Newspaper Page Text
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
One of the Greatest Mystery Stones Ever Written
Freaks of Fashion ^
Paris Styles That Would
Cause a Sensation on Peachtree
THE SIGNS OF LOVE
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
Great Food For Children
You can’t give your children
Faust Spaghetti too often—it
is one of tne few foods that is
extremely nutritious and very
easily digested. It is a rich
gluten food—gluten makes and
develops muscle, bone and
flesh. A 1 Oc package of
FAUST
SPAGHETTI
contains as much nutrition as
4 lbs. of beef—ask your doctor.
In sealed packages. Write for
free recipe book.
At mil grocers’—Se
and 10c packages.
MAULL BROS. St Unis. Mo.
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN.
(Copyright. 1913. by Anno Katharint
Green.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“To G«nevfeve, then, my first words
were regarding my work; but when I
saw that she would never give me this
without her sympathies were in some
way enlisted, I ceased speaking of my
qualifications as a dressmaker and en
tered upon my personal history. I be
gan by telling her that I had a sick
mother and that this mother had an in
consolable grief; that she pined for a
child who did not even know she had
such a mother in existence. And with
this for a text I told the whole story,
with Just an omission of names, watch
ing her face for the dawning realization
which I anticipated seeing there. But
it did not come. She listened patient
ly as she had probably done a hundred
times before, to what she considered a
tale of distress, and not tilT I asked her,
in what I meant to be a significant tone,
whether she knew any young lady in her
own social circle to whom these facts
could apply, did she show the least agi
tation. Then indeed she did turn upon
me and requested me to lift my veil,
and when. I ignored her demand, sat
gazing with something like a wakening
apprehension in her eyes.
"Then I thought the time had come
to speak plainly, and, laying aside all
disguise, I observed simply:
" ‘It is your mother I have been talk
ing about, and it is your sister who is
speaking to you. Pardon me if I have
not broken this gently enough to you.
I am little used to such matters and
the secret will not stay with me. I
can not see my own flesh and blood and
hold back the truth any longer.
“And what did she say? Not what I
expected. Instead of looking stunned,
humiliated or angry, she merely gave
me a steady glance and asked what
proof I had in support of this astound
ing assertion.
" The best in the world,’ I replied,
and tearing off my veil I stood before
her.
* * • * * •
"It was a strange experience, that in
terview. After the first astonishment
and gush of emotion was over, she
showed an unexpected interest in the
situation and questioned me so fully
that my stay became prolonged, and I
grew anxious and prayed her to let me
go. But she was too much interested,
and would know just how we lived, and
whom we had for our friends. Then
we must compare ourselves in the mir
ror, and try on each other’s gloves, and
submit to other tests to show we were
precisely alike. And we found that
though there was an amazing similarity
in details as well as general effect, her
hands were a little smaller and her dim
ples not so pronounced. Our feet, on>fie
contrary, were the same size, and w T hen
she had put upon me one of her hats
that was lying near, I did not know
whether it was she or myself who smiTed
upon me from the glass.
"Meantime it appeared that she was
not so much disturbed by the news as
she was excited by it. She had found
something to interest her she said, and
promised to go and visit her mother the
next day. As for the work I wished
from her I should have it, as it would
give her the best excuse in the world
for visiting me. And so the one sister
became dressmaker to the other, and a
series of visits began, destined to end in
what we least expected at that hour—
desperate tragedy,
"My sister had given no intimation of
risking the inheritance she expected
from her reputed parents by any dis
closure to them of the knowledge which
had been communicated to her; so that
I was in nowise surprised when she ap
peared next day as heavily veiled as 1
had been in visiting her. But what did
astonish me was the eagerness with
which she entered into relations that
must have seemed far from elegant after
her experience with the Gretorex family.
Was it that in my mother’s passionate
embrace she felt a warmth of love that
she had hitherto missed? It may be, but
I ralhfer think it was owing to the in
fluence which Dr. Molesworth’s strange,
sad eyes had updn her even at that
•arly day.
“He was my mother’s physician and
had been in the habit of visiting her
daily. On this day he came as usual,
and receiving no reply to his knock
fancied that my mother was asleep, and
so ooened the door softly and came in.
"The first we knew of his presence
he was before us, and as we had sup
posed the door locked, we were utterly
taken by surprise, and were as we
thought lost, for my sister was without
her veil and I was standing by her
side in a position to bring out the like
ness between us to its fulleet extent.
"But Genevieve, who had most to
lose, showed neither chagrin nor alarm.
Now when the w'hole matter had been
explained, as it presently was by my
mother, did she utter one protest or
seem in any way distressed. She had
looked at the doctor and he had looked
at her, and as the fruit of that look
Genevieve Gretorex became a changed
woman.
"I did not suspect it at first, but
gradually the truth dawned upon me
and I marveled. For not only could
I see nothing in the doctor especially
attractive, but I did see in the pros
pect which her expected marriage open
ed out before her all that a woman’s
heart could desire, were she poor as
myself or rich as my more favored sis
ter.
“For I was often at Mr. Gretorex’s
house now, and in one of my visits I
had seen Dr. Cameron, and though I
was too filled with the idea that he
was the destined bridegroom of my sis
ter to understand the feelings which his
kind eyes and frank smile awakened. I
did not think there was anything more
In the world for Genevieve to aak for,
ind compared more than ever her gay
and glorious existence with the sad and
desolate one promised me by my moth-
»r s rapidly approaching death.
•But she showed no such satisfaction
with her lot, but rather looked with en
vy upon mine, which she called a free
one. And so the days went by and my
mother's end grew near, and finally the
very' day came, and Genevieve did not
know it and could not come if she did.
for others were grouped about that bed,
and we could not both stand there with
out our secret being disclosed.
"Yet I felt that my mother would nev
er die happy without seeing her, and
loving my mother, I took at last a
sudden resolve, and whispemig in her
car that I would fetch her darlihg I left
her with a look of gratitude on her
face, and going by the shortest road to
Mr. Gretorex’s house, happily found my
sister at home. When I proposed that
she should put on my cloak and hat
and thus equipped, go back to my moth
er's side for the blessing there await
ing her, she seized upon the idea' with
avidity and lost no time in carrying out
this plan, though it meant the leaving
of myself in her place.
"She went and met her fate, for the
doctor was in that room of death; and
when all was over—for my mother died
on Genevieve’s breast—he took her to
his heart and told her that he loved
her and asked her to be his wife. Do
not think he did this under any mis
apprehension as ot who she was. He
knew the rich woman from the poor
girl no matter in what garb she was ar
rayed. I ftay rich woman, but I do not
mean that Julius Molesworth was mer
cenary, exactly. He had no great long
ing for money, nor would his love have
faltered if she had come to him com
pletely penniless.
"But what he did feel was the dis
tinction which money had created about
her; the consciousness that she was a
rich man's daughter, and must give up
a lordlv home and surroundings the
most delightful, if she would come to
him. And his pride reveled in this
thought and created a halo about her
till he thought he loved her. and what
was worse, made her think he did.
“For she loved him wholly and with
out any reserve, and^was wretched at
the prospect of keeping her engagement
to Dr. Cameron, and asked me more
than once if I could see any way out
of it. But I could not. The prepara
tions for marriage were being made,
and every ^me looked forward to a
great and splendid wedding. What else
could she do but fulfill the expectations
of people! And yet it all seemed dread
ful; for wit^ a pertinacity that argued
hope, she stnl cherished her interest in
Dr. Molesworth, sending him messages
and keping him. as it were, waiting
for the answer his indecision promised.
At last she told me what the situation
| had suggested to her. Heedless of the
astonishment, the delight, the confu
sion into which her words threw me,
she pointed out the ease with which
matters could be arranged if she were in
my place, and I in hers. And then j
between laughter and earnest, looked |
at me and said:
"I have had my due share of what
you call the pleasures of wealth. Sup
pose you now take yours.’
"It was a thought which at once found
echo in my weak and dissatisfied breast.
The old longings, the old jealousy, the
old sense of having been supplanted in
my rights by a freak of the woman
who chose the infant whom my mother
meant to keep, rushed upon me with re
doubled force; and though I could not
think she would lend herself seriously
to such a scheme, I found myself thrill
ing and blushing as if it had been a
reality I contemplated, instead of some
humorous supposition.
"She noticed this, and laughing with
the first touch of true merriment I had
ever detected in her voice, proposed
that we should experiment a little. So
having interchanged our clothing, we
subjected ourselves to the tests already
described in my sister’s diary, and find
ing them so unexpectedly successful be
gan to consider in real earnest the
question as to whether we might not
interchange positions without danger of
detection.
"The idea once cherished held us
enthralled. Neither could part from it,
and though my risk seemed the greater
I felt within me such a glow of cour
age—you will probably call it presump
tion—that I only asked for the moment
to come when I might throw aside the
garb and habits of poor dreaming Mil
dred Farley forever and be in truth
^hat I hafi so often seen myself in fan
cy, the elegant and gracious lady who
called Mr. and Mrs. Gretorex father and
mother, and would soon call that man
of men, Dr. Cameron, by the still dear
er title of husband. For I may acknowl
edge it now, my whole girlish fancy
was filled with the image of my sister’s
betrothed, though I had only seen him
for a few passing moments. I had that
feeling for him which comes but once
to girl and woman, and though it lacked
depth, as any such mere dream must
do, it possessed that fervor which lends
an ideal glow to the most everyday
experiences. What, then, did it not add
to that prospective moment when un
der every influence calculated to charm
an ambitious nature, I was to make this
sudden leap from poverty to riches, la
bor to ease, and what moved me more
than all the rest, from a state of great
insignificance to a position that would
call forth every latent energy of my
soul.
"My sister was equally in earnest,
but had more apprehension than I. I
consequently studied to keep her spir
its up. and succeeded, especially after I
had had a successful interview with Mr.
and Mrs. Gretorex and Dr. Cameron.
This last, which w r e naturally dreaded
most, had been a real triumph,' and
placed me in a condition of content that
njade all and everything I had to do,
easy.
"You have heard already something
about the final preparations we made. I
will, therefore, add no more to this por
tion of my tale than the assurance that
I never regarded the part I was to play,
lightly. That I knew what would be
required of me and did my utmost to
meet those requirements. That I gave
what time I had td study, and subjected
myself in all regards to my sister’s criti
cism and advice. And when, in pursu
ance of our plan, we stole away to
gether, and taking rooms in a strange
town, poured our souls into one another,
so to speak, it was with the intent on
my part to honor with every grace and
virtue of which I was capable the posi
tion 1 was about to assume.
To Be Continued Monday.
By JOHN JAMESON.
I T was a monument, as large as a
suburban garden, as tall as a fac
tory chimney, covered with vege
tables, fruits and flowers, twigs and
foliage. It was quite a garden, in
deed, and only needed -a table and a
few chairs to make the resemblance
perfect. It had cost its weight m
gold. It was the most magnificent
hat in the world.
Etienne had been waiting for it ill
morning, impatient and feverish. She
was going on a visit to the Males-
troux! Immensely rich people, and
Etienne did not want to be less styl
ishly dressed than their daughter.
And at last the hat came In an enor
mous box, which it was almost im
possible to get through the door. And
now Etienne was standing in front of
her mirror, her Ups pressed tightly
together, and tried to put It on right.
At last she was satisfied and fas
tened it with two enormous hatpins
as long as foils.
"Do you think it look® chic?’’ she
asked her mother, who came in ju3t
then.
"Yes—but don’t you think It Just a
little too large?’’
"Why, mother, you won’t call that
a large hat; It is just medium sized.
Besides, large hats are the only ones
that are becoming to me."
"Well, I suppose you ought to
know,” said Mme. Laurier. “But hur
ry up, now, dear. It Is nearly 5
and we must not keep them waiting."
When they got down to the car
riage, it was found that it was neces
sary to open it, as Etienne could not
possibly get through the door.
"It must be a large hat, you must
admit, Etienne, when you can not get
into a carriage with it,” said Mm \
Laurier.
"Oh. you do not know what you are
talking about, mother. It the latest
style and everybody will tell you so.”
"Everybody? Hardly I I know at
least one who will not like it, I am
sure.”
"Who?”
"Koger.”
"Of course, he won’t. He always
has unpleasant things to say about
everything.’’
Roger Marcy was a childhood
friend of Etienne’s. They had always
been together. But lately they were
both inclined to say unpleasant
things whenever they met, and Mme.
Laurier. tCho had always hoped they
would marry, had quite given up all
hope of it now.
Her prophecy proved correct. As
soon as they had arrived at Males-
troux’si Etienne found herself face to
face with Roger, who exclaimed:
"Milles tonnerres! What an enor
mous hat. Doesn't it make you feel
as if you were in the country? Quite
a pleasant sensation, I am sure, when
you are in Paris in midwinter.”
"Don’t you think it Is chic and
stylish?”
"Awful! It is monstrous.’’
"But I can’t wear anything but
large hats."
. "I never met anyone else who
thinks so.”
"But I won’t wear any other kirid.”
“Are you quite sure?”
Etienne did. not mind that Roger
criticised her ideas, plans and actions,
or even her taste in literature, but
that he should criticise her taste in
dressing hurt her vanity.
“I tell you, I shall never wear any
other kind of hats,” she said, and
stamped her foot, "and you last of all
are able to make me change my
taste.”
"Just wait and see,” he said. "I ;
will bet you anything you like that
some day I shall make you wear a
pretty little hat.”
"Is It a bet?”
"Yes.”
"Good. I accept."
The two young people parted with
out saying good-bye.
Usually Roger was not affected by
anything, but to-day his heart was
beating like a trip hammer when he
went to see Etienne, with whom he
had not exchanged a word since they
parted, two months before.
He was sorry that he had annoyed
her. Why did it amuse him to be un
pleasant to her? She was beautiful,
charming and bright. And he knew
vf/ry well that he could not do with
out her. He racked his brain to find
a way to make up with her, and when
he thought he had found one he went
to a florist’s and bought a bouquet
of flowers.
He hud been waiting five minutes
when Etienne came in.
“Why, I had no idea it was you.
How nice of you to come to see us."
She, too, had come to the same re
sult and was anxious to make up,
and her little heart went thumping
when she saw him.
"I have come to have a serious talk
with you, Etienne.”
"Really?”
"Yes, and I may as well admit that
I do not know how to begin. When
two people have known each other
as long as we have there are things
that are very difficult to say. You
are ftfraid they will not be taken se
riously. Will vou promise not to
laugh at me, Etienne?"
"That I will, Roger.”
"Then, listen! I love you, IStienne.
love you with all the strength of my
heart and I want you to be even
CHICHESTER S PILLS
1IIK DIAMOND HKANB.
Ls4Im( Ask 7«ui “
< hUket-lcr’i IMi
Tills In R»4 and
l>o*-s, sealed with
Take no other. Huy or joai
BriSflat. Avk for CIM-< 'll;KB-TFRU
piaVond khaki* nuVr,;“ &
years k nown as Best, Safest. A1 ways Reliabls
SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHERE
These pictures represent the
latest fads, fancies and freaks of
the Paris imagination run riot.
Every one is just enough over
done to be impossible for the
woman of refined good taste—
and yet a little less over-orna
mentation and over-accentua
tion might easily remove them
from the freak class to the smart
and chic order, thereby making
them possible on any American
street.
The first figure is an outgrowth
of the lampshade overskirt: from
a hip yoke that ends in a' broad
tuck there are two six-inch ac
cordion plaitings that stand out
about the knee like a little child’s
starched petticoats. Narrow
black moire ribbon starts under
the Eton collar and ties in with
the front bow of the girdle sash.
Figure 2 has a “weskit”
coatee and under panel in the
slit skirt developed in flowered
chintz. The little vest and un
dersleeves of moussline add a
dainty touch to a costume that
becomes too daringly large
through the suggestive line and
arrangement of the underskirt.
The girl of Figure 3, with her
broad caped military coat caught
loosely about her, wears one of
the new Spanish sailors tip-tilted
a bit too much. But for the
woman of clear-cut features and
sense enough to wear her hat on
her head instead of her right ear,
the Spanish sailor offers a very
attractive solution of the outing
hat problem.
Figure 4 wears one of the very
objectionable new “Botticelli”
figure dresses. It is of white net
heavily embroidered in Colbert
work and made over a charmeuse
foundation. Both skirt and
waist-line are slightly elevated
in front, and the result is the
new slouch figure on exagger
ated lines. The wide girdle of
cherry satin widens at one side
to meet the V-neck with cross
set rows of tulle, as a finish at
the throat.
—Ohl VETTJS.
more than a friend t*> me. I want
you to be my wife, Etienne.”
She did not answer. He took her
silence to mean a refusal and said:
"I see, then, that you do not love
me.”
"You are mistaken,” she said hotly.
“I love you, too, but that knowledge
has come to me so suddenly, as if a
veil in front of my eyes had sudden
ly been torn asunder.”
"Then you will accept my little
bouquet ?”
She opened the tissue paper.
"You see what flowers those are.
Just a few orange blossoms to put
in your hair—the smallest but also
the prettiest hat in all the world.
Will you wear It?”
Etienne’s eyes beamed as she
replied:
"1 will wear it, Roger, on aur
wedding day.”
Woman
Every
Is Interacted aad should
know about the wonderful
Marvel
Douche
Ask roerdrnreiet for
if he oannot sup
ply the MARVEL,
accept no other, but
Bend stamp for book.
lteuL£ktiAiaiiUI.L
“The moods of love are like the
wind;
“Ami none know whenee or why
they rise.**
—COVENTRY PATMORE.
j 4 Y f >w,” writes some lover ev-
ery day in the week, “can I
tell if she loves me?”
"He Is very nice to me and wants
to be with me every evening, but he
never says a word about love,” writes
some distressed little girl. "How
can I tell if he loves me? What are
the signs of love?”
They are as varied and interesting
and uncertain as the signs of a storm
or a fair day, and no one can de
scribe the symptoms in one man’s
case that will apply to the symptoms
in another.
Love is not like the measles.
"Love,” rhymes Pakenham Beatty,
"comes to some with smiling eyes
and comes with tears to some; for
some Love sings, for some Love sighs,
for some Love’s lips are dumb."
Two persons will stand before a
wonderful scene. One will burst into
exclamations of pleasure and admira
tion, exhausting his vocabulary and
growing almost maudlin in his at
tempt to express his delight. The
other will stand dumb with awe at
the miracle, yet no one may say
that his admiration is less than his
noisy neighbor’s. ^
Some Signs.
It is the same with Love. Some
laugh from morning till night, and
pass into dreamland with smiles on
their faces, and others seern almost
paralyzed through awe of this great
wonder that life has brought them.
And there are others who will agree
with John P. Brown, who wrote: "The
sign of those who are tormented by
Love’s passion is tears; above ali,
of that lover who finds none to sym
pathize with him.”
If there are any who imagine that
the dimensions and capacity of the
heart may be measured as one meas
ures the capacity and dimensions of
a cistern, let him learn to the con
trary from as great an authority on
Love as Marie Corelli:
"Facts and figures,” she writes,
"can to a certain extent he relied on.
but the fluctuating humors and
vagaries of a man and woman in
love wdth each other are beyond the
most precise calculations of the
skilled mathematician. For it often
happens that when they seem to ba
coldest, they are warmest—and cases
have been known where they have
taken the greatest pains to avoid
each other at a time when they have
most deeply longed to be together.”
The Perverse Imp.
Sometimes witn the perversity ot
the human heart, which no one can
explain or account for, girls and boys
assume their w r orst behavior, and are
In their most unattractive moQds,
when in the presence of those they
long to attract. It is as if they put
on a garment the seamy side oul
w'hen the occasion calls for the finest
apparel.
The girl who knows the man she
loves abominates slang will use more
when he is present than on any other
occasion. Men are rudest when gen
tleness is the trait their lady love*
admire most. Loudest when sllencs
is more appealing and pugnacious
when the little girl whose favor they
seek is a lover of peaee.
So one may not define this tender
passion as if it were as tangible as a
spring hat or a rock wall, nor at
tempt to describe It. The glorious
characteristic of love and its univer
sal trait Is that somewhere, some
how, it finds expression at last. It
may be strangely dumb In the be
ginning, so dumb the little heart that
waits for its avowal begins to ache,
but the dumbest love breaks silence
at last, and when the time comes the
Joy more than compensates for the
waiting.
To be sure that it is love, the lore
for life, and not the little Imp which
masquerades as love, and which has
its origin more In a fervid Imagina
tion than In the heart, apply to the
sentiment that is crowding every
other emotion out of your being, this
test poem by Elizabeth Barrett
Browning:
“Unless you ean think, when th« song
is done.
No other is soft in the rhythm;
Unless you rani feel, when left by
One,
That all men else go with him;
Unless you t an know, when upraised
by his breath,
That your beauty itself wants
proving;
Unless you can swear, ‘For life, or
death /*—
Oh, fear to call it loving ”
The saintly poet, George Herbert had
an impatient temper to begin with,
but conquered it so completely that
no one suspected his early fault.
People may say that these exam
ples are too high for every day fol
lowing. but do we not all know from
personal experience of some one
among our own friends or dear ones
who has achieved a sunny heart by
conquest In spite of fiery ordeals,
vexations and sorrows; some one
whose smile and cheerful words and
voice made "sunshine In a shady
place?” It may be claimed that this
achievement comes only to mature
persons. Young persons say "it isn’t
easy to look at life that way. We
want to enjoy ourselves. We can’t
be bothered being helpful and use
ful. We have too many worries. We
want things and can’t get thepn. ’
Well, what is gained by being discon
tented, selfish and growing hard and
cold? What is gained in even doing
kindnesses grudgingly instead of lov
ingly?
A young girl is in my mind whose
delicate health, vicissitudes of for
tune, discouragements and disap
pointments never daunted her brave,
wholesome spirit. Some one said to
her, "when she entered a room her
coming was a ray of sunshine.”
Something in her winning manner,
her voice, her presence, her loving
heart, diffused a happy influence and
won for her the affection of every
one.
This bright warm sunshine of the
heart is within the reach of all. This
element of joyfulness Is well w’orth
cultivating.
Jean Ingelow writes of it:
Take Joy home
And make a place in thy great heart
for her,
And give her time to grow and cher
ish her!
Then will she come and often sing
to thee.
By MRS. FRANK LEARNED.
Author of "Etiquette In New York To
day.”
A SECRET in life worth discov
ering is how to achieve a sun
ny temper. Many persons will
say that a sunny temper is a gift,
a temperament, a natural endow
ment. There are persons who are
born with it. Strange to say, they
have not always the influence of those
who have achieved it by the con
quest of irritability, selfishness, ego
tism, or by a determination to see
the sunshine or the clear blue of the
sky in spite of clouds casting shad
ows.
We know that sunshine iS\ an ex
cellent tonic, and that we are/able to
do better work in less time when in
vigorated by fresh air and sunshine.
We are apt to forget that there is a
sunshine that is independent of the
weather, and we can cultivate living
in it for our own Joy and the hap
piness of others. It Is the sunshine
of a cheerful spirit. Everything is
made easier by it ana every one who
comes under its influence is helped.
Sunshine gi<res color and beauty to
the world, health and joy to all living
things, and it kills disease germs. The
sullen morose, pessimistic person is
truly to be pitied in suffering from
the disease germs of bad temper,
selfishness, moods, grievances, de
pressed spirits and a habit of carry
ing worries into social life.
Very many instances might be
given to those who have been of
greatest use and influence through
achieving a sunny temper. St. Paul
w'as naturally Irritable and sharp of
speech, but he learned to feel the
deepest joy and to give joy. Con
stantly in his waitings we find the
word "joy.” St. Francis of Assisi
charmed a rude age by the bright
ness and kindness of his character.
The Most Beautiful Hat Extant
A Love Story About Feminine Headgear
A Sunny Temper
KODAKS
TIm Blit —4 •stam
ina That Oan ft* Sratf
Eaobnan Filina and 'on-
Plata atocti irautur auppllm.
„ .tea for out-of-town ''uatrunara.
Send for Catalog and Prloo Lfot.
A. K. HAWKES CO. K D °°A*
u Whit«h«u at.. Atlanta. Go,