Newspaper Page Text
THE GEORGIAN’S MAGAZINE 1 PAGE
Only ti By Anna Katherine Green
4 Thrilling Mystery Story of Modern Times
(Copyright. J9ll Ft <nt. X S h )
(Copyright, 1911, by lh u. Mead .< Co)
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT
“It 1s true. Other oen have followed
just such u?• worth-', m pulses an<i been
ashamed and sorr> afterwards I nas
sorry and ! w is La me ■. and a« «• <-n as
my first anger was over went to tell her
to But s sh pose and
“And what "
Orlando Fvs.ia :e.i Ev»«j. i.is iron nature
trembled before the miser \ sa* a
misery he was destined lo augment rath
er than sootht With pains altogether out
of keeping v. >tl is <’ u rar ter. ho sought
in the recesses of his darkened mind for
words less hitter and less abrupt than
those which sprang involumarib to his
Bps. But he -i d not find them Though
he pitied hi® brother and wished »<• show
that he did nothing but tin stern lan
guage suitable io the stern fact h* u >;ied
to impart, \\< uld leave his lips
"\nd ended the pitiful struggle of the
moment with one quick, unpremeditated
blow.’’ was what he said "There no
other explanation possible L.r this ad.
Oswald. Bitter as it is f"i me to ac
knowledge I am thus far 1 g ;i’t\ of this
beloved womans death. But. as God
hears me. from the moment I first saw
her. to ti e moment I saw het last I did
not know, not did I for a moment dream
that she v,.anything to you or to am
other mat of my stamp and station i
thought the <!• spi«ed my country b rib.
my mechanical attempts, no. lack of aris
tocratic pretensions and traditions ”
•Tdi-b
*‘.\ow that I know she had other rea
sons for per contempt that th* words
s'c wrote were in rebuke to the brother'
rather than to the man. I feel m> guilt
and deplore m\ anger. I can not *ay
more I should but insult >our grief bj
any length; ex pre < -ms of regret and
sorrow.”
\ groan of intolerable anguish Item the
s < k man's I ps. and then the quick thrust
of his reawakened intelligence firing su
perior to the rtvfh’lhrow of all his hopes.
"For a woman of Edith's priuciph to
seek death in a moment of desperation,
the provocation must have been very
great. Tell me if I'm to hale you through
life yea through all eternit.x or if I must
seek in some unimaginable failure of my
own character or conduct the «a iso of
her intolerable despaii
"Oswald”' The tone was controlling,
and yet that of one strong man io an
other "Is it for us to read t! c heart of
any woman, least of all of a woman of her
susceptibilities ami keen inner life The
wish to end all comes to son e nuturea
like a. lightning flash from a clear sky. It
comes, it goes, often without leaving a
sign. But if a weapon < han< es to be neat
-there 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 emotion* 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 ami turn to what remains to us
of life and labor. Work is grief's only
consolation Then let us work ”
But of all thl* Oswald had caught but
the one word
“Chance?” he repeated. “Orlando. I be
lieve in God.”
” f Then seek* your comfort there. I find
it in harnessing the winds; In fur< ing 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 cr\ from Oswald;
".Xu more,” said he. “no mor* . I,'hen,
in a yearning accent, “Send Doris to me."
Orlando started. This name coming so
(•lose upon that word comfort produced a
strange effect upon him. Hut another
look at Oswald and he was ready to do
his bidding. The hitler ordeal was over;
!*t him have his solace if it was in her
power to give it to him
Orlando, upon leaving his brother's
room, did not stop to deliver that broth
cr s tpessage directly to Doris; he left
this for? Truda to du. and retired imme
diately to his hangar in the woods. Tick
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 he had only
seen in dreams But his exe. which had
ne\er tailed to kindle at this sight be
fore. shone dully in the semi-gloom The
air rar could wait; he would first have
h « hour in tins solitude of his own mak
’i)g The gaze he dreaded, the words
from which he shrank could not penetrate
her* He might even shout her name
aloud, and onl\ these windowless walls
would respond lie was alone with his
past, his present and his future
\h.ne'
He needed to hr. The strongest must
"«>’•••• when the precipice yawns before
tint. The gulf can be spanned; he feels
himself forceful enough for that , but his
eye* 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 ho was
no fool, only a man to whom the unex
pected had happened, a man who had
seen his way clear to the horizon ami
then had com*? up against this! Love.
vff >E« A --rfv ,' ; i &A>
WHEN YOUR HAIR BRUSHES OUT
Your hair is ns sensitive as your skin —
even more so. It stands up under heavy
hats, curling irons, and diseases of the
scalp, etc. But there is a limit.
When you comb and brush vour hair in
the morning, watch for the “TRAILERS”
that turn grey, fall out, and comb out with
the first morning brush.
You MUST know that there’s something
wrong. If your hair was in good health,
it wouldn’t fall out, nature nex er intended
that. There it something wrong at the root
of things-the hair needs a tonic-a restorer.
When you are sick you take medicine.
That is your first thought. Its turning grey,
falling out, are both wavs the hair has of
“complaining of illness.” it can’t do it
in any other wav. —Do YOUR part. Use-
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]v, rer i e thought such folly dead! Ke- I
nurse when Glorx called for the quie» I
I n ird and heart !
ll» recognized Its mordant fang, and I
■km ■ hat its ravages, though only just |
, I begun would last his lifetime Nothing!
.d su»p them now. nothing, nothing.
. ; Amt l.e laughed, as the thought went
.(home; laughed at the irony of fate and
its imxorableness: laughed at his own
defeat and his nearness to a barred Para
. d se 'swald loved Edith, luved her yet,
will: a flame time would take long to
quench Doris loved Oswald and he
Doris, ami not one of them would ever
attain the delights each was so fitted to |
enjov Why shouldn t he laugh? What [
! is left to man but mockery when all props i
fall? Disappointment was the universal I
lot and it should go merrily with him if
he must take his turn at ii. But here
the strong spirit of the man reasserted
itself; it should be but a turn. A man's
joys are not bounded by Ids loves or even
by the satisfaction of a perfectly untram
meled mind. Performance makes a world
of Its own for the capable and the strung, i
and this was still left to him lie. Or- !
lamin Broiherson. despair while his great |
work lay unfinished! That would be to I
lay stress on the Inevitable pains and
fears of < ummonpla< humanity. Fie was ;
not of that ilk. Intellect was his god; am- '
Idtion his motive powet. What would
this casual blight upon his supreme con
tentment be io him. when with the wings
of his air car spread, ho should spurn the
earth and soar into the heaven of fame
simultaneously with his flight into the
open
lie could wait for that hour, lie had
measured the gulf before him and found
It passabh Henceforth no looking back.
Rising, he stood for a moment gazing,
with an alert eye now. upon such sections |
of Ids car as had not yet been fitted into j
their plucos, then he bent forward to h!s
work, and soon the Ups which had ut- ■
tered that sardonic laugh a few minutes :
before, parted in gentler fashion, and song
took the place of curses a ballad of love
and fond€ t truth. But oflando never
knew what hr sang lie had the gift and
used It.
Would Ids tones, however, have rung
out with <|iiite so mellow a sweetness had
he seen the’restless figure even theft cir
cling Ids retreat with eyes darting accu
sation and arms lifted 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 nearer the emJ he bail set himself
to attain than on the day he first be
trayed his suspicions.
The Hut Changes its Name.
Tha' night Oswald was taken very ill •
I* or three days ids life hung In the bal- I
am e. then youth and healthy' living I
triumphed over shuck and bereavement.'
and tie came slowly back to his sad and
■ crippled existence.
He had been conscious for a week or
’ more of his surroundings, and of his bit
i ter sorrows as well, when one morning
he asked Doris whose face it was he had '
seen bending over him so uften during
the last week: “Have you a new doctor?
1 A man with white hair and a comforting
smile’’ <>r have I dreamed his face? I
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
Im 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. Its a
strange face to me \nd yet. it’s not al
together strange Who is this man and
» why should he care for me so deeply?"
i “Because you share one love and one
’ grief It is Edith's father- whom you see
• al your bedside. He has helped to nurse
you ever since you came down this second
time.”
"Edith’s lather! Doria. It can not be!
Edith's father!”
"Yus. Mr. (,’halloner has been in Derby
for the last two weeks He has only
one interest now . tn see vou well again."
“Why°”
Doris caught the note of pain, if not
i suspicion, in this query , and smiled as she
asked in turn:
’ “Shall he answer that <iuesiion him
self He is waiting lo come in. Not to
; talk You need not fear his talking. He's
as quiet as any man I ever saw
■ The sick man closed bls eyes, and Dor-
• is. watching, saw the flush rise to his
emaciated cheek, then slowly fade away
i again to a pallor that frightened her.
i Had she injured where she would heal?
• Had she pressed 100 suddenly and too
' hard on the ever-gaping wound In her
Invalid s breast" She gasped in terror at
the thought, then she fainUy smiled, for
his eyes had opened again and showed a
calm determination as he said
"1 should like to see him I should like
1 him to answer the question I have just
1 put you I should rest easier and get
well faster or not get well at all.”
This latter he half whispered, and Dor
is. tripping from the room, may not have
heard it. for her face showed no fur
ther sh.adow as she ushered in Mr Chal
loner, atd closed the door behind him.
She had looked forward tu this moment
for days. To Oswald, however, it was an
iinexpected excitement and his voice
I trembled with something more than phy
' sical weakness as he greeted his visitor
' and thanked him for his attentions.
“Doris says that you have show’n me
this kindness from lhe desire you have io
t <eo me well again. Mr Chailoner Is this
; true?’’
“Very true. 1 can not emphasize the
1 fact too strongly."
Oswald’s eyes met his again, this time
with great earnestness.
"Vou must have serious reasons for feel
ing so reasons which I do not quite un
derstand. May 1 ask you why you place
such value upon a life which, if ever use
ful to itself or others, has lost and lust ’
forever, the one delight which gave It I
meaning
It was for Mr Chailoner s voice lo ;
tremble mo\ as. reaching out his hanu, 1
he declared, with unmistakable feeling: I
I have no son. i have no interest left 1
in life, outside this room and the possi- j
i bilities it contains for me Your attach
; merit to my daughter has created a bond
between us. Mr. Brotherson. which I sin-
I cerely hope to see recognized by you ”
I Startled and deeply moved, the young
man stietched out a shaking hand toward
, his visitor, with the feeble but exulting
cry;
[ I ben you do nut blame me fur her 1
t wretched and mysterious death You hold
, me guiltless of the misery which nerxedl
i»er despairing arm '
' Quite guiltless
I uswalii s wan and pinched feature# look
a beautiful expression and Mr. (’hg| '
, longer wondered at his daughter > •
r | . ■»’hanrs G/jn' ' fell from the sick man s I
. os. aim then there was a silem? during!
I | u hi. h their i w<. hands met
To Be Continued in Next Issue.
“Save Your Energy and You Will Preserve Your
*• Beauty,” Declares Pretty Frances Starr
W v Wr'
TjLIROWk t; fixi
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d y' ' ' ' ' G
' CHARMING MISS FRANCES STARR
NOW LEADING WOMAN IN ' < »
jOnjF'' -THE CASE OF BECKY.”
JF <■
By Margaret Hubbard Ayer.
SOMEWHERE way uu high In Lite
tiptop of the Plaza hotel, when the
windows overlook the nark, Miss
1- rances Starr has her winter nest.
Her sittine room looks, less like a
hotel room than any you've ever seen,
for it's small anil of irregular imiid,
and it's done in a subdued kind of yel
low i-oloi and win n you come into it
the first thing Hint strikes vou is the
wonderful view of the nark, and then
you become aware of an excellent grand
piano in the foreground.
There are flowers and books, too. but
mark -you. gentle reader not a single
photograph of the actress herself, and
that’s quite iharacteriatie of Miss
Starr. It s only witli considerable ef
fort that you can get her to talk about
herself. And she just will not tall,
about "M\ 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 Reeky, whose case is so puzzling to
the audience at the Belasco theater, who
can be so sweet ami 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 Start wanted to she could
slip down into some of our social set
tlements. among the pretty young col
lege gil ls, who are endeavoring so va
liantly to work for tile betterment of
those less fortunate, and no one would
ever suspect that she had been on the
stag.- even for a minute.
The better the actress tlie less ae
iressx she looks, and Etances Starr has
earned her tight to a foremost posi
tion among the young stars of the
stage.
"The Ros,, of lite Rancho" has gronh
mon- t boughtful tn look*, more intellec
tual. than when she took Xew Yotk bx
surprise tn the pan of the Spanish girl
fit e y eat s ago.
She looks very young, very slight, and
almost frail, though she is really a
strong athletic type of girl.
Iler hair is a wavv brown, witli
much light in it: het eyes are blue like
the paler sapphite, and she has a deep
and very fascinating cleft in her chin,
ami site is simple, natural and totally
lacking in self-consciousness.
These particulars are put in at the
request of so many readers, who seem
to spend a good deal of their energies
in figuring out whether their favorite
actre-s 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 girl why
she is pretty. One should never ask
that question of a woman under thirty,
anyhow.
"When I am working," said Miss
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Stair. "I 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 of mvs- !
tery which Pierre Loti says is so es- .
sential to woman's charm?" I inquired '
byway of aiding conversation.
"Indeed 1 don't.” Miss Starr put in [
quickly. "But I need quiet and rest
if I’m to do my work properly. It's !
one of the lessons I have had to learn, !
to conserve nty energy for the thing '
tliat 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 advocates i
that seems pure selfishness to me. Be
sides it’s a luxury that few can afford. I
Fancy the girl who has to go up and
down in the subway each day to het
work trying to live up to Piet re Loti’s
ideal of femininity.
"Sometimes- I think the less one
knows about one's favorite authors the
better." said Miss Starr, mourning a
lost illusion.
"Somehow I never think about the
personal side of the applause." said
Miss Starr. "I just feel that I hav<
don- what 1 wanted to and succeeded
in conveying my thoughts to the audi
ence. It is a difficult part, ami 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 the study of psychol
ogy. pathology and all the other ‘‘olo-
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I Advt. I
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gies" which, shed light on intricate
cases of dual personalities like "Becky.”
• Then she found that “Becky" is only
I one of many who. in a less dramatic
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“The Mating of Lydia”
'I liis great new novel is all that the successful name of Mrs. Humphry h
Ward implies. It is an event that makes (rood Housekeeping the leader
among women's magazines because this great story will be the most
talked about and notable serial of the coming year.
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Another Triumph
Mrs. Ward's new work recalls memories of her recent triumphs: '“'l he II
Marriage of William Ashe” “Lady Rose's Daughter." and "Marriage a la
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other successes in this new and fascinating novel involving the life story of
Lydia and Faversham
Lydia Penfold the heroine is a sweet girl of the wholesome type I
heart and fancy free yet fully conscious of the appeal of man to woman.
Then Faversham enters and the developments revolve about the joys and | j
sorrows of a girl’s life particularly in regard to the influence of wealth
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MAGAZINE
* . 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City
Babes From the Woods
By Beatrice Fairfax
HERE are three letters written by
babes who imagine *hey are in
love:
"I ain keeping company with a young
man ot my age. which is seventeen. He
calls on me every night, b".t he does not
show any love to me. What can Ido to
make him show his love?"
"I am sixteen, and in love with a girl
one year my junior. I think she doesn't
pay me the attention she ought to. I
love her. but she has never toid me she
loves me. 1 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 ot
sixteen to keep steady company? Some
people say that at the age of sixteen
children should never think ot the op
posite sex.”
Bo.v and girl love, called ■ alt-love by
those who have survived its attacks
without lasting sears, 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 in
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 arid environ
men:, 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
takes 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 sw’ings too far both
ways. One is uncontrollably happy, or
dangerousi.v depressed 1-ove, never an
offspring of reason, behaves as if of in
sane parentage when those under its
sway are under sixteen.
Time that should he spent in making
, 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 the enin
ment of youthful years, -which
taglements and hasty attach,., J, n '
which cause much distress . . ls '
We do not advise girls to put off
rimony until they are 380 years i/'
which was. I believe, the age O s ,T
daughter of Enoch when she *
that state—but we think thev ,’ o M
consult tneir host Interests in allow!
thoughts of love and marriage to ocr»
py their minds in their ‘salad daw
when they are 'green in judgmen '-
Read this quotation again:
"It prevents the enjoyment of yout> ,
ful years, which Should be free fro '
and ’ eadS ,0 < ‘ n,an K | emenis
and hasty attachments which canse
much distress.”
The writers of these letters, one twe
and thre. will find no argument f avor
ing calf love that can offset this sre>>
ment against it.
So 1 urge the writer of the first > e tter
to make no attempts to get a bov of
sixteen to show his love, but refrain
from showing her own, and try to over
come it.
I want the boy who wrote the second
letter to put as much worn- into h).
lessons at school as he is putting Into a
precocious love, and T want the writer
of the third letter to take the quotation
from Hardy for an answer,
Plenty of Time.
Don’t regard this opportunity tn ipy,
and be loved as the last!
And don’t, if sixteen or twenty-six or
older, look upon the present as all the-e
is of the future. Ix>ve will com- when
you are ready for ft.
And Late Loves even sweeter
I han First Love’s tender dream"
WHY?
He—That young widow seems to aA
mire Mr. Smith very much.
She—Yea; he is a man after her own
heart.
- ...j-
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