The Horry herald. (Conway, S.C.) 1886-1923, September 07, 1916, Image 6
*
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