Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1 J -r: * . - J * . r* J! '^ I ' - 1 r; A Story About an Ex periment With Life Q* By J E. OPPENHEIM .of the sunlit streets. . Louise led John conversation. Ire to-a small ear which was WaltlUgjln like a bear garden. I am hot sure If tW i^mu. ■ /,■ r- j theyfy will dnn/c here today, hut- Jff “The Cnflton*” she told the man, as they do, they will come also Jnto the f he arranged the rugsf. “And now/.’ she restaurant.” added, turning tp John, “why have you “Wise man!” Louise .declaVedi “I, colire'to I^pndon? How long ar-e you going to stay? , What are you going-to do? And—most Important of all—in whpt spirit .have you come?” . John breathed,, a little sigh, of' con tentment. “I/airne to see you/’ ho con fessed bluntly. M L JOHN STRANGEWEY- FEELS THE LURE OF LOVELY WOM- . AN AND IS UNABLE TO BREAK THE SPELL LOUISE HAS WOVEN Synopsis.—(>n a trip through the English Cumberland country the breakdown of her automobile forces Louise Maurel, a famous London le tress. to spend the night at the farm home of John and Stephen Strnngewey: At dinner LouHe discovers that the brothers are Woman- liating reddsw. Next morning .she discovers that John, the younger, bn,,tiirr, has recently come into a large fortune. In company-.with,him .-4ml. exploi t's' the farm and Is disturbed by. evidence of ids' rigid moral principles, ’"lie learns she Is a friend of the prince of Sayre, a rich and disreputable neighbor, tie girl’s memory. John goes to London. ■ Three months later, 'Unable to. Shake off CHAPTER V—(Corrtiriued.) —3— “You aren’t letting your thoughts dwell upon that.woman?” “I turn* thought about her some times.” John .answered, almost defiant ly. ‘•What’s The harm? I’m still here, am I not?” . Stejiheii crossed the room, Fnqirjhe drawer of the old mahogany Sideboard he produced an illustrated paper. He. turned back the frontispiece fiercely Had held it up.-— — —— —— “Do you see that, John?" “I’ve seen it already.” . Stephen threw the paper upon the table.- : "She’s going to act In another of those confounded ‘‘French plujw," he> said; "translations with ail the wit taken out and all the-^vulgarity left In.” "We knew nothing of her art,” John declared epldly/ / “We shouldn’t under stand it. even if we saw her act. There fore it Isn’t right for us to Judge her. TTW 1 world has found her a great ac tress. She is not responsible for the plays she acts in.” ... Stephen! turnf-d away and lit, M,s pipe anew. He smoked for a minute or two ftirioiisly. Ills thick eyebFows came closer and s eloscr together, lie, seemed to-he turning some over In his mind. "John,” lie asked, “is it this cursed nmney that is making you restless?" - "I never think of it except when someone comes begging. I promised a thousand pounds to the infirmary to-' day,’ T "Then what’s wrong with you?” John stretched himself .out, a splen did figure of healthy manhood.* HiS chet'ks wore sun-tanned,>Ws<eyes clear and bright. "The matter? There’fT nothing on earth the matter with me,” he de clared. “It isn’t your hpftTth I mean. Therfi are other things, as’ you well know. You do your day's work.and you take your pleasure, ayd you go.through both as if your feet* were on a treadmill.” "Your fancy, Stephen!" _ "God grant it! I’ve had an unwel come visitor in your nhsence." John turned swiftly around. 1 ‘‘A visitor?” he repeated. "Who was it?’* Stephefi- glowered at him, for a mo ment. ‘ ' "It was thOsorlnce,” he said; "the prince of-Seyre, as he calls- himSClfr ttuHigh he has the right to style him self Muster Of Haynham. It’s only his- foreign nlood which makes him choose what 1 regard as the lesser title. Y’es, thoughts, and for a moment lost con trol of himself. "Were,you thinking about that worn an?” he asked sternly. "What woman?” "The woman whom we' sheltered here, the woman whose shameless pic ture is orTThFmver of 'that book." John swung, routub on his heel. “Stop that, Stephen!” he said men acingly. ' , "'Vhy'^A&tild I?” the older man re torted. "Take up that paper, If you .'sq-lutUUoju* right and left with fhe tradf^people, with, farmer* brought Into toWn by the market,' with ac quaintances of all sorts and condi tions. More than one young woman .from lire shop windows or the pave ments ventured' to smile at him. and, the-few greetings he received from fhe wives and daughters of his neighbors were us gracious as they eouhl possibly lie made. John almost smiled once, in the art of raising his hat, as he real ized how completely the whole charm of the world, for him, seemed to lie In one woman’s eyes. " - r - At ’the crossways, whore he should have turned to the Inn, he paused while a motorcar passed. It contained a woman, who was talking t9 her host. She was not- In the least like Lou ise, and yet Instinctively he” knew that' she was of the same world. The per fection oT her white-serge costume, her spirit of it to me. In.you I see the em bodiment of my Then'se." Louise inrtde no movement. Her eye*, were fixed tipoii u ’cerffifri shadowy corner of the wings. Over- "Denr me I", she exclaimed, looking at him with a little smile'. "How down- ' right you are!” "The’truth—” he began. “Has to be handled very carefully." she suit], interrupting him.' "The truth is either beautiful or yyude,- and the people, who meddle with such a won derful tfdng need a great deal of tact. You have come to see nuCyon say. Very well, then, I will he Just us frank. would 4 wrought as she had seemed, with the emotional excitement - of her long speech; there was now a new.and curj- yus; expression upon her. face, Khe wa*C , have been hopll w,, tlmt you looking at a tall, hesitating figure that ; COIm> ?.* -► stood just off the stage. She forgot the existence of the famous dramatist who hung upon-her words. Her feet nm longer trod the dusty hoards of the theater. • She . was nlipost painfully, conscious of the perfume o£ apple .blos-j^, is'^Ur duty to.try ’to see u 'llttl SOID ' ' •**— of - life than you possibly thought wanf to read a sketch-of the life of Lonlse Maurel. See tin* play She made her name In—‘La Gloconda'i” “What about It?” Stephen held the paper out to his brother. John read a few lines arid dashed It Into a ,t;orner of the romn. “There’s this much about it, John.” Stephen continued. “The woman played that part night after night—played It to the fife, mind you. She made her reputation in it. That’s the woman We unknowingly let sleep beneath this njiof! The barn 4 s the place for her and her sort !” l John’s clenched’fists were held firm ly to his sides. Ilis eye*were blazing.*; "That**'enough. Stephen!” he cried. “No, it’s not r < c nbugh!” was the fierce reply." "The truth’s been burning In my heart long enough.. It’s bettek* out You want to find her a guest at Hayn ham castfe, do ymi?—Itaynham castle, where never a decent woman crosses the threshold! ’If she goes there, she goes— Well?”’ ' An anger that was almost pnrrilyz- 1 ing, a sense-of the titter impotence of words, drove John in silence fryin the room. He Ieft~tho house by fhe bhek- ' door, .passed quickly through the'.or- * chard, where the tangled moonlight lay liponMhe ground in strange, fantastic shadows; across the narrow strip of field, a field now of golden stubble.,; up the hill which looked down upon the farm buildings and the churchyard. He sat grimly down upon n bowlder, filled with a hateful sense of unwreaked passion, yet with a sheer thankfulness In his heart that he had escaped the miasma of evil thoughts which Stephen’s words seemed to have created. The fancy seized him to face half-veiled- suggestions of his The Whistle Sounded. The Adventure of Hfs Life Had Begun at Last. these brother,' so far as they concerned himself tind his life dhrlng the last few months. * Stephen was right. This woman who ! had dropped from the clouds for those *few brief. hours -had "played strange havoc with- John’s thoughts and his whole outlook upon life. The coming hnfsvr smartly worn, the half-insolent smile, the little gesture-with which she raised her hand—something about, her unlocked tin* floodgates.' Market Ketton had seemed well enough a few minutes ago. John, had felt a healthy appetite for his midday meal, and a certain interest concerning a deal in barley upon .which he was about to engage. And now another .worhi juul him In its grip.' He flicked the mare-with his whip, turned away frujn the inn, and galloped up to the station, keeping puce with the train whose whistle he had heard. Standing -outside was a local horse dealer of his acquaintance. ‘ * ~ .3# . "Take the mnre Imck for me to Peak Hall, will you, Jenkins, or send one of your lads?” he' begged, "I want to cutch this truin.” The man assented with pleasure—It paid to do a kindness for a Strahge- wey. John passed through the ticket o.fflce to the platform, where the train was waiting, threw open the door of a carriage, and flung himself into a coTnef seat. The whlstlo sounded. The adventure of .his life Iiad begun at last. CHAPTER VI. \ i: hecon/e a task v .„The echo of her half- , ,' . , • ' ' , '. . ’ ... y hanged the palm of his left hand with mnpL’inif nn lf.r*nnilf>mnn<r \v#inw 1 a — of harvest, the care of his people, his . , x . 4 - The groat Erench dramatist, dark, >ports, his cricket, the early days upon , . . . . , . . , • . . ,, . p.ale-foc<*d and corpulent, stood upon the grouse moors, had ail • suddenly *, "x,.— r .— . . . . the extreme edge of the stage, bran- 1, fe had ^ |ost their Interest for bint. dishing his manuscript in his hand. He A, 3 mocking, half-challenging words was always in.his ears. lie sat with his bead resting upon his hands. looking steadfastly- across the. valley hi-low. Almost at his feet tny:ThlJ little church with its grave-, yard, the long line of stacks and barns, the 4nhorers’_ cottages, the bailiffs house, the whole Tittle colony around, which his life seemed centered. The summer moonlight lav-upon the ground almost like snow. Ho could see the sheaves of wheat standing up in the mosfdistant of the cornfields. Beyond >\as the dark gorge toward which ho •had looked so ninny nights at this hour. * Nv. N Across the viaduct there came a blaze of streamlug light, a' serpentlike trail, a faintly lieanl whistle—the Scot tish express ofi its way southward toward London, Ill’s eyes followed it the rolled-\ip qianuscript-and looked at them 'all furiously. "The only success I care for,” he thundered, “Is nn artistic success!" "With Miss Maurel playing your leading part, M. Gralllot," the actor- maimgef tleelttred, "not to speak of a company carefully, selected to the best of my Judgment. I think you may ven?. ture to anticipate even that.” The dramatist bowed, hurriedly to -Iconise.— - - '—;—:———^-r ‘Tou recall to me a fact,” he said gallatiTTv,"'•“which almost reconciles me to this diabolical travesty of some of i iny lines. Proceed, thetj—proceed ! I will he as patient as i»ossible.” The stage manager shouted 4»ut some “1 ou!” she exclaimed, stretching out her hands. "Why do you not come and speak to me? I am here!" John came out upon the staged The French dramatist, with his hands be hind his hack, made swift mental notes of an interesting situation. He saw the coming of a man who stood like a giant among them, sunburnt, buoyant with health, his eyes bright with the wonder of his unexpected surround ings;.a man in whose,presence every one else seemed to represent an effete and pallid type-of hunmnity. Those first few sentences, spoken in the midst of n curious little crowd of strangers, seemed to John, when he thought of his long walling; ntnibST plt- eously in:i(le<|uat»'. I.Otiise, recogniz ing the “difficulty of the situation, swift ly recovered her composure. She was both tactful and gracious. "Mr. Faradqy.” she said appealingly, "Mr. Strangewey cornt>s from the coun- JlLy—he is. In fact, the most complete eoubtrymari I have ever met In my life. He comes from Cuiuberland^and he once—well, very jiearly saved my life. He knows (nothing about the aters, and fie hasn’t the least Idea of the importance of a nhearsal. You won’t mind if we put him Somewhere out of the way till we have finished, wtn your* -—' - • - •—— "After such a-n intFuiluctlon,” Fara day said In a.tone of resignation, "Mr. Strangewey would be welcome at any time.” * ! , "There’s a - ‘dear man-'!” Louise ex- claimed. "Let me introduce him quick ly. Mr. John Strungewey^-Mr. Miles Faraday. M. Gralllot, Miss S<)phy Jle- "rard, inv particular little friend. The prince of Seyre you already know, al though you may not recognize him try- lng to balance himself on thht aitsurd stool.” John bowed in various directions, and Faraday, taking hiin^noiLnatii red ly by the arm, led hlm-to a gardeWsciit ^at the hack of the Stage. "There!-” he said. "You are one of the-most privileged persAn«-hvLondon. You shall hear the finish pf our re hearsal. There Isn’t Ui pres«! nmn in, London I’d have neaf the fflirpe.” • Twenty-four hours nvliy from his silent hills, John looked out with puz zled eyes from his dusty sent among ropes and pulleys and leaning, frag ments of scenery. Whrit he saw and heard- seemed to him, for the most part, a meaningless tangle of gestures and phrases. The men and women Jii fashionable clothes, moving about be fore that gloomy space of empty, audi torium, looked more like marionettes than .creatures of flesh and blood, drawn this way and that at the bidding of the stout, masterful Frenchman, who was continually mutt^ng excla mations and hanging the manuscript ujmn his hand. It seemed like a dream picture., with unreal men and women moving about aimlessly, saying strange words. Then there came a moment which brought a tingle into his blood, which plunged his senses Ipto hot confusion, lie rose, ta his feet. It was a play which they were rehearsing. Of course! It was a damnable thing to see Louise taken into that cold-and obviously unreal embrace, but it was Only a .pltji,. It was pnej of her work. John resmued his 'sent and folded his arms. WitlMhe embrace had fallen’ ru' and the' rehear- “Y'ou can’t imagine how good it Is to hear you say that,” he declared. "Mind,” she went on, “I have been hoping It for more reasons than one. You have come to realize. I hope, that e more of life than you possibly can. lending a patriarchal existence among yonr flocks and herds.” They were silent- for several ino 1 moirts^ . ... . * - "I thought jam would cpnie," Louise •ndd at last | "and Inm glad, hut "even in these first few" minuTes-J, want to say something to you. If you wish, to l — renJlj: understand tin* people you ijiee.t here and tin* life they lead, don’t be like your-brother—too quick to JiuJgC. I>o not, hug your iirejiidiei's too tightly. You will cotm■—across mapy problems, many, Situations which Twill seem strange to you. Do nptinnke up your mind about anything iu Ai hurry.” V1 .„. "I Will remember-that." .he promised. "You must Temember. though, that I don't eXjjrpet ever to become a convert. I believe I am a countryman, bred and born. Still, there are some things that I want to understand, if I ean,~ and, more than anything else—1 want to see you!” She faced his direct speecl) this time with more deliberation.'. "Tell me exactly-whv."- "If I could tell you that," he replied I simply. should, he able to.answer 1 for myself the riddle which has kept l ine awake, tit night for weeks and months, which hus puzzled pie more than anything else in life has. ever done? zz"You really have thought of me, -then?” "Didn’t you always know that I should?” "Perhaps," she 'admitted . "Anyhow, I always -felt that we should meet again, that you would conn* to London. The problem is." she-added, smiling, "what to do with you now you are .here.” . i "1“ haven't come, to he a nuisance.” he assured her. "I just want a little help^froin you.. I want to understand because it Is your world. I want to feel myself nearer to you. i want—" -^She gripped bis arms suddenly. She knew widl enough that she had delib erately provoked his words, hut there was a look ia her.facg^iilmosf"of fear. “Don’t let us he~.to.o - sertttus all at once,” she begged quickly. ‘TT'-yaip have one fault,.""my dear big friend from the country,” t she went on, with too, hate the babel outside. “We are' fac'd,” said the prince, ns he took up the!menu, "with our dally problem; What can I order ^or \y«u?” “’A* cup’ ol 1 cho?olate r ’’ Louise replied. "And Miss Sophy?” “Tea, please.” ■■* ’’ — John, too,, preferred lea ; 'the prince ordered absinthe. "' V ' “A polyglot meal, ^ isn’t it,/ Mr. StrnngeWcy?" said Louise, ns the/order was executed; “not In the least what that wonderful old butler, of yours would'“understand bT ten. Sophy, ppt your hiit on* straight if' you. want to make a good impression- on Mr. Strangewey. I am hoping that you two . ' will he great friends.” Sophy -turned toward John with a little grlmtjce. X “Louise IsTo triet less!” she said. “I am suTeJBriy idea you might have, had - of liking me will have gone already. Has It. Mr, Strangewey?” "Dn the contrary.” he replied, a little ■stiffly, but without hesitation, “I was thinking that Miss Maurel could scarcely have set meji more pleasant task." 4 \JTln? girl looked reproachfully ucross at her friend.. “You told me. lie came from the wilds iMliDwiis quite unsophisticated!" she exclaimed* ' ; "The truth,” John assured them, looking with dismay at bis little china cup, "conies very easily To us. We are brought upon it in Cumberland." "Don’t chalter too much, child," Lou ise said benignly. "I want to hear* some more of Mr. Strahgewey’s im pressions. > This is—well, if, not quite a fashionable crowd, very nearly sol What do you think-of It—the worn— en, for Instance? 1 ' — "Well, to me,” John confessed can didly, “they ull look like dolls^or man iklns. overshadow / " . "Their dresses and their hats faces. They seem Yin imaginary cur sal was over. They \yere.!all crowded together, talking, "in tliVoeDter of the stage. The prince, who had stopped across the footlights, made hls^way to where John was sitting. So -fi m have deserted Cumheribijd “You Aren't Letting Your Thoughts Dwell Upon That Woman?” » i ■ . '■ .r*rTl he called to a-sk .you to shoot aiuKstily at the castle. If you would, from the sixteenth to the twentieth of next month.” - .* ' . - 7“W hat answer dkl~vou irive liim?” ^ “I told him that you were ywur own muster. Y’ou must send word tomor row." "He did not mention the names of any of his other guests, Y.suppose?” ‘ “He mentioned no names at all.” John wus stlent for a moment. A in faultless morning clothes. Who seemed to have been thoroughly enjp’y- Hmf-.fsi.Ldit. He found himself filial*-' lutHhe interlude, suddenly adopted th ing of tlV'passengers who would wake puppetlike walk of n footman, other the next morning in’ London.^ He felt Jl^Y ors » been whisiierifig himself suddenly acutely Conscious of his-IsolaHon. Was there not something almost monastic in the seclusion which directions from ids box. A gentleman f ur ] 10 courteously inquired ^ “I came tip last night," John replied. “London.!at this season of the year,” the prince-observed, “Is scarcely at its, to gether In the wings, came buck..lo'ttieir phicesr Loiilse ndwinced alone, a ilttliT!- langublly l to the front of tlie stage. , At the first sound of her voice M. Grai!- lot, nodding h’is head vigorously, was soothed. Her speech was n long one.; It had bccomy a .passion “with Stephen, amd which had i.ts grip, too, upon - aim— a waste,of life, a burying of talents? C He. rose to his feet. The half-formed . .purpose of weeks field hlfn now T defi- Appeared that she had been arraigned se )f; Clin<l secure. He kn4‘.\v.,thnt this pil- before a company <»f her relatives, as 1 * ‘Tou yije n very wonderful person, [ languidly of the most;indolent meal ol -griniage of his to the liilltop, his rapt semhled to comment upon her mi's- TsifTStrangewey." he declared. “11in V e day. Ea-ou the broad passageway ^ ‘ — —- — J -- - ' t ^ - * — best/ John auiiler "I rim afmfd;" he said, “that T am not-CrHlcadr Tt is i^ight years since I wns here last. I have not been out of Cumberland" during the whole of that time.” The prince, after a momen.’s incred nlous. stare, “I Want to Feel Myself Nearer to You. T I Want—” a swiftly assumed ^gayety, “It is that you ipv too Serious for your years. Sopliy and I between us must try to cure you of tlia.t ! You see, we have [•rived.” handed her out, followed her ncrosfKilie pavement, and found him self pi linked into what seemed to him to be an absolute vortex of human be ings, all dreske(L4n very much’ the same fashion, alFltuighlng and ‘talking together very much In the same note, till criticizing every fresh groy|i of ar rivals with very much thK same eyes their all tlie time to he wanting to show, not * - themselves, but what they- linve on.” They all laughed. Even tl\e prince's lips were parted by the flicker of u smile. Sophy leaned across the table with a sigh. "Louise." she pleaded, “y >u will lend him to me sometimes, won't you? Y’ou won't keep him altogether to yourself? There are such a let of place* to take him to!" “I wns never greedy," Louise re marked, with' an air- of. .self-satisfac tion. "If you succeed In making' a favorable imjHOsslon upon him, I . promise you your share.” , "Tell us some more, of your Impres sions,-Mr. Strangewey,” Sophy begged. "You want to laugh at me," John protested good-humoredly. “On the contrary,” the pr'nce as sured him, as he fitted a cigarette into- a longV amber tube,’ “they want to laugli with you. You ought to realize your value as ,a companion in these days. You are the only person who cun see the struth. Eyes and tastes blurred with custom perceive so little. Y’ou are qujte right when you say that these women are like manikins; thrit-, their bodies and faces are hist; but one does not notice it until it is point ed but.’L . . • J’We will revert," Louise decided, “to a more prlniitlve life, Y’ou and I will inaugurate, u missionary enterprise, Mr. Strangewey. We will judge the world afresh. We will reclothe and re habilitate It.” „ The prince flicked the ash from the end of bis cigarette. "Morally us well as sartorially?" he asked. There was r moment's rather queer silence. The music rose above the hubbub of voices and died away again. Louise rose to her feet. The prince, with a skillful maneuver, made his way to her side *is they left the i*es- tauraiit. "Tomorrow afternoon, I think yon said?" he repeated quietly. "Y’ou will be In town then?'* ^ . - "Y’es, I think so,” "You have changed your mind, then, about—” ' - "M. Gralllot \vill not listen to my Leaving London,” she interrupted rap idly. . “I-Ic declares that it Is too near the production of the play. Mv own part-may he perfect, hut he neyds me- for Hie sake of the others. He puts it'like a ••Frenchman,.of course.” They had reached the. outer door, which whs being held open for them by a bowing Commisslonpaire.' Join and Sophy werelwaiting upon (he pave ment. The prince drew a little back. “I understand,” he murmured. r A •• ■fcL 'A John finds himself in the midst of new city adventures, and he succeeds in captivating more than, one handsome woman of the stagfe world. which hart become so dear to him, was in a sense vaH«lictory.-'^T-~T • * - • t ■' • After all, two more months passed before the end came, and It came then without a moment’s warning. It wa* • * (TO BE CUNTINULD.) -4 ■ . - » The Squirrel Dog. There Is no accounting for that un canny faculty that enables a homely, long-legged, sad-eyed pup to go un- rringly to*a lofty oak tree In whose lgher branches a bit of animated rown fur Is secreted. Another dog of lhe SaTue'or more prepossessing np- I . | ^ ate appeal to her_ husband, Mr, Miles. any service to you during your about and talking of looking for tables, tfot unconcernedly past that shme^oak and mnnnef. Tire palm court/ was laughed softly- to him- •! crowded with little parties i ! the various round tables, partal rttertST'-qq* wwmd or. will, a-fnkAKioB. •p win j ; r H #;-T«iir.-Irtto < l-^omiiM'.*' If l can }futl-*of men.turd womei^y^ .it*, nr.ru.nl to her hushnnd. Mr. Miles . i. i y 0ur 1 "L>..t nnU tulUin^ of look inn for ta! politely, Faraday, who had rnude an uiu^xpect-ed stnv In town,” he ridded appearance. M. Gralllot s face, ai^ she “pipn.m* command me.” cujK'Iuded, was wreathed in smiles^ “You are very - kind," John replied ‘‘AhTYfae cried. "Y’ou have lifted,us gratefully. all up! Ndwr I feel pnee more thejtt itwllllrtlllf ftljnr* had taken hold of Wm. Supposing she w'ere to be there? slowly through the streets of Market hand,” he went on. a little past midday when John drove *pif»lAail»«iMadeinolselle, 1 kiss* your Tt ts you who still Louise broke away fropa the llttle x group and came across toward them,, “Free at last Y? she exclaimed,. "Now Stephen, watching him. read his Ketton in his high dogcart, exchanging redeem my play.. You. bring back the let us go out and have some tea." ne could scarcely hear the nutrile of t r p e without so much as a casual sniff. But not io with the real "squirrel dog.” He'd* pick out the right tree In the densest grove a hunter ever penetrnt- Qi tne orchestra for the ,babel of voices. The prince of Seyre beckoned to them from the steps. He seemed tp have been awaiting their arrival there—a cold, Immaculate, and, considering his ack ’ of height, a curiously distin* led-looklng figure. ed. And If that squirrel started leapt lng from tree to tiee, that dog -would' follow it over & square mile of tim ber. "