Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, June 12, 1916, Page 10

THE BEE: OMAHA, MONDAY, JUNE_12, 1916 Hidden Fires Gloria’s Ro SIXTH INSTALLMENT. The sudden and perilous illness of | Gloria Stafford threw her official lov- | _ er, Freneau, also into a sudden and| perilous situation. He and his part-| ner, Mulry, had counted on using| Frencau's engagement to the daugh- | " ter of the great Pierpont Stafford | as a kind of collateral at the bank.| When the girl wa- stricken down| ~with pneumonia, Freneau's heart was | wrung as well as his purs He was genuinely in love with Gloria. "It was not hard to love so beautiful, so rich, * and so infatuated a girl. But he had | not counted on Heath as a possible val. And there was another, a more gertain rival-—-Dr. Stephen Royce- whom Gloria’s brother Dzvid had called in to take charge of the case. Royce had loved Gloria hefore Fre- neau ever saw her. It was Royce who had’ actually saved her from the Seminole Indians. Royce despised Freneau and had told him so. Royce would not even permit FKreneau to enter the sick room, where he was ‘master. reneau was permitted to send up flowers, but he could not be sure tha they reached her. He wondered what Royce was saying about him to Gloria hlgvhelher she believed it. | e did not know that Royce had been discouraged to make even what | an he might have given voice to. | hen he first entered Gloria’s room toyce saw on the little table near er bed a_silver-framed A)o . Freneau. Gloria was too delirious to e how his lip curled with, scorn. | ut_her- father saw it, and when Royce said, “This fellow is a scoun- rsl," Pierpont answered, sternly: 1 called you to treat. my daugh- ter's health, not her heart.” Freneau did not know that he had juch an ally in the family, But he that he had an enemy of a _peculiar sort, an enemy who loved not. wisely, but too well. And was Lois, the wife of David Staf- The poor Don Juan of a Freneau never dreamed when he began a casual flirtation with Lois that she rove so desperate a worship- . He had expect that she would im go with a sigh-or a smile, as other sweethearts had done when - realized that his heart had and used them, He was to ow y Lois took his at- s and to learn it at a most veniént time. He had respected s wish that the engagement should be kept secret, and no one but m partner, He had most decidedly not told He was planning to discard s gracefully as possible: before e news broke. “Mulry had chuckled with joy at he news of the engagement, But he s glum an owl when he of Gloria's illness. At length b‘:;l"u i oy, you've got to go an your upl»f:-h\v to be, or got to close the shop. Our h offices are howling for their i and we'v‘: got to p“llll ggwn ewhere or pull down *Go talk to Pierpont and he books. Show him the W’u :oin( to make in the he'll tide us over, Go on, come back with the bacon, or come back at all, B 2au would almost rather have ‘to the electric chair, but needs o Enn btzu devil 3rlveba. n he uquet and a big ledger a E;Sub'to flle»Shffori hon'le. d whom shi he meet .l"i e iers -by. And what should Pier- but, “I am here to tell you secret, Lois, Dick, here, is to Gloria. Don't tell any- ldip noimore self-control than p m'er. Freneau was disgusted er more than ever now. She great rm for Gloria. excuse sufficed for old Stafford, as she left she gave the sadly ten Freneau a look that said, “Oh, o, I won't_tell anyone, 'but I'll tell something.” hat vh_uw‘tt her eyes said, while said: “Congratulation to you I:F sure you'll be very happy. n heart fluttered still more n he broached the subject of the to Pierpont—broke to Pierpont leasant news that his new son- first ‘act was to borrow ney. He put it on a business ba- 'but Pierpont, like most other mil- ires, hgted to be sponged on and shook his head in answer to Fre- 's proposition. ; U was in a itiable plight. about to llinK s way in de- to think to rescuing of Gloria from the Indi- ns. 1 refused the money then, so | hat now—perhaps—well—I 5 t's true,” said Pierpont. “That s a way out of it. Your prop- on does not appeal to my busi- sense, but I can do this. i’ll pay double the reward with com- And | my d interest for five years. That square us up,” cau_smiled with a renewal of and Stafford wrote him an im- nt check. eatl thanked him, promised to mouney. and left the bouquet . As he made his way out Royce just coming down from room. Freneau hated the f Royce for many reasons. We ite people we have wronged. ed to ask how Gloria wa she was better, but n. . A curious look 1is face as he added: reneau, 1 don't like but ia loves you a 1y, but she dods. iar, ' Now, I'd rather than h Four rgrait of i . “BEAUTIFUL,” GROANED DR. Rge’CE. SH in the radiance of the new business plans. ' But his promise to Royce was put to the test at once, for that very after- noon, when he reached his apartment, Lois appeared there. She was heav- ily veiled, but Frencau's valet seemed to know her, He backed out dis- creetly. When Lois threw off the shroud her face was terrible in its resolution. ; “You shan't marry Gloria, Dick," she said, “You shan’t throw me over ~—not for her! You shan't marry her of all the people in the world.” ~ Freneau was tired of Lois and tired of interfyrence. He forgot to be gen- tle, He In:rhed. i “No? And how are you going to stop me?” did % ois' cold, hard answer bowled him over: “Even Gloria can't be so crazy about you that she would marry you if 1 were found dead here.” Freneau stared at her aghast. He could not quite be sure of her mean- ing till he saw a little phial in her hand. He leaped for it. But she dodged round his desk and put it to her lips. i “Don’t you come near me or you 1 wish you hadn't,” she cried. “If you take another step I'll swallow this.” Freneau had to temporize with the mad woman, He surrendered weakly and dropped into a chair, p “Listen to me, Lois,” he pleaded ‘I went to her father to borrow money. 1've got to have his support or go bankrupt. If I do that I'll blow brains out. Of course, 1 don't love Gloria. My heart is yours. But I can't marrry you. If 1 marry her she won't interfere with your love and mine, We shall be all the safer. If you love me, you won't ruin me. If you don't love me, give me the phial and I'll get out of your way.” Slhe lwn lsl lso mnnehl m('r‘odbcf jealously and’ longing, that she be- fi:ved Ki She made him swear that he spoke the truth, as if an oath or two meant anything to him. ' Then she suffered herself to remain his dupe, and he took her down to a taxi- cab, feeling sure that he was well rid of her, | g When she had gone he breathed more eagily. He even laughed. He had everybody working for him. His rival, Royce, was toiling to save Glor- ia's life. His ex-flame, Lois, was in league with him to keep up the de- ception. Gloria's father was lendig\! him money. He was plainly a chil of destiny. He was so reassured by his luck that he made a holiday with. Mulry, who had planned to start off at once on a round of the different cities where they had branch offices for the convenience of victims who lived far from New York, } . . . . . . Ignorance may be bliss, but it is not preparedness, Frefleau was blissful in his belief that Lois wus yuicted. He did not dream, nor did she, that David Stafford was now awakened. ~ When Freneau took Lois to the taxicab, she lowered her veil, but a veil is only a partial disguise at best, and it may attract attention, Neither Freneau nor Lois noted that a certain Mrs. She was a sort of , but in Freneau she had met her match, because she al- lowed herseli to be more. thrilled than thrilling. He had passed on without a long pause before her shrine, : Mrs. Coleridge had seen Freneau with Lois at various tea dances and she recognized Lois all the more read- ily for her veil. She was outraged in her . finest sensibiliti She felt it 1| her duty that Lois was punished. She . |.did not want to appear as a complain- 3 ‘ln( %er (witness, but righteous indig- tion carried her to.a large hotel in Tk, papar envelopes 4nd secteey,She , envelopes and secrecy. She dashi o& a little note to Dlv¥d ad- fi:flg ‘him-that his wife was show- f in! than he might aj ‘a certain heart-breaker. M_r':. ed to sign her name. e e T et o) () =i AIMED: “HURRY UP, In fact, she rather disguised her hand- writing, though this made little dif- ference, since David did not know it, anyway. She dropped the little letter into a mail box with the innocent glee of an anarchist slipping 2 bomb with a time fuse under a millionaire’s auto- mobile, The United States postoffice au- thorities carried the loaded letter to David’s office for her. He opened it and read it, but could not understand it, He read it again and understood it, but could not believe it. He was about to toss it in the wastebasket, where such mnu‘es belong. He read it again. It threw him into a black pit of agony and consterna- tion. Now, he could, but would not, be- lieve it.. He wondered who the “heart-breaker” might, be. He re- membered that Lois had been fond of Frenegu years before. He dis- missed this suspicion- with contempt. He loathed the letter. Only cowards and mischief-makers write such let- ters. He threw this one from him as if it were something unclean. Yet the anonymous poison gnawed away in his brain. He clenched and un- clenched his. hands and paced the floor, beads of perspiration dripping down his face. At last he fought it out with him self and decided that he would trust Lois till she was proved unworthy, However, the letter seemed to whis- K" to him, “A little test will do no arm.” Of course, Lois wae guiltless, but perhaps she had been careless of ap- pearances. It would be better to wait and rebuke the indiscretion when it oc¢urred. He had been talking of a trip south to a meeting of a board of railroad directors on which his fa- ther had placed him. It was not necessary for him to go. But he might pretend that it was ard tell Lois goodby and pretend to leave and then—, ' He dared not put the scheme into words. But he dared not let the chance go past to make sure. That evenihg when he went home Lois greeted him with her usual warmth.: Before he had quite® de- cided what to do he had told her that he was called south for ten days and | he had not urged her to go with him. | She did not ask to go. In fact, he thought that she took the bad news with just a little too much philoso- phy. He was tormented with shame and suspicion. he next day, when he went to his office, he bade her. goodby as if he were the criminal and she the saint. | He could not have imagined that Lois only waited his departure to fling on her hat and her veil and speed to Freneau before he should leave for his own office. d She found him and he gave her a cold welcome. When she told-him that David was to be in the far south for'a week, he did not seem to be interested. © When she rejoiced that now they could be together without the annoyance of David's presence, Freneau solemnly reminded her of the danger from gossips and servants. He must walk warily, now that he betrothed to a bank account like tafford's, - To this Lois made the astonishing answer that if New York was too full of spies, she would go elsewhere. She reminded him of a heautiful vil- lage in the Catskill mountains, and dec! it her intention of paying it a vis Iso she advised Freneau to happen there at the same time—his fiancee, Gloria, was too ill to see him, anyway, and he could give a business lrlg as an excus Frencau was indignant, but Lois was dangerous. She threatened him again with the awful weapon of sui- cide, against which there was no de- fense. He, realized that he was the u:edy of a kind of blackmailer. He 1ad once thought“of Lois as a con- uest to be proud of; now he saw q:n he himself was the victim and she the tyrant. With one rash act she could not only destroy herself but all Freneau's plans. . . . i in- he surrcndered. Surrender was becoming a habit. He made one condition, that they should take along the letters they had exchanged and | destroy them. He wanted no written evidence of his past to imperil his fu- ture. Lois consented, and hurried away, rejoicing. She left Freneau in black rage and remorse. The quality of his remorse was shown in his meditations He thought of the many women he had dealt with lightly, and he wondered if any more of them would arise fo threaten his security as a son-in-law of Pierpont Stafford, That very day the most pitiful of his conquests appeared. Nell Trask had learned from a newspaper that her father had been knocked down by an automobile and taken to a hospi- tal. She visited him there. His bodily injuries were not serious, but he was brooding so bitterly over Freneau that Nell began to fear for his reason. He told her that he had seen Freneau and had denounced him and Freneau had struck him in the face. Old Trask was not of the sort that con- ceals a family dishonor; he burned to avenge it. He whispered to Nell that he would reach Freneau yet and strangle him like a dog. She feared both for her own father and for the father of her dead child. She thought of writing Freneau to warn him, but that might only lead him to perse- cute her father. Perhaps if she begged him to marry her he would be rich enough now. She found out Freneau's address with little diffi- culty and appeared at his door soon after Lois had left him, in an ugly mood. The apparition now of so humble an incident in his past as the daughter of a bargeman was too dis- gusting to endure. When the valet opened Freneau's door Nell slipped past him and ran straight to Freneau. He could not even pretend the ordinary courtesies, He would not listen to her.\ He or- dered his valet to bundle her out and to take his own twoweeks’ notice. Nell had no more fight in her than a violet. Like‘a violet, she bloomed a mood of to be trodden on or plucked for a! moment and tossed aside, She drifted back to the shabby barge moored at the dock and waited for her father to return “home.” Freneau, raging and calling himself a fool, drove his arms into the over- toat his man held for him and left for his office, wondering whether he was to be compelled to close up the office because of the follies he had committed. He agreed that: flirta- tion was a poor business. All this while Gloria lay in her bed HOTE ASTOR tesidents of Nebraska tegistered at Hotel Astor during the past year. Single Room, without bath, $2.00 to §3.00 Double « §$3.00 to $4.00 Single Rooms, with bath, #3.00 to §6.00 all railway terminals. 5 S | By Mr. and Mrs. Rupert Hughes E WAS TOO HAPPY TO HEAR THE SORROW IN HIS VOICE. SHE MERELY EX- FOR H EAVEN’S SAKE, AND GET ME WELL.” ~ by the window °imagining that Freneau was pining away for her, hile she was getting well as fast as she could for him. Dr, Royce's treat- ment consisted mainly in keeping out of the way of nature, helping it, but not impeding it with drugs. Gloria was responding with all the rush of youth. He was glad of his succlss as a Ehysician, but he was miserable over her eagerness to get back to her romance, Once, while he watched her as she slept, he saw that she smiled. He was afraid he knew why. When her eyes opened and stared about hef room and at him in bewilderment he understood that she had come out of the dream realm. “Oh, such a wonderful dream I've had. I dreamed I was well—all of a sudden '1 hopped out of bed, and— presto, my clothes were on without all the trouble of buttons and hooks and eyes, and I floated through the wall and over the roofs and climbed down the chimney of Dick’s apartment house like a regular Santa Claus. “Then came out through the B —— Copyright, 1916, by Islea!}l radiator without even rumpling my frock, and there I found Dick so lonely™ and forlorn as never was. | When he saw me he nearly expired of | joy. | “Then I took him by the hand and .| floated with him through the wall and across the roof to the darlingest little church. The darlingest little minister tloated through the pulpit. and then— dog on it!—I had to go and wake up. But wasn't it a beautiful dream?” Novelized from the Motion Picture Drama of the Same Name by George XKleine. FEATURING THE NOTED STAR, MISS BILLIE BURKN. Adelaide M. Hughes. | “Beautiful,” groaned Dr. Royce. | She was too happy to hear the sor- | row in his voice. She merely ex- | claimed: “Hurry up, for heaven's sake, and get me well.” And, like a dutiful young physician, | he promised. But he wondered whether it was kindness or nog to | restore her to the world where dreams | do not often come true—unless they | are bad dreams. | (To Be Continged.) By JANE M'LEAN. Margaret was like hundreds of other girls carried away by the spirit of the times. She was determined to be in- dependent and she wanted her inde- pendence to glitter with romance and teem with excitement. In short she wanted to go into the movies. Now, if Margaret had been, young | and foolish her longing for excitement might have brought her much in the way of unpleasant experience. But | Margaret was fairly level headed and not easily carried away by affairs of the heart.” She was rather a striking Idoking girl, with a beautiful complexion and the well-groomed-appearance which is so obvious among the better class of New York girls. Therefore she had two assets in her favor toward success, and she was determined to try her luck. Margaret's mother was plainly wor- ried.. The idea of a daughter in the movies looked ratheralarming to her, but she did not oppose the matter when she saw that Margaret had made up her mind. She avas a tactful moth- er and said very simply: “If you make good in that field it is just as good as any other” | Margaret's mother hardly believed what she had said, but she knew her daughter very well, and was deter- | mined not to oppose her. Margaret herself beamed sponse. “Of course, it's a good field, moth- ler. T know that it must seem strange to you and dad, but every girl can’t teach school or learn to make hats. I want to do what I am called to do, and it seems that I simply must make good in the movies.” Down at the moving picture studio Margaret was only one of a hundred other pretty girls. The one thing that distinguished her from the rest was her daintiness, and the fact that she refrained from giggling a lot and talking in rapturous tones about the star. She looked like a girl who | meant business, and was in conse- quence one of the supers chosen for a banquet scene. “Four of the tallest girls at this ta- ble,” yelled the director from the end of the long room. “The girl with the hair, will you come up, please, your hair ought to register well; sit here, please,” and Margaret, cheeks flushed and breath coming hard, sat at the first table and ate make-believe dishes and drank make-believe wine to the click of the moving picture camera as the picture was filmed. “Your're a new girl here, aren’t you?” said the director, pausing by her side some time later. “Do you think you'll like the movies?” The man made the remark to be kind, and Margaret seized her oppor- tunity with both hands. “I know I shall like thesmovies,” she said promptly. “I have determined in re- / ————— Twe’hfiefh' The ' [deal Farm (entury 1 SG’Lrl Workers Who The Movie Actress Achieves Success Win |to make good. Will you give me a | chance?” “Never had any experience befere?” | “No, but we all have to begin some | time,” she answered. | “Well, T might try you. There's a |'small part in a picture we are taking tomorrow. You'll have to go in rags | and play a gray-haired mother.” The man was watching her nar- |rowly. He expected her to back out | gracefully, as they all did when they found that all acting in the movies does not necessarily mean a satin gown and a handsome lover. “I'll be only too glad to,” said Mar- garet promptly, “and thank you so much.” “Just a minute, young lady. I'm going to try you, and if you make up your ‘mind to stick you'll make good. The thing to do in this world is to choose a profession-and then sfick to it through thick and thin. If you think this is your proféssion, stick to it. You'll find plenty of people to help an earnest worker. All right, 9 o'clock tomorrow. Don’t thank me, just work hard, keep cheery and, above all, act naturally.” And Margaret walked home with her feet on the earth and her head in the clouds, sure that she could make good in the field she had chosen, Adwice to Lovelorn By Beairice Fairfax An Engagement Reception. Dear Miss Fairfax: My engagement re- ception will be held in a ball room of a hotel, from 8 in the afternoon until 6. Would 1t look well not to have dancing? Kindly let me know what is proper to wear, an eve- ning dress or an afternoon dress? And about my flance, does he have to wear full dress? Could I wear a hat in the ball room, and is it proper for me to carry a bouquet, or shall I only wear a corsage bouquet? V, B. Even In this modern day, when the world has gone dance mad, I think an engagement reception is much more dignified if there {s no dancing. However, let your inclina~ tions declde the matter for you. The ques- tion of propriety is not involved. * As a gen- eral rule the bride-to-be wears an evening dress’even at an afternoonf reqeption. With this 1o hat is worn. I think an armtul of flowers looks/rather prettier than a corsage bouquet. Your flance must not wear a full sult—tull dress is reserved for eve- occasions. Frock coat and striped trousers {s the regulation costume. Formal Dress for Men. Dear) Miss Fairfax: Please tell me the ; man D sty oL s wedding on Bunday at 4 in the afternodn? & H. E. Frock coat, striped trousers, patent leather shoes with cloth tops, wing collar and pale gray Ascot tie are the proper cos- tume for men on any formal afternoon occa- ons. So this should be applicable to groom, A-t man and wedding guests. aper Has the greatest farm paper circulation in its state. Reaches a greater per cent of the farm homes in a single state than any other weekly farm paper. ) Hag a greater editorial staff than any other weekly farm paper having less than double its circulation. : ¢ Unexcelled in its activity for the improvement of farming methods and making farm life more enjoyable and profitable. Maintains one member on its staff trained to assist automobile manufacturers in creating greater sales. 110,000 Copies Weekly Sample Copy on Request