Newspaper Page Text
THE GEOSGIAW’S MAGAZIME PAGE
‘lflltlQjs Only v By Anna Katherine Green
A Thrtliiny Mystery Story of Modern Times
(Copyright. 1511. Street a Smith >
(Copyright, 1911, by Dodd. M ad A Co )
TODAY'S INSTALLMENT.
“It 1« true. Other men have followed!
just such unworth> impulses and been
ashamed and sorry afterwards 1 was
sorry and I was ashamed, and as soon as
my first angn ua« over went to tell her
so Rut she ni Monk ni> purpose and
“ \nd wha i
orlando h»»•! l-lven ! ,s iron nature
trembled before H e inferr he saw a
misery he was destined to augment rath
er than soothe With pains altogether out
of keeping will: his character, he sought
in the recesses of his darkened mind for
words less bitter and less abrupt than
those whS h sprang involuntarily to his
lips But 1 e did not find them 'Though
he pitied his brother and wished to show
that he did. nothing but the stern lan
Kuage suitable to the Stern fact he wished
to impat ■ would leave his lips
And ended ;he pitiful struggle of the
moment •». u one • ? i.n ' unpremeditated
blow ” w.l« w hat he said "There is no
othet explanation possible for this act.
Oswald Bitter as it is for me to ac
knowledge it. I am thus fa; guilty of this
beloved woman s death But as God
beats me. from the moment I first saw
her. to the moment I saw her last. I did
not know, nor <Vd I for a moment dream
that she was anything to you or to any
other man of my stamp and station 1
thought she despised my country birth,
my mt< hanieal attempts, my lack of aris
tocratfc pretensions and traditions
“Fd-th?”
b that I know she l ad other rea
sons for her contempt that the words
she v rote were in rebuke to the brother
»athei than to the man, I fee! ms guilt
and deplore n \ anger. I can not say
more. 1 should but insult your grief by
any length? expressions of regret and
A grun • f intolerable angu sh from the
sick man s I’ps. and then the quick thrust
< f his reawakened intelligence rising su
perior to the overthrow of all his hopes.
“For a woman of Edith s principle to
seekdeath in a moment of desperation,
the !•••<.vocation must ha\e been very
great 'Tell me If Ini to hate vou through
life . (.< through all eternit? or if I must
seek i some unimaginable failure of my
own t\,«iactor or conduct the cause of
her intolerable despair.”
"Oswald!* The torn was controlling,
and yet tlai of one strong man to an
other "Is it for us to read t, henrt -of
any Woman, least of all <»f a woman of h»
susceptibilities and keen Tfcner life ? The
wish io end all conies to sou e natures
like a lightning flash Hom a. clear sl \ li
comes, it goes, often without leaving a
sign. But if a weapon chain ts to be neai
there it was In hand) —then deatn 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 realise it as
such and a< cept our sorrow as a mutual
burden and turn to what remains to us
of life and labor Work is grief's only
consolation. 'Then let us work.”
But of all this Oswald had caught but
the one word
"Chance? ’ he repeated. “Orlando, I be
lieve In God
‘Then seek your comfort there I find
it 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 h was broken, w hen it
was broken, by a cry from Oswald:
‘No more.” said he. "no more ’ Then,
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. But another
look, at Oswald and he was ready to do
his p'dding 'The bit lot ordeal was over:
let him have his solace if it was in her
power to give it to him
Orlando, upon leaving his brothers
roouj. did not stop to deliver that broth
er’s 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 ra /uly taking on shape and assum
ing that individuality and appearance of
sentient life which hitherto he had only
seen in divnms But his eye. which had
lever failed to kindle at this sight be
f’ re.- shone dully in the semi-gloom. The
i (ai co Id wait, he would first have
i ' hour *n iios solitude of his own mak
’ :. The gaz» b.e dreaded, the words
i rm w t ’ 1 i > d”;<nk could not penetrate
1 ere. lif n ight even shout her name
aloud, .u;u only these windowless walls
would respond. lie was alone with his
i ast, ! j s present and his futun
Alone! ’
He n<t (.- (l io be ’The. strongest
-aun- when the precipice yawns before
him. TJie gulf can be spanned; he feels
hims'l- forceful enough for that, but his
‘•yes must take theh measurement of it i
first: 1 c must know its depths ami possl- i
hie clange;- only a fool would ignore!
'lies* steeps* of Jagged rock; ai.u he was!
s.u fool. ‘ only a mail to whom 'he unex
pected had happened, a man who had
eeeu his way c Ir.-.t- to the horizon and |
then ad come up against this! . it, i
... .
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when ne thought such folly dead: Re
morse. when Glory .ailed for the quiet
mind and heart'
He recognized its mordant fang, an.i
* .new that its ravages, though onlv just
I begun, would last hi® lifetime Nothing
I "mid stop them now. nothing, nothing
\nd 1 e laughed, as the thought went
home laughed at the irony of fate and
Its inexorableness; laughed at his own
defeat and his nearness to a barred Para
dise Oswald loved Edith, loved her .vet,
with a flame time would take long to
quench Doris loved Oswald and he
Doris: and not one of them would ever
attain the delights each was so fitted to
enjoy Why shouldn't he laugh? What
is left to man but mockery when all props
fall'' Disappointment was the universal
lot and II should go merrily with him if
he must take his turn at it. But here
the strong spirit of the man reasserted
Itself: it should be but a turn. A man's
joys are not bounded by his lores or even
by the satisfaction of n perfectly untram
meled mind Performance makes a world
of its own for the capable and the strong,
and this was still left, to him He. Or
lando Brothers..!!, despair while his great
work lay unfinished! That would be to
lay stress on the inevitable pains and
fears of commonplace humanity. Il> was
not of tliat ilk Intellect was his god: am
bition bls motive power. What would
this casual blight upon his supreme con
tentment be to him. when with the wings
of bis air car spread, he should spurn the
earth and soar into the heaven of fame
simultaneously with bis flight into the
open.
He could wail for that hour. He had
measured the gulf before him and found
it passable Henceforth no looking bark.
Rising, he stood for a moment gazing,
with an alert eye now. upon such sections
of bis. ear as had not yet been fitted into
their places; then he bent forward to his
work, and soon the lips which had ut
tered that sardonic laugh a few minute®
before, parted in gentler fashion, and song
took the place of curses—a ballad of love
and fondest truth. But Orlando never
knew what he sang He had the gift and
used it.
Would bls tones, however, have rung
out w ith quite so mellow a sweetness had
be seen the restless figure even then cir
cling Ills retreat with eyes darling accu
sation and arms lifted towards him in
wild but impotent threat?
Yes. I think they would; for he knew
Unit the man who thus expressed his
helplessness along with bis convictions,
was no nearer the end he had set himself
Io attain than on the day he first be
trayed his suspicions.
The Hut Changes its Name.
That night Oswald was taken very ill.
hot 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.
lie had been conscious for a week or
more of his surroundings, and of his bit
ter sorrows as well, when one morning
he asked Doris whose face it was be had
seen bending over him so often during
the last week: "Have you a new doctor?
A man with white hair and a comforting
smile? Or 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
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 And yet. it's not al
together strange. Who is this man and
why should be 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 lias 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 Challoner 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'.' lie is waiting to come in. Not to
talk. You need not fear his talking. He’s
as quiet as any man 1 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 the pressed too suddenly and too
hard on the ever-gaping wound in her
invalid's breast? She gasped in terror at
the 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 1 have just
put you 1 should rest easier and get
I well faster or not get well at all."
This latter he half whispered, and Dor
' is. tripping from the room, may not have
I heard it. for her face showed no fur
ther shadow as she ushered in Mr. t'lial
| loner, and closed the door behind him
I She had looked forward to his moment
' lor days To Oswald, however. It was an
! unexpected excitement and his voice
I trembled with something more than phy
; s: ai weakness as be greeted his visitor
and thanked him for bis attentions
' Doris says tha* you have shown me
bis klnuness from the desire you have to
, set me well again. Mr (.'ballonet Is this
I true.?”
"Very true I van not emphasize the
I fact too strongly."
Oswald's eyes met his again, this lime
i v. th great earnestness.
"You must have serious reasons for fee'.-
I Ing so reasons which I do not quite tin-
I net-stand May 1 ask you why you place
I such value upon a life which, if ever use
fill to itself or others, has lost and lest
forever, the one de', gb which gate ”
meaning '
B wa® f q, Chaiioner s voice I"
I tremble now at rea hing out ; hanu,
I I he levlared. with inmistakable feeling
"I have no son I have no interest let’
l|m life, outside this room and the possi
bilities ' contain® for me Your attach-
I i went ~ my daughter has created a bond
, I betwe--’; ts Mr Brotherson. which I sin-
I cerely i. q i io see recognized by you '
t Startled and deeply moved, the young
, man stret< bed out a shaking hand toward
_ les v!®- we the feeble but exulting
cry
[ Iler, you do r.ol blan <■ for her
Jw i. i.v- at.c my sierious death You hold
. ine gull'., ®' of ti e misery which nerved
lie; despairing arm'.'
( i Quite guiltless
nswald's wan and pirn lied features took
l " expression and Ml Cha
"i.e no longer wondered ai his daughter's
i» iltlK 0
5 I • ; r . ‘.sOri 'pi; H'om irk man
I - ar? llien iben was a alien, c .luring
j wii > i rbeir two hands n.ei
To B< Cont.nusd in Ne*t Is»u».,
“Save Your Energy and You Will Preserve Your *
* t. Beauty,” Declares Pretty Frances Starr
i 2
- ■ —■ • - —• ■ —. ———— x * /TSTi
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JIM® Wj!
ft 3 ‘
< LkiT
. 70 . fjy
t CHARMING MISS FRANCES STARR. '<> z
NOW LEADING WOMAN IN
"THE CASE OF BECKY.” '
<< o
By Margaret Hubbard Ayer.
I
SOMEWHERE way tin high in the
tiptop of the Plaza hotel, where the
windows overlook the nark. Miss
I Frances Starr has her winter nest.
Her sittina room looks, less like a
, I hotel loom than any you've ever seen,
• for it's small and of irregulat build,
; and it’s done in a subdued kind of yel
low odor and when you come into it
the first thine that strikes vou is the
wonderful tiew of the. nark, and then
you become aware of an excellent grand
piano in the foreground.
There ate flowers and books, too. but
mark yon. srentle leader not a single
I photograph of the actress herself, and
that's quite characteristic of Miss
Starr. It's only with considerable ef
fort that you can get her to talk about
herself. Ami she just will not talk
about "My art!”
What does she look like off tlie stage'.’
What is tlie Rose of the Rancho like,
and the girl who took the Easiest Way,
and Becky , witose 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 <*at.
with hardly a point of resemblance to
tlie first character?
If Miss Starr wanted to she tould
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 even for a minute.
The better the actress the less ac- i
tressy she looks, and Frances Starr has j
earned her right to a foremost posi- l
I tion among the young stars of the
i stage.
"Tlie Rose of the Rancho" has grown
more thoughtful in looks, more intellec
tual. than when she took New York by
surprise in the part of the Spanish girl
five years ago
She looks very young, yery slight, and
almost frail, though she is really a
strong, athletic type of girl.
Her hair is a wavv brown, with
much ligitt in it; her eyes are blue like
the paler sapphire, and she has a deep
and very fascinating cleft In her chin,
and she is simple, natural and totally I
lacking in self-consciousness.
These particulars ate 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
actress looks the same off the stage as
she does on.
| Os course. I had to ask Miss Start
1 , "'bat rules of health she observes. It's
i quite useless to ask a pretty girl why
l she is pretty. One should never ask
■ j that question of a woman under thirty,
I any how.
“When I am working,” said Miss
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Starr, "I simply devote all my time I
and energy to that Beyond a short
walk every day, I do nothing which
could deplete my store of energy. 1 i
really don't understand how women
can rut) about all day. and give out so 1
much vitality as they do. and have;
any thing left for their work. I'm sure j
I can't.”
"Do you cultivate that air of mys- !
tery which Pierre Loti says is so es- i
sential to woman's charm?" I inquired,
byway of aiding conversation.
"Indeed I don't," Aliss Stall' put in
quickly'. "But I 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 1
that is worth while—work.
"Seeing too many people, even being '
In <i crowded place, is exhausting, but 1
as far as rhe idea of shrouding one's ;
seif in mystery which Loti advocates
that seems pure selfishness to me. Be
sides it's a luxury that few can afford.
Fancy the girl who has to go up and
down in the subway each day to her
work trying to live up to Pierre Loti’s
ideal of femininity.
"Sometimes I think the- less one
knows about one's favorite authors the
better,” said Miss Stair, mourning a
lost illusion.
“Somehow I never think about the
personal side of the applause.” said
Miss Starr. "I just feel that I have
done what I 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 Stair
went deeply into the study of psychol
ogy. pathology and all the other "010-
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! 'Y
I gies" which shed light on intricate
'cases of dual personalities like "Becky."
. Then she found that "Becky" is only
lone of many who. in a less dramatic
I way. have suffered from some early
I shock or ifiental suggestion and have
] later on joined the great army of delin
! quents, feeble-minded or criminal young
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“The Mating of Lydia”
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Lydia and Faversham |
Lydia Penfold the heroine is a sweet girl of the wholesome type
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' a* au N eu}ss t an d s
i November Issue —Just Out
WlliSsß G°°d Housekeeping
'• Ifflßw MAGAZINE
381 Fourth Avenue, New York City
U MV ,
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lIL 11 iUlnli
Babes From the Woods
By Beatrice Fairfax
HERE are three letters written by
babes who imagine "hey are in
1 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 Ido to
I make him show his love?”
"1 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
i 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
I people say that at the age of sixteen
I children should never think of the op
i posite sex."
Boy and girl love, called calf-love by
j those who have survived its attacks
without lasting sears, may develop into
i something fine, but every chance in the
j world is against it.
In Love With Love.
in the first place, children of that age.
don't know their own minds. They are
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 lomantic brain
i< attached to some other person. In
deed, given opportunity and 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 swings too far. botli
ways. One is uncontrollably happy, of
dangerously depress Al Love, never an
offspring of reason, behaves as if of in
sane parentage wh?n those under' its
sway are under sixteen
Time that should be 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 biain 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—ls 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. .1,
Hardy, who says:
"Preeoeiousness in love-making is a
great mistake. It prevents the 0,,i
rnent of youthful years whTb u
be free from anxiety, and h-ads
taglements and hasty atta v! „X
which cause much distre®® ® , '
We do not advise girls to put off m ..’
rimony -until they are 380 y ca
which was. I believe, the age
daughter of Enoch when she . m ,
that state—but we think thev p/ '
consult their best interests in M’n„i
thoughts of love and marriage p," nt .‘7
py their minds in their 'salad d Rv
when they are ‘green in j u d gmen .‘.?'
Read this quotation again:
"It prevents the enjoyment of corth
ful years, which should be free T „
anxiety, and leads to entanglement"
and hasty attachments which
much distress.”
The writers of th-se letters, one- two
and three, will find no argument fm 0 .-
Ing calf love that can offset this are ,.
inent against it.
So I urge the writer of the fl r , t „ lt
to make no attempts to get a box of
sixteen to show his love, but refra
from showing her own. anti try to „v e ."
come it.
I want the boy who wrote the ®e, ~r >
letter to put as much wm-rv into
lessons a’ school as he Is putting into a
precocious love, and I want the „-H f . r
of the third letter to take the quotation
from Hardy for an answer.
Plenty of Time.
Don t regard this opportunity tn
and be loved as the last!
And don't, if sixteen or twenty-six or
older, look upon the present as all thers
is of the future. Love will come when
you are ready for it.
And Late Love’s even sweete
Than First Love's tender dream "
WHY?
He—That young widow seem® to ad
mire Mr. Smith very much
She—Yes: he is a man after her own
heart.
Thousands of Grateful Letters
from women in all pails of the I'nlt
ed States and Canada who have been
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writer.
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herself to give Lydia E. Pinkham's
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