The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 6, 1904, Page 2

l(é This is the second in- stallment of “To-Mor- row’s Tangle,” for which The Sunday Call paid L1000 for the exclusive Western rights. If you read the thrilling drama- tic prologue last Sunday vou will be fully pre- pared for the intensely human developments of | nd the three in- tallments to follow. Indeed “To-Morrow’s Tangle” is not only the hest California novel in | vears, but one of the very | best creations of the past | several seasons. this i BIPLSEILRINEE. . S NEL BT ST s th ack- ¥ the r g bay window ess of the with many F t € full of the costly £ n any city eces of buhl and . et parlor and ine cabinet tall, ole brought York when h of good times 10 Mariposa at the time, and hen the little Mari- ¢ musical tastes. She ces” on it, and riod when she had ng lessons, had heard the b st slowly shaking paniment of its g in single tones, gher and higher, Her voice was a the middle, ting, bell-like nit gained a ality which on and tears. t was noticeable hough full, were tounding volume dently a big voice, ise, but now crude She em loud vibrant note that led re y between the four walls, £ if in an effort to find more space d, and her hands fell the room opening off was an uncertain play an unseen fire, and a lying on the sofa. To addressed a query in a ich dejection was wvelled by ry: s it seem to improve? Or is it still like 2 cow when she’s lost her calf " “It's wonderfully improved,” came the answer from the room beyond; “I don’t think any one sings lke you. Anyway, no one has such a powerful voice.” “No one howls so. you mean! Oh, mother, do you suppose I ever shall be able to take any more lessons?” “Oh, ves, of course. We are in a large city now. Even if you don’t make enough money yourself, there are often people who become interested in fine voices and educate them. Perhaps you'll meet one of them some day. And anyway—"" with cheerfulness caught on the upward breath of a sigh— “you'll make money enough soon yourself."” Mariposa's head bent over the keys. When she came to view it this way, her $16 a month did not seem so big with promise as it did when $10 for rent was all it had to yield up. “I've heard about those rich people who are looking for prima donnas to develop, but I don’t know where to find them, and I don't see how they're to find me. The only way I can ever at- tract their notice is to sing on the street corner with a guitar, like Rachel. And then I'd have to have a license, and I've got no money for that.” She rose, and swept with the gait of a queen into the next room. Her moth- er was lying on a sofa drawn closely to grate, in which a handful of fire ckered Lucy was still a pretty woman, with a thin, faded delicacy of aspect. Her £kin was singularly white,especially on r hands, which were waxen. Though ve and happiness had given her back h, her health had never recov- 1 her child’s rude birth in the desert and the subsequent journey across the Sierra. She had twined round and the man whom she had called nd with his loss she was king out of the world his i le sweet for her. Her ughter—next in adoration to the hero 1 succored her in her hour of had no power to hold her. wly fading out of life. The wledge of this. Her had been a semi-invalid for sev- and her own youth was so superb vigor, that she did not the elder woman's gradual de- tality. But the mother knew, hts were wakeful and agon- thought of her child, left and unfriended riposa sat down on the end of the t the invalid's feet and took one Syhe had loved both pa- but the fragile mother, imple and unworldly, so dependent on affection for her being, was the ob- ect of her special devction. They were silen the girl with an abstracted fixed on the fire, meditating on of her voice; the mother re- ier with pensive admiration sat thus, a footfall on the steps outside ~ broke upon their t ights. The cottage was so built t r ts conveniences was that could ¥s hea® the caller or the with the bill mounfing the steps he yang. The former were rarer than the latter, and Mariposa, in whose isit from apy one was of value, pricked up her ears Alwa less life a pealed stridently and the ser- uld_be -heard rattiing pans in n~evidently preparatc Presently she came creak »or opened a ard asking for the ladies. It was a visitor. Mariposa was glad she had stayed in that afterncon and r hand still clasping her " craned her neck toward the a tall, thin woman of 40 years, her fashionable dress telling of many a wrestle between loy personal adorn and a lean 1 condition ofqth: band porting perate and galiant courage elf and her child, who was one of pianc pupils. Her appearance to the real force a ry of the we wh and rebuffs had fought her with a smile on her lips. Her apj e and manner, e pecially in this, h against her. Tt and overdressed na effusive. th funeral plur on one side of her ¥ veil was drawn over a complex carelessly made up. Her and so tight she ! and when did they ing creaks. wa were emitted € would thought antly stylish get-up porter and “special Shackleton’s newly acquired paper, Morning Trumpet! But in reality was an energetic and able journalist. It was only when adorned with her best clothes and her “society” manners that she affected a sort of gushing silli- ness. “Well,” she said, rustling in, “here's the lady! How's everybody? Just as cozy and cute as a doll's house.” She pressed Mrs. Moreau's hand and then sent an eagle glance—the glance of the reporter that is trained to take in every salient object in one sweep— about the room, She could have writ- ten a good description of it from that moment's survey. “Better? Of course you're better,” she interrupted Lucy, who had been speaking of improved healith. “Don’t San Franeisco cure everybody? And daughter there?” her bright tired eye rested on Mariposa for one inspecting moment. “She looks nice enough to eat.” “Mariposa’s always well,” said Lucy, pressing the hand she still held. “She a prize child ever since she Mrs. Willers leaned back and folded her white gloved hands over her creak- ing waist. . “You know she is the handsomest thing I've seen in a coon's age,”, she said, nodding her head at Mariposa, “There ain’t a girl in society that com- varc to her” their beauty out of boxes and bottles. There’s a lot—I don’t say who, I'm not names—but there's lot that when they go to bed the beauty all comes off and lies in layers on the blame them—make compliments. to her, and she regard- Willers—despite a few pecu- style—as a woman of vast swledge and experience in that won- derful world of gayety and fashion, of which she herself knew so little, “T go to most of the big balls here,” continued the visitor, £ame thing on The Trumpet—'Send up Mrs. Willers to the Cotillion Club to- we don't want porter but her, Not that I Af as goodlooking as It's every woman's But you don’t want to begin so young. I rouge myself,” said Mrs. Wil- lers, with the careless truthfulness of one whose reputation is beyond attack, “but I don’t like it in a young girL"” prettiest girl at the ball?” said Mariposa, deeply interested. y of seventeen on subjects of which her girlhood had been unusually barren. “My dear, T'll tell you all that later— talk for an hour if you can stand it But that's not what I came to say to- day. It's business to-day—real ness, and I don't know hut what all your future hangs on it.” She gave a triumphant look at the startled mother and daughter. the introduction of serious matter her worn face took on a certain sharp in- telligence and her language grew more masculine and less slovenly. “It’s this,” she said, leaning forward “I'm not sure that I haven’t found Mariposa’s backer.” ‘“‘Backer,” said Lucy, faintly, findh the word cbjectionable. “What’s that “The person who's to hear her sing and offer to educate the finest voice “It's always the “Who was the If vou send up any of those other jay women we'll turn 'em So up I have other night at the Lorley’s big blow- when Genevieve Lorley had her old war-cry—We want Mrs. Willers to-night to do the Society, and don't try and work off any incompetents on wus. Send her up early so's Mrs. Lorley cen give her the dresses herself.’ S was in the dressing-room for an hour and saw 'em all, black and white and brown, heiresses and beggars, afid not one of 'em, daughter here—not one.” “But there are so many beautiful girls in San Francisco. seen them on the cars and down town. She often tells me of them.” “Beauties—yes, lots of loads of 'em. But there's a lot that-get She had the curio: such subjects: it wus the So up I went, and impressively: Mariposa has o s THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL TOr'10PD WK A : TANGLE v ewerarone Bovep he's likely to hear in the next ten 0sa gave a suppresed exclama- tibn and looked at her mother. Lucy had paled. She was trembling at what she felt she was to hear. “It's Jake Willers, proudly launching her bomb- shell. “Jake Shackleton,” breathed Mari- posa, to whom the name meant ‘only .vaguely fabulous wealth. “The Bo- nanza Man Lucy was sitting up, deadly pale, but she said nothing. “The Bonanza Man,” said Mrs. Wil- lers. “My chief.” “But what does he know of me?" sajd Mariposa. “He's never even heard of me.” “That’s ‘Where you're off, my dear. Jake Shackleton’s heard of everybody. He has every one ticketed and put away in some little cell in his brain. He never forgets a face. Some pecple say that’s one of the secrets of his success; that, and the way he knows the man or woman who’s going to get on and the one who's going to fall out of the pro- cession and quit at the first obstacle. He's got no use for those people. Get up lEd ‘hustle, or get out—that's his “But about me?’ Mariposa entreated. “Well, it's a quebr story, anyhow. The other morning I was sent for to the “SWE NEVE. - T BETTEE sanctum. There was a little talk about E then he sa you tell me your piano lessons, o word you say. daughter was taking 1 told him ‘Isn’t her teacher e father died a ta Barbara? that Miss Moreau, ves again, round on the swivel chair, looks 5, from under his eyebrows, and I knew her father once; how odd,” quivering with inter father speak of him as a long time ago. your fathér up in the mines some time in the fifties, and he said he admired him considerably. and asked me a lot of questions about you, your circumstances, lived, and if you were as.good looking He said he'd heard you accomplished young Then I saw my cue and I said, as care- lessly as you please, that Miss Moreau had a fine voice and plenty of musical ability, but unfortunately was not able to cultivate either, because her means were small, and it was a great pity scme one with money didn't help her. I says—just as casual as could be—it's a great shame to see a voice like that lying idle for want of tuition.” “What did he say then?"” sald Mari- breathed Mariposa, “I nev-r heard as your father. “Well, that’s the point I'm working He thought a while, asked a few more questions, and then said: ‘T'd like to meet the young lady and hear It goes against me to have hter lack f thing. Her f d have left tune if he hadn’t been a man tHought of every one else befor: Any dau Dan Morea him as father exactly. He m him wel Mother, s Wha lid twice a W now . white- that career “Good gracious sald Mariposa, whose cheeks wer n , “1 never heard anything so iting in my 1 and we were just talking about it. 1 probably sing like a dog baying the moon." “Den’t you talk that way. You'l sing your best. And he’s not a ma that you wouldn't like Mariposa to meet”—turning to the pale and silent Lucy. “Whatever other faults he's had he's always been a stralght man with w n. There's never been that sort of scandal about Jake Shacklet There's a story you've probably heard t he y a Mormon. I don't belleve r k He had, anyway one wife when he entered California, and she’s been h wife ever since, and she ain’t the k non: e of the Lucy a sudden gasping breath and sat T ght of the gra afternoon s ng outside, and b the glow of the fire her unusual pal eable 200d of you,” she sald. be glad to go.” was not ¢ It was ver Mariposa wi And me, too?" satd Mrs. Willers. “H 1 about you.” Did He s 1 ever known me?” No- No, 1 don't believe it he was inter- ested in you as the wife of the man he'd known so 1 . “Of course ¥, murme king back aldn’t be ssible. I'm n “Oh, mother, do it on the cars sometimes r-street line i ere. I know there No, Don't, § n't talk an omething s mada party. 1 Only one other pers a man refer ne. At th rs shot a sid a, who did wh tisplaying a It was de pitality should take t} and cake. There ws: about other and lesser v finally an animated discussion as t proper garb in which Mariposa present herself to the first tr tinguished person she had ev During the conversation ov varied ns Lucy Iz her sunk in silence. Darkness had fallen when the g having threshed out the last grain, took herseif off. Marip looked from the open doorway into a black street, dotted with the yel blurs of lighted lamps. The air was cold with that penetrating marrow searching coldness of a foggy evening In San Francisco. As the night swa lowed Mrs. Willers, Mariposa shut the door and came rushing back. “Mother!” she cried, before she got into the room, “isn't that the most thrilling thing? Oh, did you ever know of anything so unexpected and wonder ful and exciting. Do you think h like my voice? Do you think he really could be interested in me because he knew father? he can’t have known him so well, or father would have said more of him. Did vy ever hear father speak about him? The mother gave no answer, and the girl bent over her. Lucy, motionless and white, was lying among her cush lons, ungonscious. biect CHAPTER It THE MILLIONAIRE. “And one man In parts. speare At 2 o'clock on the aftgrnoon of h party, Mrs. Willers was giving the ishing touches to her roor Thes were a sitting and bed room in one of the large boardine-houses that already had begun to ~nearance along Sutter st Sutter street, a pressed it, was Mrs. Willers, w in such ignomini Beach and. upp ing the su plus r families.? Her : sno lized street. Her p over-furnished b furniture « grations had be little roow ¥ umbrellas, .atie x with pins, were accumulated at cost, for they represented one of th strange and unaccountable garies popular taste that from time to time seize a community with blighting for Silk scarfs were twisted about every- thing whereon they could twist. The “lunch,” as the hostess called it had already been prepared and stood on a side table. Edna, Mrs. Wi daughter, had made many trips up and down the st 1 is time plays many its compor home in p ladies in t lower win Juse had beer aware of these goings and comings, ar so were partly prepared . when, at luncheon, Mrs. Willers casually tc them of the distinguished guest she ex- pected. The newspaper woman had not lived her life with her eyes shut and her ears closed, and she knew the value to the fraction of a hair of this infor-