Newspaper Page Text
THE GEO B QIAN’S MAGAZINE PAGE
“Initials Onlv By Anna Katherine Green
.1 Thrilling Mystery Story of Modern Times
(Copynfht. UHI. S;r* A t A S”.;th »
(Copyright, 1911, by Dodd. Mead «t Co )
TODAY'S INSTALLMENT
“It !j» rrue Oil.*'” men have followed
_luff such unwor’J •tnpiilweK and beei
ashamed and sorry afterwards I was
sorry and 1 was ashamed, and as soon as
my first anger was over went 10 tell her
so. Rut she rr stock m> purpose and
“ And wha t ’
Orland" he.Ciated Even his iron nature
trembled before llie misery he saw a
misery he was destined to augment rath
er than soothe. With pains altogether out
of keeping will, his • haracter, he sought
in th* recesses’ of hi® darkened mind for
words less bitter- and less abrupt than
those which sprang involuntarily to his
lips. Rut he did not find them. Though
he pitied his brother and wished to show
that he did. nothing but the stern lan
guage suitable to the stern fa< t he w ished
to impart, would leave his lips
Xnd ended Hip pitiful struggle of the
moment w th one quick, unpremeditated
blow was what he said. “There is no
other explanation possible for this act.
Oswald. Rlttpr as it is for me to ac
knowledge t, I am thus far guilty of this
beloved womans death. But. as God
hears me, from the moment I first saw
her-, io ihp moment f saw her lasi. I did
not know, nor did I for a moment dream
that ‘she was anything io you or tn any
other ’Pan of my stamp and statinn i
thought she despised my country birth,
my mechanical attempts, my lack of aris
tocratic pretensions and traditions
“Ed’th ?”
“Now that I know .she had oilier tea
sons fur her contempt lat the words
.«:.<• wr*t»te v. ere in rebuke to the b. other
lather tian to the man. I feel my guilt
and deplore my anger. I can not say
more I should but insult your grief by
any leng’l'.y expressions *>f regret ami
sorrow
A groan of intolerable anguish from the
sick man s I ps. and then the quick thrust
of his reawakened intelligence rising su
per! re to the overthrow of all his hopes
“For a woman of Edith s principle to
Meek death In a moment of desperation,
the provocation must have been very
great. Tell me if I’m to hate you through
life yea through all eternity or if 1 must
seek in some unimaginable failure of my
own character or conduct the cause of
her intolerable des pah
“Oswald* ’ The tone was controlling
and yet that of one strong man to au
othei “Is it for us to read the heart of
any woman, least of all oi a woman of her
susceptibilities and keen inner life.’ The
wish to end all comes Io some natures
like a lightning flash from a clear sky. Ii
comes, it goes, often without leaving a
sign Rut if a weapon chances to be neat
(here it was in hand) then death fol
lows the impulse which, given an instant
of thought, would have - vanished in a
back sweep of other emotions. Chance
■was the real accessory to this death
by suicide. Oswald, let us realize it as
such and accept our sorrow as a mutual
burden and turn to what remains to us
of life and labor Work is grief > only
consolation. Then let us work.*’
Rut of all this Oswald had caught but
the one word.
“Chance? ’he rcp« aied. “Orlando. I be
lieve in God.”
“Then seek your comfort there. I find
Ii in harnessing the winds; in forcing the
powers of nature to do my bidding
The other did not speak, and the si
lence grew heavy. It was broken, when it
was broken, by a cry from Oswald:
“No more.” said he. “no more. ’ 'Then,
in a y earning accent, “Send Doris to me.”
Orlando started. This name doming so
close upon that word comfort produced a
strange effect upon him. Rut another
look at Oswald and he was ready to do
his bidding. The bitter ordeal was over;
let him have his solace if it was in her
pew er to give it to him.
Orlando, upon leaving his brother's
room, did not stop to deliver that broth
er a message directly to Doris; he left
this for Truda to do. and retired imme
diately to his hangar in the woods. Lock
ing himself in. he slightly raised the roof
and then sat down before the car which
was rapidly taking on shape and assum
ing that individuality and appearance of
sentient life which hitherto be had only
seen in dreams But his eye. which had
never failed to kindle at this sight be
fore. shone dully in the semi-gloom The
air car could wait, he would first have
his hour in this solitude of his own mak
ing The gaze he dreaded, the words
from which he shrank could not penetrate
.here. He might even shout her name
aloud, and only these window less walls
would respond. He was alone with his
past, his present and his future.
Alone'
He needed to be. The strongest must
pause .when the precipice yawns before
him. The gulf can be spanned: he feels
himself forceful enough for that; but his
eyes must take their measurement of it
first; he must know its depths and possi
ble dangers. Only a fool would ignore
these steeps of jagged rock; and he was
no fool, only a man to whom the unex
pected had happened, a man who had
seen his way clear to the horizon and
then had come up against this! Love.
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wnei it- thought such folly dead! Re
ii;oi«r When Glory called for the quiet
mind and heart!
He -<<»gnized lis mordant fang and
.n» i* h»: its ravages, though only jus
heg Hi, would last hl- lifetime Nothing
* mild stop them now. nothing nothing.
Xnd he laughed, as the thought went
hon.» laughed at the irony of fate and
’ts :n«*x>rableness. laughed at his own
defeat and his nearness to a barred Para
dise .'Kwald loved Edith, loved her yet,
with h flame time would take long to
quench Doris loved Oswald and he;
Doris, and nol one of them woulZi ever >
attain the delights each was so fitted t«»
enjoy Why shouldn’t he laugh? What
is left io man but mockery when ail props
fall? Disappointment was the universal
lot. and it should go merrily with him If
he must take his turn ai it. Hut here
the strong spirit of the man reasserted
itself; it should be hut a turn A man's
joys are not bounded by his loves or even
by the satisfaction of a perfectly untram
meled mind. Performance makes a world
of its own for the capable and the strong,
and ibis was still left to him He. Or
lando Rroihereon, despair while his great
work lay unfinished! That would be to
lay stress on the inevitable pains and
fears of commonplace humanity He was
not of that ilk. Intellect was his god. am
bition his motive pow’et What would
this casual blight upon his supreme con
tentmeni hr to him. when with the wings
of his air car spread, he should -.spurn Hie
earth and soar into the heaven of fame
simultaneously with his flight into the
open
lie could wait for that hour. He had
measured the gulf before him and found
it passable. Henceforth no looking back.
Rising, he stood for a moment gazing,
w ith hi) aler t e;e now. upon such sections
of his < ar as bad not \et been fitted into
their places then he bent forward to his
work, and soon the lip« which had ut
tered that sardonic laugh a few minutes'
before, parted in gentler- fashion, and song j
t«‘»<ik Hie place of curses a ballad of love'
and fondest truth. But Orlando never j
knew what he sang He had the gift and j
used it
Would his tones, however, have rung
out with quite so mellow a sweetness had j
he een the restless figure even then cir- I
e.'ing his retreat with eyes darting accu
sation and arms lifte<l towards him in
wild but Impotent threat'.’
Yes. I think they would, for he knew
that the man who thus expressed his
helplessness along with his convictions,
was no heater Hie end he had set himself
to attain than on the day he (irst be
trayed his suspicions
The Hut Change* its Name. *
Thai night Oswald was taken very ill i
hoi three days his life hung in the bal
ance. then youth and healthy living
triumphed over shock and bereavement,
and he came slowly back to" his sad and
crippled existence. *
He had been conscious for a week or
mere of hi« surroundings, and of his bit
ter sorrows as well, when one morning
he asked Doris whose frfee it was he had I
seen bending over him so often during
'he las( w’eek “Have you a new doctor.
A man with white hair - and a comforting
smile? Or have I dreamed his face? f
have had so many fancies this might
easily be one of them."
“No, it is not a fancy.” was the quiet
reply. “Nor is it the face of a doctor. It
is that of a friend. One whose heart is
bound up in your recovery; one for whom
you must live. Mr. Brotherson.”
“I don't know him. Doris. It s a
strange face to me Xnd yet. It's not al
together strange Who is Mils man and
why should he care for me so deeply?"
“Because you share one love, and one
grief. It is Edith s father whom you see
at your bedside. He has helped to nurse
you ever since you came down this second
time.”
“Edith's father! Doris, it can not be!
Edith’s father!”
“Yes. Mr. Chailoner has been in Derby
for the last two weeks. He has only'
one interest now; to see you well again.”
“Why?”
Doris caught the note of pain, if not
suspicion, in this query, and smiled as she
asked in turn:
“Shall he answer that question him
self.’ He is waiting to come in. Not to
talk You need not fear hla talking He’s
as quiet as any man I ever saw.
The sick man closed his eyes, and Dor
is. watching, saw the flush rise to his
emaciated cheek, then slowly fade away
again to a pallor that frightened her.
Had she injured where she would heal?
Had Hie pressed too suddenly and too
hard on the ever-gaping wound in her
invalid's breast'’ She gasped in terror at
Ihe thought, then she faintly smiled, for
his eyes had opened again and showed a
calm determination as he said.
“I should like to see him. I should like
him to answer the question I have just
put you 1 should rest easier and get
well faster or- not get well at all.”
ThN latter he half whispered, and Dor
is, tripping from the room, may nol have
heard it. for her face showed no fur
ther shadow as she ushered in Mr Chal
loner. and closed the door behind him.
She had looked forward to this moment
for days. To Oswald, however, it was an
unexpected excitement and his voice
trembled with something more than phy
sical weakness as he greeted his visitor
and thanked him for his attentions.
“Doris saya that you have shown me
this kindness from the desire you have to
see me well again. Mr. Chailoner. Is this
true?”
“Very true. I <an not emphasize ihe
fait too strongly.”
Oswald’s eyes met his again, this time
with great earnestnese.
“You must have serious reasons for feel
ing SQ-~reasons which I do not quite un- I
deratand May I ask you why you place I
such value upon a life which, if ever use j
ful to itself or others, has lost apd lost '
forever, the one delight which gave it
meaning
It was tor Mi Chailoner s voice to
j tremble now as. reaching out his hanu,
l.e declared, with unmistakable teeling:
”1 have no son. I have no interest left [
in life, outside this room and the poasi- I
i bilities it contains for me. Your attach- .
men’ to my daughter has created a bond
between us. Mr Brotherson, which 1 sin
cerely hope to see recognized by you “
Startled and deeply moved, the young j
man stretched out a shaking hand toward |
l.ix visitor, with the feeble but exulting |
' I hen yuu no Hoi blame me for het
wretched and mysterious death You hold
me guiltless of the misery which nerved
her despairlng arm
I Quite guiltless
Oswald s wan and pinched features touk
on a beautiful expression and Mi Chai I
lone- no longer wondered at hm daughter s i
< hoi< »-
j "Thar k Gon ell from sk-r man's ■
il<P<. and *uen there was a silence dur na
j wm. h their 1 w.» h inds met
To Be Continued in Next Issue.
“Save Your Energy and You Will Pre:
> > Beauty,” Declares Prel
I
AJa <-/ -
'■ ' ' Ar
c A
o
By Margaret Hubbard Ayer.
SOMEWHERE way ur> high In the
tiptop of the Plaza hotel, where the
windows overlook the nark, Miss
| Frances Starr hjs her winter nest.
Her sitting room looks, less like a
hotel room than any you've ever seen,
tor it's small and of irregular build,
and it's done in a subdued kind of yel
low color, and when you come into it
the first thine that strikes vou is the
wonderful view of the uark. and then
you become aware of an excellent grand
piano in the foieground.
There are flowers and books, too. but
mark you. gentle reader not a single
photograph of the actress herself, and
that's quite characteristic of Miss
Starr. It’s only with lonsideiable ef
fort that you, can get her to talk about
herself. And she just will not talk
about "My art!"
What does she look like off the stage?
What is the Rose of the Rancho like,
and the girl who took the Easiest Way,
and Becky, tvhose case is so puzzling to
the audience at the Belasco theater, who
can be so sweet and demure and ex
quisite, and suddenly change right be
fore your eyes into a devilish little cat.
with hardly a point of resemblance to
the first character?
If Miss Starr wanted to she could
slip down into some of our social set
tlements. among the pretty young col
lege girls, who ate endeavoring so va
liantly to work for the betterment of
those less fortunate, and no one would
ever suspect that she had been on the
stage men for a minute.
The better the actress the less ac
tressy site looks, and Frances Starr has
earned her right to a foremost posi
tion among the young stars of the
stage.
"Tile Rose of the Rancho" lias grown
more thoughtful in looks, more intellec
tual, than when she took New York by
surprise in the part of the Spanish girl
fit e y ears ago.
She looks very young very slight, and
almost frail, though she is really a
strong athletic type of girl.
Het bait is a wavy brown, with
much light in it: her eyes are bljte like
the paler sapphire, and she has a deep
and very fascinating cleft in her chin,
and .site is simple, natural and totally
lacking in self-consciousness.
These particulars ate pul in at the
request of so many readers, whe seem
to spend a good deal of their energies
in figuring out whether their favorite
actress looks the same off the stage as
she does on.
Os course, I had to ask Miss Starr
what rules of health she observes. It’s
quite useless to ask a pretty gIA why
she is pretty. One should never ask
that question of a woman under thirty,
any how.
"When I am working." said Miss
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CHARMING MISS FRANCES STARR.
NOW LEADING WOMAN IN
"THE CASE OF BECKY."
Starr, simply devote-all my time
and energy to that. Beyond a short
walk every day, I do nothing which
could deplete my- store of energy. 1
really don't understand how women
can run about all day. and give out so
much vitality as they do, and have ;
anything left for their work. I'm sure!
1 can't.”
"Do you cultivate that air of my s- !
tery which Pierre Loti says is so es- !
sential to woman’s charm?" I inquired
byway of aiding conversation.
"Indeed 1 don’t,” Miss Stair put in i
quickly . "But 1 need quiet and rest j
if I'm to do my work properly. It’s :
one of the lessons I have had to learn, !
to conserve my energy for the thing !
that is worth while—work.
"Seeing too many people, even being ’
in a crowded place, is exhausting, but |
as far as the idea of shrouding one s '
self in mystery which l.oti advocates
that seems pure selfishness to me. Re
sides it's a luxury that few can afford.
Fancy the girl who has to go up and
down in tiie subway each day to her
work trying to live up to Pierre Loti’s
ideal of femininity.
"Sometimes 1 think the less one
knows about one's favorite authors the
betur," said Miss Starr, mourning a
lost Illusion.
"Somehow I never think about the
personal side of the applause." said
Miss Starr "I just fee) that I have
done what 1 wanted to and succeeded
in conveying my thoughts to the audi
ence. It is a difficult part, and though
I have the most wonderful teacher and
critic in the world —Mr. Belasco —it is a
pretty' exhausting role just the same.”
While learning the part Miss Starr
went deeply into tile study of psychol
ogy. pathology and ail the other "ujo-
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gies" which shed light on intricate
eases of dual personalities like "Becky.”
i Then site found that "Becky" is only
lone of many who. in a less dramatic
j way, have suffered from some early
: shock or mental suggestion and have
: later on joined the great army of delin
quents. feeble-minded or criminal young
; people who present the greatest social
problem of the age.
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{Mr. - .
’ iih 11 lIHIIH *
Babes From the Woods
By Beatrice Fairfax
HERE aie three letters written by
babes who imagine ’hey are in
love:
"1 am keeping company with a young
man of my age. which is seventeen. He
calls on me every night. b”t he does not
show any love to me. What can I do to
make him show his love?"
“I am sixteen, and in love with a girl
one year my junior. 1 think she doesn t
pay me the attention she ought to. I
love her. but she has never toiu me she
loves me. I would like to know a plan
by which I could find out if she recipro
cates my love for her."
"Is it any harm for a boy and girl of
sixteen to keep steady company? Some
people say that at the age of sixteen
children should never think of the op
posite sex."
Boy and giri love, called <alt-love by
those who have survived its attacks
without lasting scars, may develop into
something fine, but every chance in the
world is against it.
In Love With Love.
In the first place, children of that age
don’t know their own minds. They are
in love with love, and think they are tn
love with the boy or girl who at that
moment pleases them best. In six
weeks, still in love with love, this
mushroom offspring of a romantic brain
is attached to some other person. In
deed. given opportunity and environ
ment, the object of one’s undying love
when one Is sixteen changes as rapidly
as the scene in a moving picture
This love is serious while it lasts It
lakes time, is a waste of emotion and is
fostered and encouraged when one’s
judgment is hasty and immature.
Therein the danger lies.
Youth always swings too far both
ways. One is uncontrollably happy, or
dangerous,/ depressed. Love, never an
offspring of reason, behaves as if of in
sane parentage when those under its
sway are under sixteen.
Time that should be spent in 'naking
a valuable storehouse of the brain is
devoted to making that valuable part
of the anatomy a lumber room filled
with useless odds and ends of romance.
When one is sixteen, the brain is
strong and active and impressionable,
and lessons are easiest to master and
easiest to retain. It is a harvest time,
and it is more than a misfortune—it is
a tragedy—if girls and boys at this pe
riod of their lives moon around like
half-sick calves and think, sing and
prate of love that will not live longer
than tomorrow.
Here's the Answer.
To the writers of these three letters
I suggest a careful perusal of E. J.
Hardy, who says:
"Precociousness in love-making is a
great mistake. It prevents th
r ment of youthful years, whi, n
be free from anxiety, and l eatis t J° U ' (i
taglements and hastv artA n ’
which cause much distress
e do not advise girls to put '
rimony until they are 38G m . a ’
which was, I believe, the age I”
daughter of Enoch when she
that state-but we think the. lln
consult' tfitir best interests h. .GT'
thoughts of love and marriage or
py their minds in their 4
when they are ‘green in judgment ’
Read this quotation again
"It prevents the enjoyment ofvom).
ful years, which should be free f '
anxiety, and leads to
and hasty attachments which
much distress.”
The writers of these letters or,*
and thee- will find no argument favor
Ing- calf love that can offset this ar »>,'
ment against it.
So I urge the writer of the first
to make no attempts to get a b 9v n(
sixteen to show his love, but >frsln
from showing her own, and trv to ov .r'
come it.
I want the boy who wrote the seceM
letter to put as much worrv into Mt
lessons at school as he Is putting t„ts ,
precocious love, and T want th* wrt t»-
of the third letter to take the quotation
from Hardy for an answer
Plenty of Time.
Don’t regard this opportunity to lor,
and be loved as the last!
And don’t, if sixteen or twenty-six or
older, look upon the present as all then
, is of the future. Love will come when
you are ready for it.
"And Late Love’s even sweeter
Than First Love's tender dream."
WHYT
i He—That young widow seems to ad
mire Mr. Smith very much.
She—Yes; he is a man after her own
i heart.
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