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* fa? byMP.^MRS'.l Novelized From the of the Same Name Copyright. 1916, b: SYNOPSIS. Plerpont Stafford, banker and railroad magna;*. with his sixteen-year-old duughter, Gloria, is wintering at Palin Beach. Gloria is a vivacious but willful young mtuy who cnuies umier ui? icsiminum hand of a governess from whom she repeatedly escapes. Hit childish capers cause young Doctor Royoe to fall In lovo with her. She steals from her room at night and in an auto plunges into the aurf where she leaves the car. Becoming lest in the everglades she falls into the hands of the Seminole Indians. She is rescued and returned to her father who had offered a reward lor her return. Gloria falls in love with her rescuer, Freneau. Five years later she leaves school and meets Frenoau at the theater; his attention having boon occupied with her sister-in-law he has forgotten Gloria. Gloria feels that her one dream is shattered. Later Frencau persuades her to forgive him. Gloria's sister-in-law, Lois, becomes Intensely Jealous and Doctor Hoyce discovers in her an ally to assist in thwarting Freneau. Doctor Royoe warns Frenoau that there Is another woman besides Gloria: Frenoau goes sleighing with Gloria without her father's knowledge. It results in pneumonia for Gloria, whose family becomes incensed at Frenoau when they learn the truth. Royoe Is summoned to alleviate Gloria's suffering. Froneau's finances being low he approaches Pievpont Stafford for a loan. Doctor Royoe again warns Fteneau of bis conduct. But Lois, learning of Freneau's betrothal to Gloria, threatens him with dire punishment. Her j husband, Gloria's brother David, becomes! suspicious: lie plans a trap for his wife Freneau driven to desperation by !,<?'?* threats agrees to spend a week with h?*r 1 in tlie Catskills. He plans to have Mulry send Gloria a bunch of telegrams. Lois' husband threatens to kill a man. After Freneau takes leave of Gloria she sees him when lie trocs to moot Lois. Doctor Royce convinces hor that what she has seen is tho result <>f delirium. 1 .ator n toleerram, followed by a letter, comes from Pronenu. She rcpl'e*- but her teleirratns are returned. The first mornin?r she is allowed from her room, she accidently sees 4U.X nnloIJA -x I.Vonoon %*?. t V? < ? ? ?- r?%: |??K1. ? our im *?* . icuvuu * ? iv. * In the paper. NINTH EPISODE The Shadow of Scandal Pitiful fnto plnyefl on Gloria. She had ordered her wedding gown while she was dangerously ill. Put now her bridegroom would not appear. The j newspapers sttid that he was drowned In the lower hay. She believed she had seen him throttled to death on River-j side drive, and her mourning was embittered with doubt. v** At such an Incongruous moment the little bridal gown came home from the dressmaker's to torture her with its beauty and its futile intent. Gloria was in her bedroom, looking out of her window at the fateful monument below, living over again the scene of the murder. With the pathetic droop of her head., nml her arms hanging at her sides, and the long lines of her gown sweeping' about her inert, almost lifeless form, she stood like a Tnnagra figure of l*plof 1 i 111 o emil clin umu 111 u ti V I I Vv ?? un JU^l entering the real world of womanhood when the grim arms of tragedy infolded her! It was her lirst great sorrow. Her old nurse en me toward her. Gloria moved, gave u little moan of horror, and ran t.? put her head on the ' nurse's breast, sobbing out her pent-up agony. "It enn't he true! 1 rnn't bear it! It's too horrible. A week ago he was alive and happy. Now he?oh, I'll go mad if I think about what he is now!" r "There, there, Miss Gloria," the1 nurse importuned her. "Try to keep your mind off your loss as much as you ran. Think of your father and your brother and how much they need you. That will help you." A knock was hoard at tlie door and the nurse went to it to admit Doctor Itoyce. Ills heart contracted with quick pain at sight of his idolized patient's distress. Gloria sank into a chair and made a brave effort to stille - I^K2E1^^HHHB9I cio5v? n "How Did This Come Here?" her cries, gritting her teeth together and wringing her hands, hut in vain. The doctor prepared a sedative und held it out to her. "Take this, dear child; it will quiet your nerves." But before the words were finished who had brushed the glass from his band. rnkW5\ MIPEOT mats'! Motion Picture Play i by George Kleine f Adelaide M. Hughe* -i don't want your opiuii% Stephen; bore is only one medicine for my pain. ami that is revenge. Will you help me to that ?" He shook his head sadly. Struck with a sudden memory, Gloria pulled i him toward the window. "I saw him murdered and you told me it was delirium. Why?" "You admitted It yourself when you received his letters and telegrams," j Koyce answered hastily. "Hut I don't believe that now. And > 1 don't believe that you do either." Royce winced at this. "It was too much of a coincidence,"! continued Gloria. "I am not a child i any longer, Stephen, and though this tragedy has nearly unbalanced my mind, I am still able to think and rea-l son. Why, If this hn<l luippeued n llttio later I wonhl huv? boon his wife." Ifer lips trembled liko a hurt child's nnd Koyco turned his bond away in pity. "If I wore his wife I should not sit idly by and lot tho demon who took his precious life go scot free, should I? Should I, Stephen?" Koyco was silent. Gloria went on: "I am going to :i< t as though I wore his widow in reality, as 1 am in heart. 1 shall g<> to the police." Koyco started. "And tell them everything. Will you help mo?" "I will do anything I can. Gloria, but lirst we must consult your father." Doctor Koyce was dumbfounded at the now Gloria he had to face, and to save from monsters she know nothing of?the juggernauts of scandal and publicity. lie determined to confer with Mr. Stafford at once, and descended the stairs to find I'iorpont in his library. Koyco told Mr. Stafford things which amazed and horrified him. and when he hud finished he said: "I did not I want you to know any of this as lonjj as I could keep it from you, Mr. Stafford. There seemed to ho nothing for you ij do and J felt that you hadt enough on your shoulders as it was. 1 do not know if 1 acted wisely In keep-, ing you in the dark so long, hut now that Gloria wants to go to the police with the matter I had to tell you so that we could keep her from It and save an Investigation that would ruin your son's wife and bring horrible notoriety to our innocent Gloria. Whoever it was that killed Freneau, be must have had his reasons. He has made good his escape. Incidentally he has saved Gloria from marrying a scoundrel. I could almost thank him for that. But we must never let Gloria know Freneau's unworthlness; it would leave too deep a scar *on her fresh young heart, ruin all her ideals and kill her faith in humanity." Stafford gave Koyce his hand. "How right you ure, Stephen. You are a great and a noble friend to her and to my children. Gloria will get over her lover's death. She would never recover from the knowledge of his treachery. Yes. we must save her from that. May God help me to suve David, too." After P.oyce had left her Gloria wont to her dressing room. Her maid and the nurse were unpacking a largo box. They tried to conceal it its she came in, but she commanded them to give it to her. It w<is her wedding gown. Clasping the soft shining robe to her h^art with a tittle cry. she motioned ( them to leave her alone with it. Then she sank to the lloor, clutching it in her arms. She pressed her lips to the satin folds and cuddled its heauty to her check. As she fondled the precious lace in her fingers, she visioned herself In the gown. She was standing at the altar with Freneuu by her side; all the friends of her world were sitting in their pews behind her. To her rapt ears came the organ music swelling into the wedding inarch, as with her head erect and her heart high she came hack up the aisle on her bus-; hand's arms. The dream crumbled and the girl woke to the truth with nothing left of j her dream hut the irmvn in U<?r 41 im?io ! Slip kissed It reverently, and laid it. away in Its box, as in a coflin. Then hor tears vanished and her eyes hardened with resolution. She went down to the library, where she found her father pacing the floor in deep meditation. 1 Gloria ran to him and put her arms i about his neek. "Daddy,' she spoke determinedly. "Have you notified the poliee yet?" IMerpont was fully prepared for Mils. He shook his head, j "Why not, father? You must, or I will, at once." "Gloria, we can't tell the police anything. If they learned that you were engaged to Freneau, the house would be besieged by detectives and reporters. What evidence have you? Nothing but the Imagination of a delirious j girl. If you told them of your de I ' - T Itrtum you would only stir up a scandal. It would have no value In court." Gloria stared at him incredulously, but he went on vividly to convince her. "We should be laid open to enormous j publicity at once. There would he headlines In all the papers about you every day. 'Gloria- Stafford Involved In Fronenu Mystery'; 'Secret Engagement of Heiress Just Discovered'; 'Gloria Stafford Claims She Saw Frenenu Mur: dered*; 'The Beautiful Daughter of i I'lerpont Stafford?' " I She groaned. "Oh, don't, father; ? can't hear it." But Stafford continued Inexorably: "You could never leave the house nor enter It without a dozen cameras being focused on you. The police would swarm the house, demand all your pffvate correspondence with Freneau. If | you refused them anything they would use force and I should be powerless to help you. And what the police get the reporters get. Do you want your love nnd your sorrow given over to the gitssips? Now do- you see why we cannot set the machine In motion? I have only one desire, to protect your reputation. If you want to protect Freneau's, you will keep silence. Promise?" Gloria was convinced, at least for the moment. She nodded her head in obedience, kissed her father's cheek, patted him absent-mindedly, and left him. But once alone again she burned with resentment at the plan to shield the murderer of her lover. She respected her father's dread of publicity and she shared bis hatred of publicity, but she would not relinquish -her demand for .lustice. She realised, how- j ever, that she would have no help now in her hunt for the murderer. But tills only strengthened her determination. Alone she would unravel the secret. knot and bring the guilty to pun- , ishment. Meanwhile Lois, in her own passionate way, was suffering also, but her, suffering was tinged with a certain amount of horrible satisfaction. Death, msronci or Gloria, had taken Freneau 1 from her. Gloria could not claim one smallest pari of him from her now. He had never cared one atom for Gloria; he had told her so. It was for financial reasons alone that he had intended to marry Gloria, hut she could not buy him now. Freneau had been struck down in his youth and strength by some fiend, hut he was hers, hers in death as he had been in life. Neither Gloria nor her own husband, I>avid. could ever take him from her now. Lois went to her dressing table, took from a locked drawer her open bag, and drew from it the silver-framed photograph of Freneau that she had stolen from Gloria. Staring at it longingly, she kissed it, then, pausing with anxious jealousy, lifted it from its r 1 She Dreamt She Was Stan frame and read the inscription on the buck : "To Gloria, my only love, with all my heart. Dick." Lois recoiled from the words ns If they struck her la the face. Then, turning the? photograph toward her again, she gazed at it searchingly. Suddenly she smote it with her clenched -list and threw it from her. Ihit at once, with swift revulsion of feeling, she knelt and clasped it to her hosom again, bursting' into dry sobs and misery. She was Interrupted by a knock at the door and tin* warning voice of her mil id : "Miss Stafford is calling, madam." Lois was startled. She rose and slipped the photograph between two volumes in a hook rack on a 1 utile and called to her lnuld: "Show Miss Stafford up here." Hushing to her dressing table, she hastily ran a powder puff over her face and brushed hack her hall*. 11*1. ..I. A..... 1 1 A. 4 A \> ikmi sue uirneu 11 was in eoniroin Gloria clad in heavy mourning. For a moment the sight of the crape stung Lois to jealous frenzy; next she determined to make some excuse to wear black herself. She felt that she had a better right to mourning than Gloria had. Advancing, she kissed Gloria's cool cheek, mumbling: "How are you, dear? Do you think you ought to be out on | such u cold day?" f | "Oh. ye*." answered Gloria listlessly. "I thought a drive would do me good. 1 just dropped In on you for a moment." Tutting up her furs, Gloria wandered aimlessly ubout the room, then sunk Into a chair by the table. The women eyed each other with constraint. Neither wished to speak first of Frenenu. Gloria noted the haggard mien of Lois with wonderment. Casting about for something to say, she fumbled with the books on the rack. The picture of Frenenu fell out. The blood pounded In Gloria's heart and spread a quick flush over her face as she picked It up. She turned it over and reud the inscription. She asked bewtlderedly: "How did this come here?" Lois, controlling herself with difficulty, tried to speak. "Was It you, then, who stole it from my room?" Gloriu hurled the question with so*- lips and glittering eyes. With a desperate inspiration Lois explained. "Yes, I stole it. I was going to surprise you with it. And then lie died." Gloria was touched, ami believed as impulsively as she had suspected. Throwing her arms about Lois, she embraced her. "Thank you, dear; It was wonderful of you to think of that. You are so very thoughtful. I must go now." She slipped into her coat i in spite of the protests of Lois, and t i left her. She took the photograph with ! her, and Lois dared not protest. * Far away In a Colorado town lived a woman who after all was most to lie affected by Richard Frenosiu's death, j I for she had given him more than do- i ria with her .voting girl's heart or Lois with her guilty love. Site had given him hirvh. In a quaint, old-fashioned sitting; room the venerable, sweet woman was sitting in a rocking chair before the I tire. On her mantel wore portraits of Freneau as a child and as a man. She , put down her knitting and rose with some difilculty. Clinging to the man- ! tel. she took down one of the photo- , graphs and. turning it. read in thebeloved handwriting: "To i\jy darling I mother from her adoring son. IMck." She kissed the photograph and carried it hack to her chair. An elderly maid brought in the miming paper and si few letters, which the mother ran through eagerly. Find-I ing none from Dick, she shook her finger reprovingly hut affectionaiely sit! the photograph* she then leaned hack in her ehsiir to glsiuce csirelessly over the pit per. Almost immediately her eyes lighted on the headlines siimeuneing her son's death, with si hint of snleide. The ....j "v , ding at tho Altar With Freneau. ' shock of the news almost killed the mother; for she was old and Dick was I ! her only child and she knew only tho | good side of hitt^. The <?vll that lie' wrought in the world was mercifully j kept from her. The maid, hearing her moan, ran out of the house and summoned the ; ! doctor wlfo was caring for her. He saw that her disease was the incurable one 'that mothers are often prey to. the J 1 loss of their children. There was no remedy for this in the doctor's hooks and the only help he could give was to answer her one remaining wish that her son's body should be brought home 1 to be buried in the family plot where his father lay and where she hoped soon to rest. ! The doctor telegraphed the mother's request to Freneau's partner. Frank Mulry, who took steps at once to comply. Thus if was that CJlorla was deprived even of the sad satisfaction of following her lover to the grave. Her chief enemies were those who loved her best, Stephen Royce and her own father. They, would do everything ! thev eonld to tlnviirl hnr Wlmti wlw? learned of his mother's wishes her first impulse was to go to Colorado herself, hut that impulse she quickly put aside; for her most important duty was to find his murderer, and that search she must start at once. Plerpont Stafford felt a deep resent! ment ^Kjdnst^the world for its treat? r.ient of his children. lie had won and held a position of power in the flnunclul world. lie had made millions of ! dollars and he controlled moie. yei j his son was married to a worthless woman and his daughter mourned the death o.f a blackguard. He could not hay happiness for htv children and his own success watherefore worthless. His whole sonl rose In revolt. Ill* son would have to win his own way out of his inesli; he was a niun. But his daughter, his Gloria, must be helped out of the shadows and hack into the light. Stafford could hardly think of Freneau without wishing to kill htui over again with Ills own hands. It was unthinkable that his girl should he allowed to wear Ills engagement ring and mourn for him. Yet It was a delicate matter for a father to handle. He could not bear to blast the fresh Innocence of his daughter by n recital of Freneau's wickedness. He felt also that her loyalty would not permit her to believe evil of the dead man who was now unable to defend himself. The whole situation was intolerable. He went to Gloria's room, finding her as he had expected, brooding by * 1 ?.? 1 ** ? nit- vt immw. ne took nor in nis arms ami clasping her hamls found tliey enfolded a picture of Freneau. Anger mastered him ; he took the photograph from her, saying: "1 wish you would put that out of my sight and out of your life." Gloria stored up at him In amuzement, tears trembling on her eyelashes. Then she gently disengaged the picture from his grasp and hugged it to her breast. "Why do you hate him now? What do you know against him? How can you he so cruel, so unjust?" lMerpont uneasily avoided her gaze and shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. Gloria put her hands pleadingly on his shoulders and he tried to take her In his arms again, but noting the engagement ring on her band, he froze. Then, with determination in his tone, he commanded; "Take it off!" Terrified, Gloria snatched her hand away from his arm ami shook her head, moving swiftly away from him. ; I'ierpont followed and clasped her hand. Pointing to the photograph accusingly. he said : "Hveryone will ask who It Is you are | engaged to. You are n??t engaged to him any longer. I insist on your removing that ring." Gloria protested. Plerpnnt stood Inn. She studied him anxiously. He reiterated his demand. She refused. Rallied in his coercion, the old man began to plead. She was all he had. He was old and heartbroken. He could not endure the sight of her in black. 1 He was Jealous of the dead man's hold on her heart. Pity moved her as fear | could not. To comfort him she yielded. She drew the ring from her linger, dropping it into his outstretched palm. He cllltclliwl it Willi '? ui?rl//kf Coll..# - .?.??? II iM^li U| I i ll* I and put il in his waistcoat pocket. At the finality of this Gloria's cheeks flamed with remorse. She ran to him. helping for it again. IMerpont only held her off with his ripht hand, took out ids watch with his left, and said: "It's time to dress for dinner." At this moment Burroughs entered with a black dinner gown on her arms for'Gloria. IMerpont motioned it away. "No. not that. Burroughs! Bring Mi ss Gloria a bright gown. Black is not becoming to her at any time. You understand me. Burroughs?" The maid nodded a respectful "Yes. sir," and withdrew to the dressing room. She presently re-entered hearing a gown of brilliant turquoise blue, festooned with garlands of varicolored flowers. Gloria shuddered. But iter father nodded his head approvingly. "That's it. Now I shall have my own little beautiful girl to dine with me." lie left her. Gloria studied the blue gown for n moment, then snatched it from Burroughs, threw It on the floor in wrath and hurst info tears. The maid was at a loss. She pon-1 dered. then went again to the dressing room and brought forth another gown. "Ilere, Miss Gloria, dear, here's your little black tulle dross with tlx* gold and black brocade bodice. Mr. Stafford won't mind that and you'll feel better in It. too." Gloria pat ted Burroughs on the I Shoulder tenderly., "Yes, that \vi 11 have 1o do," she murmured sorrowfully, and she let the maid dress her. Then she went slowly down the stairway. Her father met her and they entered the dining room together. The table, laden with Its laee and| silver, was alight with candles; the! butler was waiting; a man stood be-! uS&B Royce Told 8tafford Things Which Amazed Him. hind each chair. Seating themselve H ? Icrjmnt tool; up his cocktail glass anH lifted It to drink to Gloria, who plekeH up her own glass with a faraway loo'H Suddenly, it was as if Frenenu stoo'H beside her. She Imagined he was pu l ting his cheek close to hers to si H from the same brim. So vividly dlH she feel his presence that she gave A startled j*n*p and pat down her glas?H ller father half rose: "What is il W-ney? You look as pale us a ghost H Gloria shivered at the word "ghost,rH bat summoned a smile to reassure bin H "It's nothing, dad. I'll he all light hH a minute." And raising her glasH again, she put it to her Hps. H The butler at the serving table hancjH e<l the soup plates to the second mat I who conveyed them to Gloria's side. <H Plerpont chatted Jovially to enflc I Gloria to a cheerful mood. She trie<l to he gay with him, but her hearH would not respond. She tried to eafH ^ w m I H Sobbed Out Her Pent-Up Agony. H but fond was (listasteful to her, andH dropping i 111?> reverie again, -doH seemed to s?-o Frownu as she had s<H often soon him, enter the room aiuH greet her. H Again the vision became almosiH real; it was as it' he put his ar:i-H about her and embraced her, then hciH eyes fell to Iter left hand, which theiiiH engagement ring had adorned, and irH nakedness rebuked her. She seem < Ml to see the look of anguish and rrfl proach on Fronoau's face us he tooliH account of Its absence. M She put her hands before Iter face? Piorpont looked ni? unxiously, thcifl wont to her side. She shivered with iS chill. 'Tin sorry, daddy, to spoil youil dinner. Please lot nio go 1<> my roonil I'll pull myself together after a Idtfl It's Just a lit of nerves. No, don' come with me; I'm all right. Finistfl your dinner, dear; don't mind at all? I'll be all right." I She dragged herself wearily away? from him and on up to her own room I She threw herself down upon the her? moaning: "They've even taken your? ring from me. () Dick, Dick, conn? hack and help mo." fl (TO BIO CONTINUED.) I NEW DISEASE IS ANNOUNCEtl From the Strain of Working Too Hard? Comes "Angina of Effort," I a Pain. I The rush of modern life has pro-? d 11 cod a new disease, greatly increasing? in extent and especially prevalent? among doctors, teachers, clergymen,? lawyers and other men of affairs, oh-H serves the Philadelphia Bulletin. I Dr. Oliver S. Haines, who announcer? the new ailment, calls it "angina <dl effort." In plain English that means? a sudden shooting pain under your? breastbone because you're working too? hard. I If, 111 the age of 50, you find your-? self unable to walk n city block with-? out a pain, you probably have "angina? of effort." It comes from having lived? too hard and sometimes from an "an*? tagonistic attitude toward the prob-B loms of life." I (No happy-go-lucky ever gets It.? Those who have been obsessed by love? of power, love Of struggle, or who? harbor exaggerated ideas of their? .....1 i v - ? i^iri.3 unu privileges usuany cio. Everybody who gets "angina of effort" dies a sudden death, usually ascribed to gastritis, according to Dr. Haines, Deadly, corked up venom, brougld on by mental conflict with the prevails tng ideas, becomes n toxin, be says, which gives rise to a pain that radiates into every part of the body. Neuralgia, rheumatism and similar uches may be^symptoms of It. You can b?st be cured by slowing down, Dr. Haines thinks, and by modifying the war spirit which, he says, you carry into every day life. If you don't slow down, you're doomed. For pertain temperaments Dr. Haines announced more specific remedies. The victim of "Old Man Conscience," who worries over unimportr 4- J - ... uvuiiih, iiiui cannot sloop at nignt because jof the passionate and harsh* way he has treated his family during the day, ought to he given a potash preparation. For the emotional idealist who dissolves readily Into tears?"at the movies, for Instance, or the theater,*1 Dr. ^ ' i