New Britain Herald Newspaper, July 1, 1927, Page 20

Love’s Embers Adele Garrison’s Absorbing Sequel to “Revelations of a Wife” Beginning a New Serial————’ Lilltan’s answer to Phillip Veritzen's | first visit to the farm, she has ad- sally was prompt and mirthful, but mired it, although, because of a I saw that her eyes were fixed upon.|crabbed rebuft by the me as she spoke and that her |neither of us ever repeated our first thoughts were focused upon my re-'essay to pass the group of towering | action to her announcement that she and her daughter , Maricn, were not coming to the farmhouse for Summer. Yet her words betrayed no | but rented,” 1 told her hint of the inward disturbance which | * t group of people 1 was sure was here. lever have seen.” “If you're only infirm enough, “I breathe again «he told Mr. Veritizen laughingly, |rically, ignoring my reference “Madge will welcome you into her |new tenants of “The Larche: home gladly. That's her speclalty, |y she said, turning to Mr. Ver- taking care of derelict humans, dogs | itzen, “it has been my amjition to anc cats. There's usually a men- own ‘The Larches, agerie outdoors and a hospital inside |try estate ncar to the Graham fram- wh or she ie house, Of cou there isn't the “What prepostorous nonsense, | slightest chance of my ever having Lillian!" T protested at this exagger- money enough to buy a corner of the ated reference to my unwillingness |barn, and I wouldn't have the slight- to turn away any tramp seeking a | est idea what to do with it if T did night's shelter in the barn, or to have it. But I've had the fun of e any stray dog or cat put out of dreaming about it all these years the way. But Lilllan rattled on as|that it has been unoccupied. And if I had not spoken. now somebody else has it! I'll wager “Of course you'd have to be a tetal 'the occupants don't know enough to wreck for Madge to take any interest |appreciate it, whoever they are.” in you,” she said. “People who can| [ silently agreed with her as take care of themselevs do not ap- [remembered the half contemptuous, peal to her at all.” careles words with which Eleanor “I shall have to devise some way | Lincoln, the young chatelaine of of getting crippled artistically,” Mr. [“The Larches,” had answered my Veritzen replied, with a challenging | encomiums of the place. Yet honesty glance at me. But T was quite proud |compelled me to admit that 1 was of the perfunctory little smile 1 gave jsure the reason for Miss Lincoln him in answer, the sort of thing | indifference lier probable past which a fatigued hostess gives to the | sojourns in more beautiful Rundreth “You've given us such a marvelous evening,” and then I turned to Lillian with a tople which I Knew was sure not only to engross her attention but to call forth her locquaciousnese, 1 was resolved to give Phillip Veritzen no more oppor- tunity for the embarrassing personal | comments he appeared determined to voice. “There's one ‘lodge in the wilder- ness' which is lost to you this Sum- mer,” T said. “I've hated to tell you ever since I heard the news.” hurlesqued desp; “Don’t tell me ‘The sold,” she begged and there |larches which g-iarded the place and |hid its beauties from the profane the |eyes of passers-by. was much usiastic over it,” I sald. have ‘eves that see ntoned id they were a lot . Tell us about them.” A swift, “udden recollection came to me, that of Noel Veritzen's sur- prising reacting and disclosure he had b the men in of our farmst weening et ) hoy ‘s stately poi with a similar & “In first place.” 1 1- apprehension in her tone though the younz mistress of the since she'first saw the rambling place denies it, I am sure they are lected old place yed on her | all Transvanians. . not’, “But you queer f of the shack at the edge ad. T felt an over- to know what the father would do Larches’ tie neg- | | 1 OLD MAN COYOTE IS. PRAL A little praise just now and then Is good for all ,including men. —O01d Man Coyote 0ld Man Coyote was satisfied with ' ir He was very well satisfied vith himself and his very expression | showed it. He lay on the doorstep oi} 1 home up in the Old Pasture falt ote knew what he had that is what he hoped. hont : Dewn across the Gr lows Bowser the Hound, with drooping tail and hangisig head, was sneaking home. He always sneaks home when Reddy I'ox or Old Man Coyote has been too smart for him. He doesn't need to sneak home, but he s | ashamed. Yes, sir, he always is ashamed when one of those two scamps has been too smart for him. Presently, out of the bushes back of Old Man Coyote, stepped Mrs. Coyote. “What are you grinning about?” said she. othing, nothing!” Man Coyote hastily, grinning. “You look mightily pleased with yourself.” declared Mrs. Coyote. “What have you been doing?" “Oh, jast having a little fun,” re- plied Old Man Coyote. "“What haie you been doing with yourself, my dear?” You see, he was trying to change the subject. ! Mrs. Coyote pald no attention the question. at was that dread- ful moise I heard over there in the ' g9 i 0ld Pasture?” she asked. ia “Oh, that wasn't a dreadful noise, replied Old Man Coyote. “That was just Bowser the Hound trying to tell all the Great World that he was go- ing to catch me. “Where is he now?" Inquired Mrs. Coyote, “Back in Farmer Brown's door- vard by this time, T guess; back | where he belongs.” replicd Old Man Coyote. “Anyway he was headed that way the last T saw him, By the way, | my dear, have you ever heen chased by dogs?" Mrs. Coyote €hook her head. “No,” said she, “I never have. You know I told you I was taken when I was very little, so' I have spent most of | BrOSgrain band, my lifs in a cage. | T Old Man Coyote nodded his head “I thought so.” said he. T thought so. | 1 shall have to teach you some e ‘What are you grinning about?” | said she The next stor A Old Man Coyote Warning by | eclaimed Old | and stopped | I TN T T to | A new whim in the mode is to pin a replica of your favorite dog in chenille on the crown of your hat—black and white felt hat, white smart enough to hreak your trail so that he cannot pick it up, he is apt | to make a lot of trouble for you. It i3 well to know what to do. 1 enjoy | havi with him once in a chile, but there is such a thing as 00 TuC ing.” 0 interrupted run Coyore. Do you ote, prie it my Mrs. Co It is rur s way every way, on a hig making a long jump to 2 d fina her long hird rock, i sh 0!4 Man Coyote & “Where ol ears. Man | Coy ‘What to twinkle nd forth, criss-cross, were von ser th- Hound was foliowing me and yoi ¢ us and led L ke wouldn't chage 'ne jr v ad! Never in ali my He wss 1 0 proud as when 1 saw you 0ol that veg It was won- derful, my dear, it was wonderful! s par orr v MEa szcy The Black Dottom has made the home a favorite stamping ground, she said theat- | a neglected coun- | it but they're not par-| dramatically. | white NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, FRIDAY, JULY 1, 1827 My What Has Happened. ! Phillip Wynne IV has had caretaker, | @ childish engagement with Natlee I am about to take possesion of my | Jones. Becoming interested in Lyra | Hilliard, an old friend of his mother- |er's, he finds himself falling in love | with her. Natlee, overhearing him making love to Lyra, breaks her en- | gagement. It all comes to nothing, however, because America enters the war. | Philllp enlists and is soon in “rance, Just before leaving, Phil ts Natlee again and they plan to ! be married. The immediate depart- of the troops, however, prevents Soon after arriving in France Phil s wounded and Is decorated for ! b convalescent, armistice 1s and Phil returns to Paris. mother goes to France, accom- | panied by Mojor Aukland, devoted to her. Uncxpectedly she comes face o face with her son. Mrs. Tracy learns that Phil intends {to marry Pat, a French divorcee | with a four-year-old child. She re- | fuses her conscut to the marriage !and after Phil's discharge they re- turn to America; [4 Mrs. Tragy invites Natlee to their | home the first morning after their ireturn. Natlee scems cold and friv- lolous in her manner. She repulses Phil, and Phil is then convinced that she Is Interested in Jerry Kenyon. her father's young partner in busi- ness About this time Phil receives a letter from Pat, telling him that a marriage has been arranged between herseif and a wealthy Frenchman, | Sick at heart, Phil's thoughts turn to Lyra Hilliard, and he riiones her !long distance. They arrange a meet- {ing for the next week. Phil starts! {out to keep his tryst. the story futher CHAPTER LVI PHIL AGAIN § For the first 50 miles Phillip paid (little_attention to his car. but as the night sped on and he almost had the road to himself, he stoppcd on the gas and watched the speedome- ter mark 30, 60, and finally 70 miles, with a kind of triumph. Out there alone on this nippy. moonlight night. enveloped in the fur coat that had always spelled | pleasure to him, that he was happier than he had been since he had last ' worn it. Life again was beckoning ' him: there was something for him in the future; he would pick up the tangled threads and straighten them {out; he would make something of himselt after all. His thoughts flew back to that morning so long ago when he was first going to sce Lyra-—the morning | he met her at the train, and to his surprise and joy he found that he was at least touching the garments of the youth he had lost somewhere over there in France. On he drove through the darkness, tor the moon had set, and the sun had not yet begun to dye the eastern sky with rose and gold. He looked at the meter, By the dash- light's glow he found he had gone 0 miles. He decided he was sleepy, and as he was entering a small town, nhe drove fo the hotel on the main street, ordered his car taken to the hest garage and brought back at 9 o'clock. Then he went up to the room as- signed him and in less than 10 min- utes was fast asleep. For a moment Phillip could not tell wh the jangling nolse was | coming from, bui when he fully | awakened he caught up the tele- | phone receiver and was told that it was half-past eight and his break- fast would be on the table, as he | had ordered, in 15 minutes. | With “a cold shower, a hurried lipping into his clothes, and a hap- | realization that the mood of the | tde | unfolds went down to He felt like a small boy who was playing hooks. No onc knew where he was. Only Lyra was looking for | his coming. For the first time since he started home, he ate his Ameri- can breakfast, from fruit to cakes and maple syrup, with an appetite. By the time he had finished and paid his bill, his car was at the door, surrounded by a group of small hoys to whom a Rolls Royce roadster was something they had dreamed about, but never expected to see, “Are you the Prince of Wi | «'DOK 340] I MOy MOWY dIU [LOOL ‘BuuLM ‘Buuspy ALUSIRUED AND COPYRIGHTED BY JOHNSON FEATURES I1C. Sons Sweethearts IDA_McGLONE GIBSON W W y “No," answered Phil with a laugh, | “but I'm a prince just the same, and kingdom. Come on, youngsters, per- haps you can all pile in or on the car, and Tl take you for a little | ride.” i 1 Putting two of them on the seat o beside him and four in the ruml»lc" behind, with four piled on the| fenders, Phil necessarily lost about 50 miles in the next hour. They dropped off one by one, how- ever, and when the smallest was set down by the street car track, with a silver dollar to pay his way back to town, Phil sald, rathei I W h T got all the luck in #he world now,” answered the boy in surprise. “Havg 1? 1 hope you're rig Phil returned as he started his car ! on its way. Two hundred and fifty by $ o'clock that night her strenuous, he thought, as he stepped on the gas. His gay mood was wear- ing off a little, but as he r ched the city fn which Mrs. Hilliard lived and saw the golden rim of the moon ri ing, his heart began to beat faster. She will probably think I am crazy to go to see her in a dinner coat.” he thought, well knowing that it she did not understand and re- member that on their last ride, hoth of them werc in evening dress, he would be greatly disappointed. His morning appetite had vanished but he manged to cat a little some- thing, and at 9 o'clock sharp he was at Lyra Hilliard home. He had expected- her to come to the door to meet him and was hurt when he found himself ushered | into the drawlng - room by a maid. Lyra Hilliard came forward to meet him. The thought that was uppermost in his mind the first time he saw her, persisted in coming again. “Why, she is old.” “Phillip, dear, you cannot tell how glad T am to see you. Quite naturally she slipped his arms. As hiz lips met hers, felt for the moment the same thrill, He discovered that her skin v Just as satiny and cool as er, his mouth droped from her lips to her throat, and when he |fted his head from where it had snuggled in- to the curve between her neck and shoulder, he caught again that mys- terious translucency that made her skin look as though it weye lighted from within. “Lyra, Lyra, why you wr me that cr letter he when he had led her batk to the big, deep-cushioned chair, and scated himself on the arm of it. “Because Anne said t I had ruined you, bady and soul, and I— well, dear, I suppose I have some pride, and I wanted to make her un- | derstand that T could hurt you worse by leaving you than by stay vou. But It's all over boy. You are here close can look into your eyes however much you have changed ve grown so thin—and y mouth is hard and serfous—but in- side you are the same Phillip T used to know—the one wonderful gesture of youth—the one I have never found | before or since.” “Oh, Lyra, I have missed you s0." Phillip was honest in his asscrtion now that he was with he He did not realize that he had barely re- | membered from the time he went away until he found that everything | else about his homecoming had dis- | oappointed him. | The woman bedlde him reached ' ad and touched his check, said nothing. ¢ Lyra Hilllard did not doulit he |t thought he was telling the truth, but |1 she knew he had not missed her as i she had missed him. However, she could not lose {his one last flare of emotion. $he mad. elf believe that Phil had he lonely for her—lonely as she had bean for him. “Do you know, swectheart, yon are the only thing that has not dis- appointed me since T came home. T had decided that life was not worth livh; but now, darling, you have | made me think that I shall ain taste all the first things. Do you | dear, it was you that first made me pouring silver spangles all over the river below. It was vou t made me think at life was going to be one long chain of jovous days. I o I miles 1 r t b W ¥ 1 1 i into he old T t i I did t c to me. T nd see that vou 1 W 1 t t W f feel of your caressing hands upon sily face that she had made a mistake. Quickly, to change the subject, she T have been looking for an announce- ment every day.” ple, Lyra, would not want She knew that she had only to say came ba no one, not even himself. feet he looked down upon her. She have never loved you, and what you of it was a vagrant fancy. hillip's volce was ice. arm of my chair again, and I will see it I can make you understand.” sat down, although he did not lean vou, Phillip, that few women have daved to think and probably none of she wanted to retain. |voice was very sad, worl had appreciate the moonlight, |which Some human beings, hoth male and ing curlosity, and they will—yes, they must go to any lengths to sat- isfy it. Usually both men and wom- en of 'his tcmperament call this cur- fosity ‘love.’ Only a few dare to face the truth and acknowledge them- selves that it is not love that calls them. “Love means the spiritual as well as the physical, dear boy, and ultl- mately it is & comradeship which makes one star.l by the other under any and all circumstances. It al- ways makes one understand that back just a-little way is something to lean upon—something to go back to. “Such a love nevc: burns out, be- cause it is not a flaring flame, rather it is a steady glow at which one can always warm one's heart. It is the kind of love that you will have to |have if you would find happiness. It is the kind of love that I have al- ways had for my husbang. I would be lost in a ravishing world without it, and him, It is the love that some day, when you find it, you will know that all the others have been false; ithe great love that in youth is both spiritual and physical, and which, if you marry, will in time become that wonderful, ing that is now my husband's and mine. Lyra's voice stopped for a moment. It was almost as though she could not go on, and then she seemed to take strength from a sudden resolve. “Phillip, you are young, very young, and I am old, very old. Much older than my years, and you are !much younger than yours. The fact ithat you are dramatizing yourself so ically at this minute is proof of was you that made me glad that I was. young. Dearest, the sight of you has made me young again. The ny facc.sends my blood like quick- r through my veins.” “Dear Phillip, I think you are the poet I have ever known.” You made me one, sweetheart.” CHAPTER LVII LYRA DENIES HER LOVE “Yes. I told your mother so," .yra Hilliard answefed complacently, when Phillip told her she had made im & poet. The words were hardly out of her mouth when she knew by Phillip's d: “I thought- you would be married efore you returned from France. “I do not know why you should be thinking that,” said Phil, stupidly. ‘I should think that you, of all peo- me to narry a I'rench girl Lyra drew a little sobbing breath. “Dear boy, I will love you as long 1s time shall last,” and he would be \ers again. She also new that if Phillip Tracy to her, his life would be ruined forever—because when he ired of her, as he inevitably would, he would become a blase man of the world, who belleved in nothing or "that Again the boy had risen, but Lyra laid a dstaining hand upon his arm. “You're whole birthright, environ- ment and cducation have made you selfish, The very smile upon your Ilips has always brought you every- thing you wished. You have never desired to giev—you have always de- sired to take, You have a great {work in this world, Phil, and to do {it you must marry some girl who will help you. You must have children, “Oh. God, Phillip, if you only knew how I've wanted children! I pray that you will never know that longing and realize its burning tor ture. Only a son to whom you can give all the things you wanted most son in whom you hope to see the virtues that you were to weak (o make yours will crush out that long ling. “Phillip, strange as it may seem all that has gone beforc in my life, 1 do not regret. It was another and stranger soul that took possession of {me, but tonight I had to tell you {this, for you asked from me som thing 1 could not give—something {which has always been in the keej ing af another man—I gave to him {my love when 1 married him.” | Phillip again stood up. The full !moon looked in at the big picture window and threw him into silhou ette with a backing of silver. “Good-bye, Lyra I'm going. have made me understand.” He strode out of the room. Run {ning to the window, she watched him Ldrive away, knowing : e would never sce him again. Then she went over to the mantel and picked up a large photograph of her husband. He was bald, his cheeks hung down in pendulous {jowls, his small eyes wera almost iclosed by puffs of flesh that hung junder them. Lyra Hilliard's face was that of a fury. With a hysterical gesture she tore the photograph through its smirking mouth. ! “You old, fat pig. T U've always lated you. Wynne, | Wynne—you'll never know how 1 ‘love you,” and with a passion of sobs and tears she sank to the floor, i Her idea of fair play and her heart'were fighting each other hard. Iinally she sald, soft! “But you know, Phillip I don't ove you. Philllp Wynne Tracy IV sprang rom the arm of the chair. From his ooked very frail and white, huddled n the depths of the cushions. “What do you mean, Lyra sked curtly. ‘I mean just what I have said. T vo called love for me was only one vour youthful vagrant fancies.” “You're crazy. Surely you, of all sersons, should know better than hat.” ‘It's because I am I—the one who s different from all others—that T inow better than anyone else that You ..ill forgive me, Lyra, when ¢ that I do not understand you. ‘ome back here and sit on the Like a sullen, reluctant child, he oward the woman also buried in the lepths of the chair. Sitting very straight, so that he ould look dircctly at her. he tried o fathom what she meant. With a catch in her throat that was hardly wudible, Lyra turned her face to his. | I'm golng to say something to hem has ever before had the temer- to tell any man whose respect “Phillip,” she said, and her low I have never oved you or any of the others that came inté or went out of my life, ike shadows acress a pane.” Phil shook himself as though he were trying to wake up. surely, you know, dear, that you vere not the first nor the last.” He looked blankly at her as she ontinued: “But what you have not nown, and what few would believe, ither men or women, if T had told ; Disillusloned and unhappy, hem, was that T have loved but one (lip's thoughts again return 1o his nan in all my life, and that man |first love. But has Natlee growr 1y hushand. e lcold? Read what happens in the How horrible!" i next chapter. | hate vou To Be Continued Phil did not his exclamation. Phillip, that is what the A would say of me, but if a man told you anything like this sout himself, would you have be- ieved that he conld have loved his | ife truly and yet betrayed her oft- Perhaps. wisted from his set lips, “Phillip!” ILyra Hilliard came osel to the arm of the chair on he sittir She did not ouch him. “Don’t you know that women are no different from men? Menus for the Family cereal, syrup. Breakfast—Stewed prunes, cream. baked Irench milk, coffee. Luncheon—Green pea bhisque, toast sticks, tomato sandwiche bread | pudding, lemonade. Dinner—Broiled halibut steaks, ilemon butter, baked potatoes, grecn ibeans in cream, cucumber salad, trawberry mousse, milk, coffee. Strawberry Mousse One quart strawberries, 1 1-2 cups sugar, 1 tablespoon granulated gola- tine, 4 tablespoons cold watter, 2 1-2 cups whipping cream. Wash, hull and drain TWO WOMEN FOUND HELP Their_Sickness Banished by Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege- table Compound Mrs. Nina Matteson, Box 206, Oxford, N. Y., writes—"If it had not been for your medicine, I could not have done my work as it should have been done, Mother told me of Lydia E. Pinkham'’s Vegetable Com- pound, and T had The word seemed | i emale, are born with overwhelm- berries, papers what it had done for dif- ferent women. She wanted me to try it, so my hus- band got me one bottle at first; then T took twavothers. * * * Now I am feeling quite strong again.” Mrs. Ernest Tanguay of Adams, Mass,, says che was ill for four years and could not sleep nights or g0 out on the street. She read about the Vegetable Compound and decided to try it. After taking eight bottles she was able to do all her work and go anywhere and is quite herself again This dependable Vegetable Com- pound is a househpld word in thou- sands of homes, e fourth genera- tion is now learning the merit of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Com- is medicine has helped other women, why shouldn’t it help you? At your drugglst’ affectionate understand- i - |stantly in bed, and You | Phil- | read in different | Sprinkle with sugar and let stand one hour. Press through a coarse sieve. Soften gelatine in cold water for ten minutes. Dissolve over hot water and stir inte berries. Let gtand until mixturé begins to thicken. Fold in cream whipped until firm. Turn into mold and pack in ice and salt. Let stand four hours. Use six cups ot finely crushed ice to one cup of ice cream salt and do not stir while freezing. This mousse is excellent frozen in an iceless refrigerator. Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of Iliness BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editor Jourmal of the American Medical Association and of Hy- gela, the Health Magazine, When the heart is affected so greatly that the person cannot keep up his usual activitics, the entlre | {body will be found to be in an ex- hausted condition. Dr. Fred M. Smith points out |that the proper procedure under | Isuch clrcumstances is to provide a diet that will not impose an exces- sive load on the circulation of blood, but will at the same time give suf- ficlent nourishment for the ordinary | activities. In an attempt to determine the best possible diet for persons with | heart failure, it was found that milk {ana carbohydrates or sugar substanc- | s should form the major portion of uch a diet. A simple that was de- | veloped included 44 grams of pro- tein, 110 grams of fat and 222 grams of carbohydrates, and heat energy {value of 2100 calories. Most of the diet consisted of milk, cream, butter, eggs, vegetable purees, cooked ce- reals and fruit juices. Thede things were given in small amounte, Frequenty when the heart fails there is a tendency for water from the blood to accumulate in the tis- sues. Under such circumstances the mount of liquid taken in is limited | ito about thrce pint§ a day, and the | jamount of salt is reduced to a min- If it is found that the per- along well on this begin- ning alt-frec eracker '104150 and stick candy may he added 1o the dict on the third or fourth day. On the eig i the patient still continues s ¥, pureed fruits and pureed vegetables are ad- {ded to the dict. The dict is kept soft {in order to aid digestion, since prac |tically all of the paticnts are con- it is only as they are improved that the energy value and the nature of the food are changed. Patients who have failing hearts re put to bed at absolute rest. If necessary, drugs are used to trengthen the heart beat, to aid the | ction of the bowels and to promote | leep. The proper use of remedies in | | such conditions is an indication of | the manner fa which medical science uses every possible advantage provid- {ed by chemistry, physics and phar- | Oy 1 e ane vatient 2| The delicious food-drink that Under proper treatment by diet, | Children Zike, which also gives the excess of fluid | them the valuable muscle and | that water does not | bone-forming elements found in |the tissues and the the grain and whole milk. sy Instantly prepared in water or Jemes : | milk.8&¥ Tskeapackage home. | covel i | | Root heer is a pure, Wholesome beverage, when made from Wil- liams' Root Reer Extract. Costs you less than one cent per glass. 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