Evening Star Newspaper, June 8, 1930, Page 83

e Mryguis de Trianchet,” would means some- thing, but to say “My daughter, Mrs. Peter Marley,” would mean nothing at all. 86 he did not warn Corinna, who went on, enjoying Paris and the attention of a clever man, and never considered that a girl could be committed to anything before a word about marriafe had been spoken by any one. She had no suspicion that by the Trianchet family she was considered ripe fruit dangling within their reach; that when the marquis left Paris for two days he had run down to Touraine to taikk the matter over with his great-uncle, Achille, who, since the death of the old mar- quis, had acquired a sort of leadership of the clan. Then one day Rcsamund Shannon O'Keefe came into her life. Corinna liked to walk down the Champs Elysces in the bright morning sunlight amcng the children and the nursemaids in caps and the old women selling balloons. This morning she had gone hardly more than a block when she heard her name, and, turning, she found herself face to face withh a tall, simply dressed woman; loops of magnificent red hair billowed out below her small dark hat, her face was handsome in a rugged, hollow-cheeked sort of way, and her eyes magnificent, dark blue Irish eyes. “MY name is O'Keefe, Miss Daner,” she said with that slight roll to the final “r” which is 80 agreeable when done by the French or Irish and 30 unattrictive when done by Lancashire and some part of the United States. “Maybe you’ve never heard of me.” «“Oh, yes, I have,” said Corinna at once. The last day she had tulen luncheon with De Trianchet in his apartment she had noticed 4hat the walls of his study were hung with excellent oil portraits of his horse. Conversa- tion about the artist had not been encouraged, but the second time she asked she had learned the name was O'Keefe. “Shall we sit down a minute?” said Miss O’Keefe. “I want to talk to you.” Corinna did not like the girl's manner, and yet could think of no reason for refusing. “I'll not keep you long, but I have something to tell you maybe you don't know.” There was a pause, and then she added: “There’s an idea about that you and Leon de Trianchet will be married soon.” “Indeed!” said Corinna haughtily. “Indeed and indeed,” answered Miss O'Keefe, *But I can tell you that vou never will be.” Corinna looked squarely into the girl's blag- ° ing eyes. “And how do you know that?” “Because,” replied Miss O’Keefe without raise ing her voice, “I would kill you. When I first heard of all this I thought I would kil my- self, but then I thought how much better to kil you.” g Corinna was perhaps more excited than alarmed, and certainly anger predominated. It seemed o her there was a great impertinence “ in stopping a stranger and threatening to kill her if she went about her own business. ‘The way her anger expressed itself was to make her laugh. “And do you think the affec- tion of Monsieur de Trianchet would be espe- cially riveted to a murderess?” she asked. “Yes,” replied Miss O'Keefe. “I think so. Also I see you don't know much about the « French character.” “Possibly not,” said Corinna. “But wouldn't ~you be afraid that your love life might be cut short by guillotine?” “Of course, I'm afraid of it, but there's a chance—there’s a chance with a French court and a good lawyer, and what chance is there for me if you marry him? Are you going to marry him?” She caught at Corinna’s arm. Corinna shook off the girl's hand. “If you hadn’t threatened my life, I might have an- swered you civilly,” she said. “As it is, I really can't discuss the question with you at all,” and she began to walk down the shaded alley of Raising her voice, Miss O'Keefe followed. *You shall tell me!” she cried. Children stopped rolling hoops and stared. Observing the excitement, a gendarme ap- - proached rather with curiosity than with any intention to interference. A young student looked up and remarked to the world at large that, whoever he was, the monsieur in dispute was probably not worth the troubles “ces games" were giving themselves. Corinna said to herself, “Shall I run away and have them all pursue me, or shall I stay and find myself the center of a crowd?” “Oh, tell me the truth” pleaded Miss O'Keefe, and now tears were running down her cheeks. “Tell me yes or no. Put me out of this agony of not knowing. I cannot go through another day——" “Be quiet,” said Corinna. & crowd.” But Miss O’Keefe paid not the least attention #o the gathering circle. Corinna, who began to Jear that some one she know might happen along the Champs Elyvsees at any moment, saw that there was only cne way to cut the knot. - “No,” she said hastily. “I'm not going to marry him. He hasn’t asked me. But if he did I wouldn’t. I'm engaged to a man at home, and I'm going home to marry him as soon——" She did not finish the sentence, for she found herself clasped in Miss O'Keefe's embrace. “Ah, ha!” said the student. “A la bonne “Ah, ha!” said the gendarme. el “Ah, ha!” said the toothless old bonne with cap ribbons. “I don’t envy ce monsieur, now that the ladies are of on> mind.” “You're coliecting “It arranges HE student disagreed with her. Looking the ladies over critically, he was inclined to 4hink the gentleman lucky. The old woman, who must have been 70, lingered to dispute with him the question of love and jealousy. The gen- darme went back to the problems of traffic and the children to rolling hoops. Corinna extricated herself from the embrace and drove, rather shaken in spirit, to her dress- maker’s. She was decidedly frightened, not at the threat of death, but at the idea of the De Trianchet family. She felt as if she might find them waiting for her at the hotel with a mar- riage contract. She must leave Paris immedi- ately. But how? If she told her father the truth, he would perhaps make a scenc—a scene . THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JUNE 8 1930. 7 N “No,” she said hastily. “I'm not going to marry kim, he hasn’t asked me.” of moral reprobation with De Trianchet—and then he would take her to Spain or Germany. What she wanted was to go home. A wise op- portunist, she felt that somehow she could man- age to pull out of his unpleasant situation an immediate return to New York. When her fitting was over she turned her steps to one of the quietest spots for meditation fa all Parls—the Assyrian room in the Louvre. Here on a hard bench in front of a winged and bearded figure she sat so long that the guard who had come and peered at her once or twice finally Jost all interest in her and observed to a friend that evidently the gentleman had for- gotten the appointment. ‘That evening she and her father were dining Lefter From Noted Prisoner in ““Old Brick Capitol’ Revealed ACK in May, 1865, when the old brick Capitol was a military prison for the Union Army, there languished behind the bars of this famous bastile one Benjamin G. Harris, member of Congress from Maryland, who, according to his granddaughter, Mrs. Joseph Harris Key, who lives in Washington today, was “a true Southern sympathizer.” Memories of her grandfather’s unwarranted imprisonment and the later revocation of his sentence by President Andrew Johnson were recalled to Mrs. Key by an article on th: old brick Capitol appearing in the Sunday Maga- zine of The Star on May 25. She remem- bered a letter that Congressman Harris had penned to his wife from the historic prison three weeks after his incarceration and resur- rected it. Written on foolscap paper in ink but slightly faded during these 65 years, its yellowed pages reveal a striking picture of con- ditions then existing in the Civil War jail which once had been the Capitol of the United States. “The pretext for his arrest,” says Mrs. Key, ‘“was giving money to two m°n who represented themselves as paroled prisoners, but who in reality were known spies. He was tried by court-martial and sentenced to life imprison- ment. Later President Johnson issued a pardon, but my grandfather refused to accept a parden for what he felt was an act of charity. The sentence was then revoked. The case was fairly placed b:fore the President and I quote from a copy of his court-martial: ‘Mr. Harris will be restored to his family and friends with- out a stain upon his loyalty and without any compromise of his personal dignity or honor.’” Ex-Congressman Harris’ letter follows: Carroll Prison May 22, 1865 My dear wife: I avail myself of the privilege I have of writing you. In the first pjace I am very well and in excellent spirits. I have been ini close confinement for three weeks until yesterday. I lived entirely on prison fare which I found quite wholesome and good and bore my imprisonment with great patience indeed. The only reflec- tion disturbing me being the effect which my forced separation might have upon your spirits and health. Yesterday the superintendent, Mr. Wood, called at my room and told me I could have a more comfortable and airy room either with Govr. Vance, Govr. Brown and Mr. Lamar, or one adjoining them with the privilege of the yard and other privileges; which I find quite agree- able. I accepted of his offer and although I room in the adjoining room I ea¢ with the above named genWlemen, our meals being furnished from a restaurant at our joint expense. I have the privilege of walking in the East enclosure of the and of going to tha Capitol to bathe. Altogether I am as well fixed as a prisoner could possible expect, the only thing disturbing me being the condition of your spirits and health and that of my dear daughters. I hop: upon hearing that I am getting along so well you will be relieved from all depression of spirits in regard to me. My case has not yet besn decided. Of course as the verdict is a secret I cannot tell what it is until the War Department publishes its order respecting it. I have no fear of the result. I trust soon to be able to announce my release in proper person. I feel great anxiety about my farming affairs having left much undone when I left and which I feel may not receive attention. Corn I presume has been planted. Arrangements will be made for a small crop of tobacco. My sheep ought to be sheared at this time. Write me a long letter giving me every particular. I trust to hear you are all well. My own health is excellent and the only draw- back upon my spirits is not having your dear company. Don't allow yourself to be uneasy about me. Give love to all our dear family and all relations and friends, and do not fail to write me as soon as you can after you receive this, directing to Carroll Prison, care of Mr. ‘Wood, Buperintendent. I shall write you again immediately I receive your reply to this. I will now conclude this hasty note by assuring you of my devoted love, Your husband, B. G. HARRIS. Onion Is Fastidious The lowly omion, popular as a food even back w0 the days when the pyramids were built, may be common, but it is, nevertheless, a high- ly particular vegetable, so far as growing con- ditions are concerned. It requires especially good soil of high fer- tility and well drained. It will not grow if weeds be present, and it needs cold, moist soil while growing, and warm, dry conditicas at maturity. Ups and Downso f Aluminum LUMINUM production had its ups and downs during the past year, the up:s con- sisting of an increased production of 7,188 tons, 2 per cent more than in the preceding year. The total output was 394,093 tons. The value of. the production, however, fell sharply from 1928, the $11,677,728 being 17 per cent, or $2,312,536, less than in 1928, in their sitting room. Mrs. Sandon had gone to visit a friend. Corinna was extremely ami- able, suspiciously amiable—at least so Mr. Daner would have thought it she had been a business . competitor, but being merely his only child and a woman he did not suspect her of guile. The conversation had turned upon Mrs. San= don. Corinna had been expressing the greatest admiration for that lady. Mr. Daner beamed upon his child. How happy he was that the . two beings he loved best seemed to appreciate each other. Corinna was pouring out his after= dinner coffee as she observed: “Yes, Mrs. San- don will make a perfect marquise.” Mr. Daner, whose hand had moved toward the sugar bowl, was arrested like a motion picture when the reel stops turning. “A marquise!” he said. “Certainly, a marquise. Dear, you haven't been blind, have you, to what has been going on?” Blind? Had he been? He blurted out: “I thought De Trianchet was interested in you—I thought——"" His voice died away. Corinna had formed the plan of doing this thing without telling a technical lie, not that she set such deceitful truth on a pedestal, but just for the fun of the thing. So now she said: “Oh, no, Monsieur De Trianchet is interested in my fortune, in yours rather, but his love belcngs to some one else, He is now hesitating between love and money.” That was true encugh, goodness knew. “Are you sure of this?” asked her father. Indeed, she had every reason to be sure. “He is hesitating,” she went on, “but if you give him a week more he will decide for love. I have wondered, dear, why you are giving him all the time he needs.” “But—but,” he said, “Mrs. Sandon has been wanting to go home on every boat. It is only because I have made such a fuss that she has stayed on.” “Yes, that’s true,” said Corinna, “at least it was, but I doubt if she has any plans for sail- ing now, not unless you make them for her.” And she smiled at him. She feared this was ‘going far, that he might suspect her designs, but he didn’t, and presently she changed the subject, yet she could see that her father was in the grip of deep thought. Finally he got up and said he had an engagement at his club. CORINNA was not much surprised to be waked by her maid the next morning with news that Mr. Daner had had a cable calling him home on business, and that they were to sail the following day. Corinna was delighted to learn from her father later that Mrs. Sandon was sailing on the same boat. “She thought it a little hurried,” he said, “but she finally agreed.” He could not deny himself a smile. Corinna smiled back, as if she was a conspirator. Of course, she was, but not the way he thought. . The Marquis de Trianchet, hearing of their sudden flight, stopped in to bid them a cold good-by. Corinna insisted on keeping her father with her, and the visit lasted only a few minutes. “Next year you must come to America,” said Mr. Daner heartily. “You are very kind,” said the marquis. “But I fear, like so many of my countrymen, I shall never understand America.” He allowed his eyes to rove coldly across Corinna. She thought she understood his state of mind. He was angry at her for leaving him and yet secretly relieved that she was going. He would explain to his mother and sister and to Uncle Achille at Tours that he was very well out of it; he would tell Rosamund O’Keefe that he had never seriously intended to marry; he would be happier like this, but he would never forgive her, Corinna, for what she had done. She felt something bitter and implacable in him. “Some day, if you will let me, T could make it all clear to you,” she said with that gentle- ness that never failed to melt a countryman of her own. It had no effect on De Trianchet. He said: “I shall never trouble you to do that, made- moiselle,” and bowed and went away. Corinna sighed, knowing that she had de- served his hatred. Still, there was one kind deed to be done, and she did it. She found one of those little shops with a sign that says S0 non-committally “On consulte Botin.” En- tering and consulting the fat book, she found the address of Miss O'Keefe's studio, and she sent her this unsigned petit bleu: “For good news read the outgoing passenger lists tomor- row.” (Copyright, 1930.) Useful Knotty Lumber, THERE is one industry which not only has no antipathy for knotty lumber but actually welcomes it. Tests which have been carried out demon- strated beyond doubt that knctty shooks actu- ally add strength to the boxes up to as much as 50 per cent, providing, of course, that the knot is not too extensive. In thin material knots should net exceed more than one-fourth of the total width of the shook, but in thicker material the knot may be as much as half the width before it becomes too large. The market for inferior lumber presented by the wooden box industry is expected to go a long way toward keeping ths cost of other lumber at lower levels than if the knotty lum- ber were discarded. Protecting Sii/)/)/w/ W alls. ’l‘HE so-called stippled wall, many housewives find beautiful, but which they fear will gather dirt, may be made safe against dirt and discoloration by means of glaze, which is put on over the surfacc of the plaster. This glage makes a hard surface, which is readily cleaned and whigh is less likely to gather dirt in the first plpce. | o p Tinted, stippled walls produce some very beau- tiful effects through the resultant high-lights, which