The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 5, 1905, Page 3

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY A WIIKL/ D el 3 cold regular features, might have [ bad all the blood of all the How- This is the second instaliment ards in her. Mrs. Lent had a dark piquant Franco-American face, ! Miss Carter was very small, very dig- nified h large cool intelligent gray ndant yellow hair and an and upper lip. All had the and generous development leg peculiar to the Cali- The men interested looked very ordinary and he wondered if not dispose of them an epigram. 1 intermittently with t: they did not hit it off. he wondered if it could ng he ad met in the for- She still wore regal air and d have looked cold as one of fine marbles in drawin ad it not er lavish coloring. he took little part in the general con- of “A Whirl Asunder,” the well known novel by the famous Cal- ifornia authoress, Gertrude Ath- erton. “A Whirl Asunder” will be completed on next Sunday. wome he! ths, ick A. Stokes & Co.) ted Olive into a fitted in , and ng Neither mont nor her aunt was present roduced Olive to the as- with running footnotes room, silken st the ocean. her ests ded for the ear of the subject ve to Miss L rd —presenting ( scornful-loc out reputation Marter—a clev is a joy to flirt Franci se u know she is too s versation, and he love with y M said to her ab- who has done ruptly: ¢ Sa ** These eople " w N terest you.” talent for marr “Im~ tired to h husbands. death of them. I'll who plays better than turn them all out presently. I bought this place to be near the redwoods, which I love better than anything in the world, and I like to entertain by fits and starts. I spent last winter here alone.” “I should like to have known you then. When you' get time to think about yourself you must be a charm- wh ow with a voice Miss West, who a prude and a Here comes the honor of s t ing egoist. DS S, Chapin. “You have the most impertinent 1 lady- 1 tout. tongue and the most flirtatious eyes “Where is the man you are engaged “Up at Shasta and the to lava beds. ot irmatel A% X He will be back in a few days. You es with her, she re- Will like him> ntle breeze which he a good fellow? : ssly in, < with friendly enthusiasm; awfully good fellow.” “You don’t love him, though.” Her lashes half met—a habit they No,” she said, “I don’t believe ena! Helena!” cried Rollins. . e, 1 feel it my duty to tell you that she is.engaged, and for the fif- teenth time* He has been telling me that I am not in love @ith Mr: Van Rhuys, and timating tfat he has come just in e to save me from a fatal mis- k She looked ‘charmingly impertinert, her eves half closed, her chin lifted, her pink lips pouting from their classic lines. Clive was somewhat taken aback, but replied promptly, “If I disclaim it is from timidity, not lack of gallantry: I fear I should learn more than I have the power to teach.” Everybody laughed. Miss Belmont's ves sparkled. “You mean,” she said, en the attention of the others was once more diverted. “‘that you are not going to fall in love with me. Every- body does, you know. I never mind 3 ng myself with beautiful because I am much more fas- g than anv of them.” 1 am hopelessly unoriginak but I make & gdesperate effort this Why do you say that? You look e unlike any one I have ever seen; I mean quite a different person looks out of your eyes.” Her own eyes had A y speculative regard devoid of ry, Clive’s masculine vanity med. You read a great deal I hear,” he “What an extraordinary way you e of ignoring what a person says you. Are you absent-minded, or deaf, or merely impolite?” “Merely an Englishman.” M Belmont’s color deepened. Clive’s eyes invoked a ridiculous pic- ture of a stately young chatelaine kicking and struggling in an English- man’s ari do the people of your country e in being rude? ey don't. They don’t bother trifies like the men of several that is all. I'll. open door for you when you leave the room and even take off my hat in the lift and catch a cold in my head, but n’t expect me to find a reply to all nsense a woman chooses to talk, ore interesting subject occurs to g B a ““Are you very haughty and super- cilious, or are you very shy? “What does that mean? “I mean that you were flattered to death by what I said, and changed the 5 a girl would blush or good “I suspect you are right.” He rose all over let her pass. His eyes laughed 1 hers, and she felt the sud- nt of a child when it is no- by a person of superior years d stature, E an has the most charming ver saw,” she said, as the oom door closed behind the “I don’t believe they ever could be sober.” “Just observe his lower jaw,” said Mrs. Volney, with her infantile lisp. CHAPTER VL When the men left the dining-room they found the women in the patio, or scattered about the corridor. There was no moon, but the clear sky blazed with stars and colored lanterns swung you eserve the character of the 4 Californians h no taste about = interiors—w between the pillars or among the o broad leaves of the palm-trees. The girls (the married women were little more) had thrown lace or silken scarfs over their heads and fluttered their fans idly. Clive recalled all he ifornia out here as we ca ke to import something e casionally There were eigh teen people at The conve ASUNDERZ > DYy, > 27/ 7z ,///Ilm A 7 i/ Il | had read of the old time and imagined himself back among the careless dons and donas who lived for little but pleasure, and had not a prescience of the complex civilization to enter their Arcadia and rout its very memory. Miss Belmont was sitting in the corridor, leaning over the low balug- could not understand, but which was the most passionate he had ever heard. Her head was thrown back. She sang frankly to Clive; her face changed with every line. ‘When it was over Mrs. Cartwright breathed a plaintive sigh. “That’s the handsomest song that Helena sings,” she announced. trade, her hands lightly clasped. She 2 k- had draped a white lace mantilla _Helena arose abruptly. Come, about her head, and looked more she said to Clive. “Let us go for a walk.” He followed her out into the rose- garden. There were no lanterns here, and it looked wilder than by day. The air was very warm and sweet. Helena plucked one of the pink Cas- tilian roses and fastened back her mantilla with it, exposing a charming ear. 4 Spanish than Miss West. It seemed to Clive that she had a faculty of looking whatever she wished. Some one handed her a guitar. She leaned against the pillar and tuned it ab- sently. Clive walked over and stood staring down on her, his hands in his pockets. She sang in a rich contraltoc voice a Spanish song, whose words he CALL. “You will never find any occupation 80 becoming to your hands,” said Clive dutifully. “Are your feet as perfect?” They went out on the terrace. The said Miss Belmont flippantly. They went out on the terrace. The ocean’ pounded monotonously, tossing spray high into the air. Clive looked at his companion. Her head was thrown back, her lips slightly apart. She looked like a woman who held a ball of fire between her finger-tips and toyed with it caressingly. “Shall we walk along the cliffs?” She hesitated a moment. “No; let us go into the forest.” As they entered they were greeted by a rush. of cool, perfumed air, the scent of wild lilac and lily, the strong, {f bracing odor cf redwood and pife. For a hundred yards or more there was lit- tle brush; the great trees stood far apart; but as they left the plateau and ascended a narrow trail, the young redwoods and ferns and lilacs grew thick. It was a hard pull and they said little. He helped her up the al- most perpendicular ascent, over fallen trees and rocks and huge roots spring- ing acrcss the path lil pythons, and wondered if they w penetrating wilds hitherto sacred to the red man. Presently the low roar of water greet- ed them, and pushing their way through a small grove of ferns they came upon the high bank of a broad creek. Beyond and around rose the dark, rigid forest, but into the opening the stars flung plentiful light. They Each Week for the Best——— P JT/?G/—.- revealed the clear rapid rush of water over huge stones and logs that looked like living things, great bunches of maidenhair springing from dripping boulders, the dark, mysterious per- spective of the creek. Clive did not wonder if he woyld lose his head. He had no intention of keep- ing it. “Sit down,” she said, arranging her- self on a fallen pine and leaning against a redwood. Clive made him- self as comfortable as he could and she gave him permission to light his pipe. The lace mantilla, in spite of brush and briar, still clung to her shoulders. She looked very lovely and womanly. “Why did you bring me here?” he asked. “You told me the other night that you would never trust yourself alone with me. This is equivalent to saying that you want me to make love to you. I am quite ready.” “How brutally abrupt you are. I don’t want you to make love to me. I meant to tell you before we started that I did not expect it. Most women do, I know, and it must be such a re- lief to a man to be let off occasionally.” She opened and closed her large fan, with a graceful motion of the wrist, ;.;:d then turned and looked straight at m. “I have never walked alone with a man in this forest before,” she said; “neither at night nor in the daytime. It would have been spoiled for me if I had.” He pulled at his pipe. “You are a very brave woman. If what you say is true, what is your reason for bring- ing me here?” “I felt a desire to do so, and I always obey my whims.” “You know that my vanity is touched to the quick. But will you tell me why you are doing all you can to turn my head if you don’t want me to make love to you?” “I do want you to.” Clive laid down his pipe. “No! It would be a pity to let it go out, and it might set my forest on fire. Do let me finish. Women are not like men. A man is fascinated by a wo- man, and his one impulse is to get her, and without loss of time; a woman may have the same impulse, but the dislike of being womn too quickly, the desire to be sure of herself, above all, the wish to make the man more serious —all these things hold her back. So I don’t want you to make love to me to- night.” “Which means that I may later?” “I don’t know. That will depend on a good mary things, one of which is whether I break my engagement with Schuyler Van Rhuys or not. I have some slight sense of honor.” Clive colored hotly, and for the mo- ment his ardor left him. ‘“Are you thinking of breaking it off?” - “Somewhat.” “Is it true that you have been en- gaged fifteen times?” _ “No; only eight. I have not yet dis- covered that there are fifteen interest- lx:g men in the world. I have only met nine.” “You can flatter charmingly. But you say you have a sense of honor. ‘What would you think of a man who deceived and jiited eight girls?” “It is quite different with a man; women are so helpless. But when a woman has the reputation of being fickle, men know what to expect and propose with their eyes open. As a matter of fact, there is not an atom of the flirty in me; of coquetry, perhaps, for I have an irrepressible desire to please the man who has pleased me. To most men I am clay. I am doing all I can tg fascinate you, and I shail continue to do so. I engaged myself to each of those eight men, honestly be- lieving that I could love him—that I had found a companion. If I ever suf- fered the delusion that any one of them was my grande passion the delu- sion was brief. Still, I gave up all idea of that some years ago. With each of those men I set myself honestly to get into sympathy, and to love him. Of course you will understand that I had been more or less fascinated in each case. If a man not magnetism for me, he might have every other quality given to mortal and he would not at- tract my passing attention. Well, I could not find anything im any one of them to get hold of. One cannot love a clever mind, nor personal magnet- ism, nor a charming trick of manner, nor a kind heart; nor all. There is something else. One hates to be senti- mental, but I suppose what those men have lacked is soul. Our men don't seem to have time for that. It isn’t in the make-up of this country. Perhaps I haven’t it; but, at all events, I have a mental conception of it, and know that it is what I want.” Clivé puffed at his pipe for a mo- ment. “Are you talking pretty nonsense,” he asked, “or do you mean that?" She turned her head away angrily. “You are just like other men,” she said. “I have always been laughed or stared at by every man I have ever had the courage to broach the subject to. I was a fool to speak to you. It is two or three years since I let myself go like this.” “I am not laughing. It is a very se- rious subject; the most serious in life. Girls and men and minor poets are al- ways prating of it, but it is a good subject to keep quiet about until you understand it.” “Don’t you think I understand zbout % o “I think you will some time—yes, 5 certainly. And you had better mnot marry Mr. Van Rhuys.” “We are so new,” she said, leaning her elbows on her knees, her chin on her clasped hands. “It is as if the Al- mighty had flung a lot of brilliant par- ticles together, which cohered symmet- rically, and so quickly that the spirit- ual essence of the universe had no fime to crawl inside. I stayed here last winter by myself trying to solve the problem of life, but I only addled my brain. I read and read and read, and thought and thought and thought, and In the end I feit sadder, but not wiser.” 3 “You can’t find it alone.” She flushed and he saw deepen. “Then Schuyler Van Rhuys turned up, and I concluded that the best thing I could do was to go to New York and cut a dash in the smart set. And he is such a good fellow. perbly if there were a war; he would carry me safely out of a mob; he would always be kind, and in a manner companionabld for he is well up on af- fairs and current art and literature. I should like you to knew him, for hé is one of the best types of American you will ever meet. But—there is nothing her eyes else. And I am the stronger of the two. There's nothing as solitary as that.” “Don’t marry him. You have no ex- cuse—at your age and with your brain. ‘Wait until you find the right map, even if it is a million years hence.” “Oh, I've heard that—" She paused abruptly. “It isn't like you to talk exaggerated nonsense. What did you mean by that last?" ‘“What I said.” Her lip curled. “You don't mean to say that you belleve in a life after this—you.” “Why not?” “Well, do explain.” “I don’t see why any bellef of mine should interest you.” “But it does. Tell me!™ “This is not my hour for lecturing. T'd much rather talk about you.” “Oh, please don't be runhumanly modest. Go on, you've roused my cu- riosity now, and I will know what you. think.” “Very well. Not being an unreason- ing oyster, I believe in a future state. Not in the old-fashioned business, of course; but if a2 man has ever thought, and if he has had two or three genera- tions of thinking ancestors behind, him he hardly believes that the scheme of creation is so purposeless as to turn people of progressive development loose on one unsatisfactory pifne, only.” Clive spoke rapidly when he spoke at length, but paused abruptly every now and again, then resumed without impuision. “What would be the object? What the meaning? Everv- thing else in the scheme of creation has a meaning, leads to something de- finite. * * * That is the signifi- cance of the lack of soul you search for in a race.of men that have not yet had time to develop it—who are yet surely progressing toward such a con- summation. * * * On this earth it takes generations of leisure, of art, of literature, of science, but mainly of individual thinking, to develop the sub- tle combination which puts man in re- lation with the divine principle in the universe. The pre-eminent develop- ment of England over all the other na- tions Is as indisputable as it is nat- ural. What would be the object of such mental and spiritual development if this incomplete life of ours were all? We go on afterward, of course; as- cending by slow and laborious evolu- tion, from plane to plane.” “And about the other thing? You believe that in one existence or an- other vou meet the person who satis- fies you in all things—your other part?” “Perlaps two in a century meet in this existence. But most of us don’t— in centuries. Perhaps millions of cen- turies. Time is nothing. Your man may not be born here for several cen- turies—but you will find him some time. And when you do, you and he will become biunial—ome In a sense that I believe passes all understanding here—except, perhaps, that of the one or two fortunate ones of each century or so. * * * The ancients had some such idea when they took Eve out of Adam.” Helena rose and went to the edge of the creek. She stood there without speaking for ten minutes, kicking the stones down into the water. Then she turned about. “I have always looked upon that sort of thing as poetical rot,” she satd; “be= neath the consideration of any one of the higher order of intelligence; proba~ | ably because in this country, particu- larly in this State, everything except religion, and sometimes that, is enveloped fifteen times over in vulgar and mercenary fraud. Even well writ- ten treatises on such subjects have never Interested me—my American in~ tolerance of anything which cannot be demonstrated, I suppose. But If a man like you belleves it makes one think™ She came and sat close beside him ony the log, her gown brushing his feet. - “It is true—" she began. “This 1s hardly fair, you know,” said Clive. “What?* “You know as well as I do. IfT am not to make lovs to you—and in a way you have placed me on my ho: and sit at the other end of the log.™ “Pshaw! After what you have just said you should be above such things.”™ “I am not a spirit yet, please remem- ber. And I am not by any means so 4 hold of you.™ : Helen went back, He would fight su- captured a few moments’ at- tention, but the swWung talk soon triamphantly back personalities. haed mever seen SO many pret- women togeth- or two autiful. black- the of er's hair, 3 olive eves suggested In- dian_ ane guish ted, but there was & New England meagerness about her mouth. Miss Leonard, with her cendre hair - and (3 ;mmmmmm as principal- out other peo- . ANNOUNCEMENT. Pa;:;j?fl”yfi For the purpose of encouraging California and Western writers, by offering a consideration for short stories equal to that paid by the best magazines, and for the purpose of 'bringing young - and annm writers to the front, the Sunday Call announces a weekly fiction con- test in which a cash prize of $50 will be paid each week for the best story submitted. There is no secticn of America more fertile in ma- terial for fiction or more prolific in pens gifted to give spirit to_the material at hand than is California and the West. Therefore the Sun- day Call offers $50 for the best story submitted each week by a West- ern writer. Stories of Western life 2nd Western characters will. as a rule, be given the preference. but all strong stories, and especially strong stories by new writers, will reccive careful consideration. Each story will be judged strictly upon its literary merit. Type- written copy is the easiest to read and will receive the first consider- ztion from the editor. but do not hesitate to send a story in hand. writing if you cannot afford to have it typewritten. Fiity dollars in cash for a story of not less than 2500 words and not more than 3500 words ‘is approximately $17 per- thousand words, or 1.7 cents per word. The highest price paid by the for the work of any but the very best writers is two cents a word, more often one cent and a half, and generally cent. With the majority of magazines the writer, after his cepted, is compelled to wait until the publication of he is paid, a period of seldom less than six nine months to a year. The stories accepted in SHORT STORY $ 50 SUNDAY CALL to her former poe 3500 words in length. The length of the story must be marked in . Dl 5t plain figures. I : comes ym‘;' In the selection of stories names will not count. The unknown e it writer will have the same standing as the popular author. not you at all. You jity As one of the qbiects of the Sunday Call is to develop a new corps anut:hwfiMnomrhm&rms&phwflhm If a story earns ion-it will be well worth the writer's name. nw Stories not accepted will be returned at once. Those selected will be published one each week. ' v mnless accompanied by return postage. 7 Vilk paper = name and address legibly om e %fi EDITOR OF THE CALL. T L