heard distantly the view-halloa
of the pursuers.
Hla speed increased, hut the ground was
becoming difficult More than once lie
■tumbled, and saved himself from a fall
only by staggering sprawl that lost him
time and breath- lessened the space be
tween him and those that followed, whose
footsteps sounded nearer now
No hope of reaching cover, since to
take cover here would be but to sit down
■nd wait for capture: and to run on. a
black blot against the whiteness of the
frost-powdered ground, tha* was madness
too ,
They had sighted him was It possible ,
never till that moment .' He heard the
shrilling of the whistles, heard the words f
of command to hall and surrender, and <
still he ran blindly now He heard the ,
Sir behind him cut with the stinging
message of a bullet, and still he ran: a F
second short whined past him. and a <
third
That had not failed of Its mark It
•truck him sharply. lie stumbled stag- 1
gered on—fell. He heard the noise of t
Voices growing louder, the tramp of feet.
•nd then darkness closed his senses and
the world of pain and fear was blotted 1
cut ,
Back In Jail.
When Rlmlngton recovered consclotas
ness he found himself lying In the prison '
Infirmary, sick and faint his body, as it '
■'•emed. a living pain. For some time he I
lay there, hardly realising what had hap- <
pened But presently the movements t
■ bout him— the rough touch of the or
derly, words that took a long time to
filter through to his consciouness and '
recollection—rushed in over him recol
lection and despair
Shot In trying to escape, dragged back '
In Ignominy to the prison after freedom
of forty-eight hours -forty eight hours
that bad meant special work, special ,
anxiety and special hardships for every
one of the prison official-- What would
the punishment meted out to him for this
■he" The official punishment the unoffl- ’
cla! punishment of his captors each of I
whom would now owe him a personal I
grudge- ’ I
He had enough experience of the of- ,
fleers to realize that if prison life bru
talized their charges. It also, to a cer
tain extent, brutalized them, and It re- '
quires very little taste of an absolute '
autocracy to develop the tyrant in a 1
•tian.
He turned hla face to the wall and - •
•ursed the fate that had sent the bullet
-wide of the fatal mark
But the wound, though it had success- 1
fully winged him. was only a superficial 1
one. The doctor, friendly no longer. '
treating him. as the did the cl aplaln.
■with unveiled suspicion, hastened to as-
Bure him of that Nor were others m '
authority less ready to show him that he t
bad forfeited all claim to consideration
An escape so determined so nearly suc
cessful —the irony of the phrase bit into
Rimlngton's soul au offense not ,
lightly to be condoned The governot i
had already suffered something f >he
pangs of losing the x'SUO that w- uhl have
been forfeited by the successful e-ca|.e. I .
and regarded him with no lenient •i ,-
From no quarter did Rlmlngton fail •• i
hear of the bitter penalty i•• must be
expected to pay
To Be Continued in Next Issue.
I
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The great Napoleon, In respoi to
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a
Anol In r ven conimo|i cnse of graft and very well known to young Romeos and big Sister Juliets, goes on in almost every decent household with a pretty girl
and a persistent wee brother in it. It's most familiar phase uttered by the passionately pleading lips of a hopelessly crooked young man.
Hires a new quarter, Apple-cheeks, if you’ll see how slow you can go around the corner and back!”
B\ VIRGINIA TERHUNE
VAN DE WATER.
BEATRICE MINOR sat at her writ
ing table, brows knit anti lips
compressed. This was the day on
which Robert Maynard had promised to
call, and she was writing to him. can
celling the engagement. A messenger,
waiting in the hall Impatiently twirling
a cap between restless hands and a
quantity of torn note paper in the
waste basket, gave evidence thnt It Is
not oast for < woman to write a cer
t iin kind of tetter.
Even now Beatrice hesitated nt sev
ering al! relations with the man whom
she hud found charTning. hut the mem
ory of fils bleared eyes and flushed,
drunken face, wearing the expression
she had seen too often on Tom May
nard's countenance, moved her sick- |
eningly and turned doubt into deter
mination.
At last the letter wns finished. She
read it over carefully;
"Mj Pear Mr. Maynard I regret that
it will lie impossible for me to see you
this evening. My plans are unsettled
and necessitate my asking you not to
call hereafter without previous an
nouncement. Very truly yours.
"BEATRICE MINOR."
The writer felt a qualm of uncer
tainty as she handed the missive to the
impatient messenger, a qualm which
had strengthened to doubt by the time
he had slammed the door behind him.
Having burned her bridges she began,
woman fashion, to torture herself by
dwelling mentally upon the advantages
of the now inaccessible shore One
minute she reproached herself for her
Insincerity in not telling the man frank
ly the cause of her displeasure, the
next she was regretting, again her bet
ter Judgment, that she had been so
peremptory and final in breaking off
their friendship.
The Telephone Interrupts.
And while she thus pondered, the tel
ephone, ns often before, sounded ab
ruptly across her musings.
Hello!" she replied hastily.
Is Mrs. Minor in?" asked a familiar
voice. It was Robert Maynurd.
For a moment Beatrice hesitated.
Writing a letter of dismissal was one
tiling, breaking with a man like May
nard by word of mouth was quite an
other
I his is Mrs Minor's maid, sir." she
replied in an assumed voice, and as
steadily as she could. "Mrs. Minor is
not at home at present."
"Thank you- I'll try to call up later."
said tile masculine tones.
With a trembling hand, Beatrice re
turned the receiver to Its hook and
went ba< k to her drawing room, glanc
ing guiltily at the kitchen dom ns site
pas-ed It, wonderin" uneasily if th,
e iianl had heard her preva rt, aiion
"'lien .lack and .Iran came home to
ptmTaon tile hoy after a grave look
- u "f bel s ex. s asked w till a
'chide k,-,m dis. eminent x en't vou
I well, mmhei *'
' < ertain ■» . r. . >, . i f;.. ,t co, f..r. ing
h'Ts, : t. .-n , might Why <l» you
i“ ,k - deurr
Hunting a Husband
"You look kind of unhappy," remark
ed the child.
At the 5 o'clock tea time Mr. Blanch
ard came in.
"I ran in for just a few minutes." he
announced, "to see if you are quite w ell
again today. You looked very bad last
night.”
"I am entirely well.” smiled Beatrice,
"and somewhat ashamed of myself for
my last night's weakness. Won't you
sit down and have a cup of tea with
me?" ;
"I'm afraid 1 can't,” demurred "Uncle |
Henry." sinking, nevertheless, into a
chair and glancing! at his watch. "Helen
asked mo to leave a note from her at a (
house on Riverside Drive, and,” laugh- .
Ing slyly, “this was en route. 1 hope,"
turning suddenly grave, "that those
j
Up-to-Date Jokes ' '
The following conversation was rt- •
cently overheard in a public billiard
room:
Marker—Would you like a game. sir. '
with that gentleman over there? 1
Regular Customer —Well, what kind ’
of a game does he play? '
Marker —Rotten game. sir.
Regular Customer —All right. What 1
points ought I to give him’ 1
Marker -Better play even, sir.
A volunteer, who had been a railway (
porter before th'e South African war, |
on his return resumed his duties, and ,
on being asked one May by a traveler
if he noticed any changes since he left, ,
replied:
j
“Sure, an' <>i do. sorr. The ellven
train now shtarts at twelve; the ex- |
press doesn't shtop at ail. an' there's
no lasht train!" 1
"The boy has evidently been eating 1
too much between meals," said the doc
tor. _ (
"Nonsense!" replied the boy's father; i
I "a boy can't eat in his sleep." i
"How do you mean?”
"I mean that each of his meals be
gins when he gets up In the morning I
and ends wlien he goes to bed."
A somewhat formal visitor asked a I
little girl.
“How are you. my dear?”
V*-\ well, thank .vou," replied th*- I
iitt’e gh
“Now." continued the visitor, *‘)ou[
should ask me how I am."
■ But 1 don’t want to know," whs th*
I utiuxpei It <■ i ep’y.
“Do you believe that we eve- shto
our rea bent when we are children“
| asked Hiinks of the genial philosopher i
l "Yes,’ slid the genial philosopher. |
"1 know a barber in this town who at
the hid of ten was the mo?: disagree- !
fab)*- Utt-* shaver you eve? saw. an i j
a \\ay> io \. J up in som< kind <»f a bad '
scrape "
\ man calling on his butcher to ordei '
s*»m-thing for dinnf- was asked if h<*,
i I would ike tn have a saddle - f mutton
’ Wh'J saej hi ‘no fd h n»t b» bet '
‘ t.v to have a bridle as 1 should then |
«» ■. t.i .n‘\ ’Hand a better chance of ■
I tn g a bit tn my mouth?** I
boisterous men at the table near us
last night did not shock you, for”
But Beatrice interrupted him
brusquely. “No,” she answered quiok
ly. “and don’t let's talk of them! Have
you seen the lovely view of the Park
I get from this room?”
To divert her caller from the un- '
pleasant subject she accompained him
to the window. He leaned out and
looked up and down the street and. at
sight of a familial' figure approaching
along the pavement below him, he
hastily drew in his I:t:xd.
“Yes. it's real fine up here, isn't it?"
he agreed hastily. “And now I must be '
going, Mrs. Minor.”
Uncle Henry Escapes.
Beatrice had not seen the object that i
c aused his sudden discomfiture and was
somewhat puzzled at her guest’s flurry
of uneasiness.
"Oh, stay a little longer, won't you?”
she urged cordially. "The tea-tray is
coming in a minute.”
“I wish I might stop longer.” replied ,
Uncle Henry over his shoulder as he
hastened down the hall. "But it's late, ,
and I’ve an errand to do—and I have
to go. No. don't ring for the elevator."
he protested as Beatrice made a motion
toward the bell. “I’ll wajk down—l'd
rather, really. Good-bye. my dear,
good-bye!”
Beatrice looked after the scuttling 1
form in perplexed amazement. A mo
ment later when the elevator left at
her door Helen Robbins, she was 1
somewhat enlightened.
"Oh." she laughed In spite of herself.
"I might have known you were com
Ing!”
“Why?" asked Helen suspiciously, as
she glanced about the drawing room,
and noticed the tea tray, which had
just been brought in, and the two cups
resting upon It.
Beatrice laughed somewhat confus- i
edly. “Perhaps," she said, "because
two cups means company, and Mary
brought in two just before you arrived.”
"I was wondering," acknowledged
Helen, seating herself in an easy chair.
"If I might not meet Uncle Henry here.
He was coming up to this part of town
with a note 1 asked him to deliver, and
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I bACIOfIAI TOltrr CO.WM.Vf. Z.ru. Fwus
Ihe Widow's Aged Suitor Calls Just After She Has
Dismissed Maynard, Whom She Can Not Forgive
he was so eager to act as my messen
ger that I thought perhaps he meant to
stop here.”
Beatrice felt her friend’s sharp eyes
upon her face, but she answered light
ly. "I don't think," she added, reflec
tively, “that Mr. Maynard has ever
come here to afternoon tea. I wigh he
would. Two lumps, dear?" she asked,
with the sugar lumps poised in air
above the cup of steaming tea.
"One, please, Honey," was the equal
ly indifferent reply.
There was a short silence while the
two women sipped their tea, each se
cretly wondering what the other's
thoughts were at that particular mo
ment. Then Helen spoke.
"My dear Beatrice,” she declared, “1
could have gone through the floor with
Do You Know—-
A St. Louis man who has obtained a
divorce on grounds of cruelty declared
that his wife’s favorite pastime was
putting pepper in his tobacco to njake
him sneeze.
A 10,000-mile journey was under
taken by Mr. Henry Cross, of Exton.
Rutland, for the purpose of bringing
home the body of his son. who died ar
Calgary’, Alberta, Canada.
In one year 4,472 hours of bright
sunshine are possible; during 1910 the
actual total was 1.300; during 1911.
1.847 hours.
Within a period of 50 y ears the pop
ulation of the United States has in
creased 330 per cent.
France's fatest train is the one run
ning from Paris to Busigny. a distance
of 112 miles, in 112 minutes.
Low Summer
Excursion Rates
CINCINNATI, $19.50
LOUISVILLE, SIB.OO
CHICAGO, - $30.00
KNOXVILLE L S7JO
Tickets en Sale Daily, Good
io October 31 si, Returning
City Ticket Office,! Peachtree
• shame and confusion the other after-
• noon when Robert Maynard walked in
just as we were talking of him. I did
not even hear the front door open or
close. Do you suppose he heard what
. you said while he was out in the hall?”
I don t care whether he did or not,”
replied Beatrice, calmly. “Every word
! I said was true. And I’ll tell him so
to his face if he ever speaks to me |
about it."
"You wouldn’t do such a thing, would
you?” gasped Helen.
"I certainly would!” said the widow,
firmly.
Mrs. Robbins took the last swallow of
tea in her cup, returned the cup to the
table, folded her hands, and, leaning
back in her chair, eyed her friend ju
dicially. And Beatrice knew that once
more she would be expected by her
match-making friend to give an ex
planation of her seemingly rabid views
of the man who had, of late, occupied
much of her waking thoughts.
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The Wavward
•/
Heart
•
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
‘Why did you love him? Curious
fool! be still— ,
Is human love the growth of hu
man will?” —Lord Byron.
A WIDOW, whose heart is just as
wayward as if this were her first
sojourn in the Kingdom of Love,
writes:
“I am a young widow, with one child.
I have a nice little home and a good
business, and I also get a small month
ly allowance from my father, which I
am to get as long as I live. I am a
pleasure-loving Woman, and, as all my
relatives live far away. I have to de
pend upon men’s society for amuse
ment.
“Among my friends are three men
for whom I feel more than friendship.
One, of thirty-three, a business man, a
good, honest, upright man, who asks
me to marry him; who loves me 'and
who loves my child, and would be a
good father to it. I have asked him to
wait a year He says if I don't marry
him this month he will go away.-
“No. 2 is a playwright and violin
player. He loves me, but he does not
love children, and would make a poor
father for my child. He says if I re
fuse to marry him he will remain my
friend, providing I marry no one else.
“No. 3 is the man I love. He likes
me only as a friend, and I could not
marry him because of his youth, even
if he wanted me to.
“But I would be willing to give up
the others and just be friends with
him all through life. I am not at all
good looking.”
Let us look these three candidates
over as carefully as if they were pump
kins on the market.
No. 1 is a good, honest, upright bus
iness man; loves the mother and also
loves the child. Yet she passes him by.
* e wayward heart of a woman is re
sponsible for many fine matrimonial
bargains that are left for some otht r
woman to find.
No. 2 does not love children Some
how, this woman loses a little of the
luster of maternity in putting his name
on the list. She also exposes herself
to the suspicion of having little sense.
For he says he will still be friends
with her though she refuses to marry
him. “providing she marries no onp
else.” Knowing this selfishness, she
enters his name among those whom
she is considering!
No. 3 is too young for her to marry.
Then, I contend, he is also too young
for her to love. Such a friendship as
she dreams of with him will be fatal
to her, and I wonder that she con
siders it.
My advice would be that she take
No. 1 and thank a kind Providence for
sending such a man.
CASTOR IA
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