Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, January 15, 1917, Page 2

OO ee Sms — RP Se OY EE Lym s? MRS RUPERT HUGHES Novelized From the of the Same Name Copyright, 1916, by SYNOPSIS, | ont Stafford, banker Glorta ts a viva lady who at night and in surf where nt lost in the hands of the B Ling rglades she falis into the falls in love Five years meets Frenea tion having be in-law, he has feels that her o' Later Frene tor Royce dis » aseist in thwart- FIFTH EPISODE The Gathering Storm. harges, | The Daughters are Pierpont,” salu Jud two elderly men stoc the dance which was in swing at the coming-out party of Gloria Staf- ford. Then related to each other by e marriage of Stafford’s son and Freeman's daughter Lois—whatever relations | that made them Pierpont Stafford nodded a worried assent to the judge's statement and, turning his eyes reitictantly from the grace and charm of his own girl, who was dancing with an almost ly po- etry of motion, enfolded iu the arms of Richard Freneau, Pierpont looked for Judge Freeman's £ , Lois, to find a specific cause for the judge's dole- ful remark What he puzzled him considerably. He saw Lois, not dancing, but watching Gloria and Fre neau, Thera was a look of unmistak able jealous and helpless rage on her face Hie saw his son David speak to her and put his hand on her arm, only to have her shake him off and move away into the crowd, Pierpont felt suddenly terribly afraid for his son's honor, and a gnaw- ire ache in his heart for Lois’ fa- ther, who stood beside him. But it waa far too delicate a situation for the two men to discuss—yet. “Children are hostages of fortune, as Bacon, the playwright, said,” Pier- pont murmured, putting his hand on the other man's arm. “After all, how little it is we can really save them from!” Gloria was being watched jealous- ly by yet another, Doctor Royce, who, with the mixed feelings of a lover saw | | See x BS Her Ears Still Tingled With the Buzz of Compliments, and an older guardian, felt cut to the quick as she passed directly in front of him in Freneau’s embrace, He could see the look of perfect joy in her glorious eyes, and there was rap- ture in the whole happy swing of her youthful body. Motion Picture Play by George Kleine Adelaide M. Hughes most choked him. When another man took Gloria away from Freneau for the last half of the dance, and Freneau reluctantly walked Royce asked away, for a word with him, j moving toward the library, where they could fe alone. Freneau followed with uneasy bravado. Once safe from observation, Doctor Royce let his rage break forth = “You contemptible fortune hunter! away from Gloria. You Med to her then and your life is still one long lie.” Freneau's face blanched with fury, and he raised_his arm to strike Royce, but before the calm contempt in his eves he changed his mind. He de- | cided to forego the blow for the pres- ent, and could, alarmine threat. “What if I tell her of your affair laughed as bravely as he | with a certain married woma Freneau gave a surprised start, at- tempted to speak, changed his mind again. He was guilty of too much to risk a challenge Shrugging his shoulders, he moved sullenly off and out of the room, Royce smiled to himself. “It was a bluff, but it worked.” He had caught @ glimpse of Lois’ Jealousy and a faint suspicion had risen in his mind Now ho wondered if it were confirmed Royce walked after Freneau and had the satisfaction of seeing him de part after bidding good-by to Gloria Royce thought he had won a nal victory He would have taken lit tla pl e in it had he known that tly because od him a be spent in her Freneau left so obed Gloria had already whole afternoon to could afford the seeming compliance with the order of Doctor Royce. As he descended the outer steps of the Stafford home a footman sig- naled his car to put into the drive- way. A tramp who had been lolter- ing on the street watching the gor- geous crowd of guests, caught sight vf Freneau and seemed to go mad with rage. He rushed forward, shout- ing accusations. Freneau struck out viciously with his walking stick. The tramp fell to the ground, while Fre- neau, leaping into his limousine, mo- tioned his chauffeur to make haste. He leaned out of his car as it turned and smiled to see the tramp pick him- self up awkwardly and run after him, rushing’ wildly through the traffic of Riverside drivo. As Freneau's car turned into a side street the tramp, still in pursuit, was caught by an oncoming automobile and knocked sideways. One of the rear wheels passed over his legs. The car was stopped instantly and tho occupants picked him up to hurry him to a hospital. Freneau sat back in a daze at the quick tragedy. He could not tell how j badly the man was hurt nor how | much he could depend on his own re- lease from danger in that quarter. It ruffled him considerably to encoun- | ter another relic of his adventurous | past, just as he was about to win a beautiful young wife for himself; a relic who had a just grievance and | might well ruin him by exposure. To get out of his entanglement with Lois was delicate matter enough for him to handle without thig new ghost. Truly, Freneau brooded, a brave, | pleasure-loving free lance like himself }should have a wider fleld to move | about in. The smallness of this world | was cramping his style! j | j Arriving at his own apartment he | | threw his overcoat to his valet and marthed gloomily into the living room, slamming the door behind him. If only Trask should die! But he could not count on such luck. Trask would probably escape with a few bruises and an added grudge, and be out again in a few days to pick up the trail. A vision came to Freneau’s mind of Nell Trask, as he had last seen her, when he left her beside a stream near a mining camp in the South. Poor fool! She had pleaded so un- reasonably that he should marry her and save her. When he refused she had thrown herself down on the bank in wild abandonment to her grief. As he mounted his horse he saw the girl's father pick her wp and hold her in his arms while apparently she sob- bed forth her confession. A look of such savage ferocity came over Trask’s face that Freneau dug spurs into his horse. On reaching the town he had boarded a train at once, leaving his few belongings behind him. For that look on Trask’s face. surely meant death for him if he were overtaken, And now at last he had been over- Anger at Freneau’s | taken. emwortbiness of this pure being al Soon, however, Frentes broke from Royce pursued him with an / company alone on the following day. Vreneau felt so certain of his ability | to win a promise of marriage from her with this opportunity that he | hus reverie, dismissed it as an unpleas- ant memory, smiled at himself for giv- ing ft any place in his thoughts, and terned hie mind to Gloria—the be witching girl-woman to whom on the morrow he would tender his heart land band, for all that they might be worth. Meanwhile Gloria herself, tired be- yond words, her pretty right hand stiff from the endless shaking of other hands at her reception, her tiny feet weary of their satin slippers and her ears tingling still with the buzz of compliments poured into them, was ecstatic as a full-fledged birdling after its first long flight. The last of the guests departing, she threw her arms about her father’s neck and gave him a resounding kiss. Swinging her feet free of the floor, she kicked off her slippers. Then she hugged Aunt Hortensia and thanked her, and, please did she and father mind if the new social leader left them and betook herself to bed, where they might send her crackers and mik for her dinner before she toppled off to sleep? They laughed through their own weariness as Gloria, gathering up her castaway footwear, proceeded to drag herself up the staircase, bent far over in imitation of an ancient cripple. Reaching her own room, she screamed lustily to Burroughs, her Erglish maid, to run a hot bat jor j her, and for goodness sake to get her out of her wreck of dress. As Bur- roughs fluttered between the two tesks Gloria hummed the “Aloha Oe” that had been played in waltz time to her last heavenly dance with Fre- neau. She picked a rose from her dressing table and went through the ritual of “He loves me, he loves me not,” down almost to the last petal. But finding that it would come out on the tragic “not,” she gasped, “How silly!” threw the rose away, casting a shy little smile at herself,in the mirror. Burroughs, having taken the woe fully wilted and shredded tulle frock ! from her, wrapped her young mis- tress in a dressing gown. And Gloria went, still humming, to her bath. In the midst of the splashing, while Burroughs was straightening the dressing room, she heard: “O Bur- roughs, do you think my new fur-lined driving coat looks very good on me?” “Yes, miss. I do, indeed,” answered Burroughs, surprised at the apparent irrelevance of the question. “And, Burroughs!” “Yes, miss?” “What warm afternoon dress have I that I look awfully nice in?” “Why, the brown velvet from Lu- cile, miss; you do look a perfect lit- tle doll in that, miss.” Another splash in the tub and a ripple of laughter. “Thank you, Burroughs—you see, I'm driving the pony and sleigh out in the country tomorrow afternoon.” “Yes, miss?” “And I’m. not Burroughs.” “No, miss?” After this Gloria was silent. She hopped hurriedly into bed from ner bath and ate her crackers and milk like a good child, smiling every now: and then at her own thoughts. Then she told Burroughs to put out her lights and not allow her to be disturbed. “You see, Burroughs, I'm a society queen now, and I have got to get my beauty sleep. Good night.” “Quite so, miss, and good night, miss,” said Burroughs, as she tiptoed toward the door. ° “Burroughs! Do you ever pray?” “Oh, yes, miss; always; night and morning.” “Well, then, please pray for beauti- ful weather tomorrow.” driving out alone, “Certainly, miss. Anything else, miss?” “No, nothing, thank you. Good night.” . . . . . : . } On the following day, all arrange ments having been made by telephone to the Stafford country place, Gloria took Burroughs with her and mo- tored out. They were met by a glow- ing and enthusiastic Freneau at the railroad station. Gloria took him on .to her warm-weather home, which managed to keep a majestic appear- ance in its mantle of snow, The dogs started a wild hullabaloo DAILY TRIBUNE of ferocity from thetr kennels when the car drove in. They changed their excited barks to yelps of welcome as they recognized Gloria. But she left them disconsolate, for a groom brought up from the stable yard her shaggy po- nies harnessed to the ttle Russian sleigh ‘As she stopped to pet the noses of the ponies Freneau lost for a moment his confidence in his own power to win thi small young beauty en- veloped in a great coat, which made her seem smaller still, her eyes beam- ing, her cheeks flushed with the cold, her delicate pink blonde curls escap- ing from the little fur-trimmed hat. With this palatial background, among the obsequious attendants, she gtood, more than ever for him, the embodiment of power,—youth, beauty, weal What hed he to offer in exchange for that worldly trinity? Spoiled by women as he was he felt that however sincerely he wanted this slip of a girl—wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone else in his lifa—s might elude him. Gicria turned to him with a bright smile, and seeing the look of adora- eyes, blushed an even tion in his deeper rose than she had been wear- ing. “I think we had better start at once if we are to get our sleigh ride,” she said. The days are so short now; we must make the most of this stingy sunlight.” “Right!” Freneau answered eager- ly as he helped her into the sleigh. The ponies were champing at the bits and jingling the bells and waving the pompons on their heads with every impatient movement. Gloria stepped into the driver's seat (she was going to drive them herself, wise girl!) d Freneau snatched the sa- ble robe from the hands of a groom, saw that her little feet were in place on the ot warmer, and proceeded to wrap her snugly in, (How nicely he did things of that sort, she thought.) “We will be back in a couple of hours, probably stop somewhere for He Recognized Pneumonia Without Difficulty, tea,” Gloria called to Burroughs as they passed the lodge door. She felt the thrill of being a runaway once more, and she was glad that her fa- ther was not present to thrust a chap- tron upon them. Gut into the road and off they went, youth, health, and joy of life in their veins; love in their hearts. The po- nies pranced and cavorted, somewhat too strenuously, Freneau feared, un- til he realized how skillfully Gloria's hands were in handling them. On tney glided merrily, chatting of the big nothings of young love, Gloria pointing out paths and places of in- terest, Dick Freneau seeing them only as they were mirrored in her ¢yes, since he could not bear to turn away from her lest he lose one fleet- ing expression of her face. After several miles of “up hill and down dale,” Gloria turned her ponies off the main road into one less used. “I'm taking you to the dearest old- fashioned farmhouse, where we can have tea and the nummiest apple but- ter you ever tasted. Shall you like it?” “T shall like anything and every- thing in this world, so long as I have it with you,” Freneau breathed ear- nestly. “Then that’s all right,” chirruped Gloria, happily. “You shall most certainly have this tea with me, and i'm famished.” When they reached the farmhouse, which called itself an iun, the plump landlady greeted Gloria with pleased recognition and ushered them into the parlor, saying that she would hasten with their tea and bring the table to them there by the fire. Freneau helped Gloria out of her great coat— how “well he took off a coat, she thought. She emerged like a golden- brown butterfly in a velvet gown, The blazing logs in the deep fire- place gilded the beauty of a truly charming old room. Gloria fingered ¢ae quaint pewter pieces on the man- lel and Freneau waited restlessly for Mrs. Bailey to hurry in with the tea things and hurry away. Soon they were left alone, seated opposite each ol + the little tea table between. Gloria learned his sugar. She became suddenly timid and embarrassed. It aid seem very intimate and daring. It was the first time she had ever asked @ man about his sugar all alone with himt She Became Suddenly Timid and Embarrassed, Dick perceived her shyness and di- vined the cause at once. He must speak now. He would never have @ better chance, he thought. Putting down his cup, he reached across the table for her hand. “Gloria, dear little Gloria,” he sighed, “my five years of probation are up. I’ve waited patiently and always hopefully. Mayn’t I have my reward now? Please say that you will marry me quickly and put me out of my misery, will you?” Gloria could not answer. She hung her pretty head and wriggled back a little farther into the grandfather's chair. Perhaps she did not want to end the luxury of keeping him anxious with a too immediate yes. He would not dally. He picked up the little table that stood between them and putting it aside dropped on one knee before her, like the true artist in love that he was He clasped his arms about her and she closed her eyes and gave him her lips. They heard the untimely hostess ap- proaching and he sat back in his chair, twirling his mustache, while tried to look as if nothing had hap- pened. Nothing had happened except a short flight to heaven. On the way home they chattered merrily of the everythings that would make up their new life. The scenery was the same, yet how different! They were betrothed now. For many rea- sons Freneau was impatient to have her father’s sanction to their engage- ment as soon as possible. Gloria de- cided that she would drive him home with her and beard her parent in his lair without delay. . ° . . ° . . Pierpont Stafford was not unpre- pared for the “Will you let me marry your daughter?” speech that Richard Freneau made him. He had given his own word five years before that if Fre- neau and Gloria found themselves in the same frame of mind at this date he would raise no further objections. Ha gave up the fight now, and took his defeat like the true sport he was, gra- clously concealing his own sad heart. The radiance of his child and the evident sincerity of Freneau almost re- paid him; at least they made him hopeful for her happiness. One stip- ulation only he insisted upon, that the engagement should not be made pub- lic at once. He knew that engage- ments were not necessarily certain to end in marriage, and he wanted to test Freneau a littm further. He insisted upon guarding his daughter's name to that extent. If anything went wrong with them theyeshould not have to take the great American public into the secret. Freneau agreed to this, the more readily since it would give him the more time to propitiate and get rid of Lois. And old Trask might have to be given his quietus in one way or another. While Freneau and her father held their council of war Gloria had gone out to the hall to wait its outcome. There Freneau found her huddled up on the lower step, hugging herself as if she were cold. He rushed to take her in his arms for a kiss. She bat- tled him with mock resistance, before she ran up the stairs to play Juliet to his Romeo. Then, throwing kisses, they parted. When she reached her room Gloria found herself shivering with a violent chill that all the warmth of her heart could not subdue. Burroughs was in- stantly alarmed. She summoned Gloria’s father, who was even more alarmed. He made her go to bed at once, ordered her covered with many blankets, and had hot-water bottles filled. The chill did not abate. In a panic he telephoned from Gloria’s own room to his old family physician, Doctor Wakefield, and was fortunate enough to’ reach him and be assured of his immediate attendance. Doctor Wake- field was a fussy medical man of the very old school. He had taken good care of the Stafford family, but lat- terly he had let science outrun him. Still he recognized pneumonia without difficulty. He whispered the dreadful word to Stafford and ordered in two trained nurses and no end of medi- cines. Pierpont. Stafford was frantic with anxiety. He telephoned for Gloria’s brother and for Aunt Hortensia. Bur- roughs told them of the stolen sleigh ride and Pren: ‘cau became less popular Gloria | with the Staffords, father and son, than ever before, Days and nights of harrowing fear dragged over that household. Wealth had not dulled affection, nor could it seem to bribe death, The fever line mounted on the nurse’s chart like a mountain side, and Gloria grew weak- er, except in her deliriums, when she seemed to be inhabited by demons of ferocious strength. At length David felt that Doctor Wakefield had been given all the time to experiment with Gloria's life that could be afforded. He was for calling in a young man of the newest school of medical art. He called for Doc- tor Royce. Royce came with no hesi- tation over medical ethics or cour- tesies. Gloria was more than a pa- tient to him, and old Wakefield was less than a doctor in his eyes, after he had questioned the Staffords as to the manner of Doctor Wakefield's treatment. Things were, as he feared, all wrong. It was life or death. Doc- tor Wakefield could not cope with the disease. He must be dispossessed as politely as possible, Doctor Wakefield, he learned, was in the sickroom above. Royce would not mince matters or wait on professional etiquette. He felt.the eagerness of a lover in coming once more to the rescue of his idolized Gloria. He ran up the stairs and walked into the room. He hardly knew his Gloria when he saw her. She was in the throes of a wild delirium. She imag- ined herself once more among the Seminoles who had held her in bond- age when she ran away in Florida five years before, In her tormenting fancy she was again dressed as a squaw and set to the task of gathering firewood and subjected to the worse task of endur- ing the old squaw’s hatred and the young chief's love. Ghe begged him to kill her rather than marry her, and she fought with all her fury, seizing Wakefield's white hair with one hand and the nurse’s black locks with the other. There was no quieting her outcries, “Take me home; my father is rich! He will make you rich! Oh, they don’t believe me! Help! Hel Then she smiled and cried: “Dick, Dick, it’s you! You'll save me! Blessed, beloved Dick! Oh, I’m so glad, so glad you found me!” Then the frenzy left her and she sank back exhausted, but content. Doc- tor Royoe realized that he had two antagonists now to fight—Death and Richard Freneau—both of them try- ing to take from him the girl of his heart. Death was the first to fight. Royce was too desperate to treat Doctor Wakefield with much formality. He asked a few questions which roused the ire of the old physician. He ex- amined the patient, threw off the smothering blankets and exclaimed, “Fresh air is the best and only treat- ment for pneumonia.” He fiung up the window, shoved Gloria’s bed against it, and let the cold air from the river sweep into the room and into her tormented lungs, Almost gt once her breathing be came lese labored. Doctor Wakefield left in as dignified a rage as he could manage. Royce threw away all the Wakefield medicines and gave the nurse a new set of instructions. The nurse, at least, whom Doctor Wake- field had prescribed, seemed a capa- ble one. Royce welcomed her as & valuable aid in the gruesome fight. He arranged to stay all night, and al- layed poor old Stafford’s fears as best he could. But his own head was near to breaking with terror for the safety of Gloria’s sweet life—and for her piness if she lived. . (TO BE CONTINUED.) Half Open Jewel Boxes. “They whom we speak of as dead have their own work to do and theft own life to live, so perhaps they don’t think of us every moment. But surely we've only to call. They may not see us in the flesh, any more than we can see them in the spirit; but it to me when I was very close to the other side, that our bodies don’t in-