Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 309, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 December 1914 — The Governor’s A Novelization of Lady Alice Bradley’s Play [ARTICLE]

The Governor’s A Novelization of Lady Alice Bradley’s Play

A Novelization of Alice Bradley's Play

By GERTRUDE STEVENSON

Illustrations from Photographs of the Stage Production

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SYNOPSIS. D*nM Slade suddenly advances from a penoUeos miner to a millionaire. He is ambitious to become governor of the ■fete. Ws Simple, home-loving wife falls to rise to the now conditions. Slade meets Katherine, daughter of Senator Strickland. and sees in her all that Mary is not. Slade decides to separate from his wife and takes rooms at his dub. CHAPTER V. Mazy Slade sat down to the breakfast table with a uertnln sense of bewilderment. It waa the same this morning aa It had been each successive morning since Dan’s departure. She could not bring herself to the realisation of the fact that Dan had not come home—apparently did not intend to oome home. She had waited up the night he had gone to the club, just as she had waited up every night of their married life, no matter where her husband was or how late he might be coming home. As the night hours lengthened into day she was forced to the conclusion that Dan meant to stay away for the night. That he wouldn’t be home at all through the day never occurred to her. She reasoned that a night’s sleep would clear his mind add that he would have recovered from his “tantrum” the next day. But Dan didn’t “run in” that day nor the next. The days had become weeks, yet neither by telephone nor letter had he sent as much as a word. Finally Mary had mustered up her courage and telephoned his club. It took courage for Mary to use the telephone on any occasion. She was afraid of the sound of her own voice the moment she began to talk into the transmitter. This time she feared Dan’s displeasure and his possible harshness. Mr. Slade was out, had left no message, they did not know when he would return, was the disappointing result as she hung the receiver on the * * b ° ok - This morning, as the-maid served her breakfast, she resolved to try again. The situation was getting unbearable. It was bad enough to live tn the great house and be surrounded by servants with Dan there. Without him she felt like a prisoner of state and looked on the servants as so many jailers. Leaving her breakfast practically untested, Mary again ventured to the telephone. With faltering voice she repeated the number. **One-threh-nine-four;” with beating heart she Inquired for “Mr. Slade;” with sinking courage she received the answer that Mr. Slade had gone out, leaving no message Again and again during the day she repeated the call, only to receive a similar reply. The possibility of her husband having left such a message to be delivered to her, whether he was there or not never occurred to the truthful, simple-minded little woman. But Slade did not want to be reached by her, and if an untruth, more or lees, were necessary, the telephone boy was easily bribed. Meanwhile Slade was eagerly looking forward to his new life. Never aman to waver, he did not once look back to the wife he had so coolly deserted. He was being dined and banqueted and feted, being everywhere hailed as the candidate for governor. He was sniffing the first breath of future glories with keenest delight. This was the sort of thing that made a man feel big! Thia was the sort of life to lead—with men bowing and salaaming all around him. He walked with a firmer tread. His shoulders were thrown back a bit more arrogantly. His chest was more noticeable as he walked down the street. The Innate conceit and self-esteem of the man made him overlook the fact that the party needed a rich man. He was quite satisfied that he was being boosted by Strickland and the others, because of his brains, his unusual abil- , tty, his oratory and his power to lead I men. He was happier than he had been for years. Every day the new life looked brighter and the old less If he gave a thought to Mary it was a passing one. Mary was “comfortable.” She had everything that money could buy. The servants would be taking good care of her, of course Of the lump in Mary’s throat aa she sat at the lonely breakfast table and as she want through the still more lonesome ordeal of the formal dinner, he knew nothing. Of the woman’s aching heart and her eyes bright with unshed tears ad she tried to keep up before the servants and make excuses for his absence, Slade was heartlessly oblivious. Or perhaps it was self-esteem again, that made him unable to feel for her —the oMf-esteem of the sueoaoaful man who feels -no wounds when tor what he wants, and neither knows nor cares that others fool them. He had a heart, but it was no pleasantly like Pharaoh's. But of Katherine Strickland’s statuesque beauty and her cosmopolitan manner ho waa delightfully aware. During the weeks since he had left ‘home Slade had been calling regularly at the Strickland home, partly to .consult with the senator and partly for the purpose of posing for the, bust which Katherine was modeling. As 'they oat hour after Hour, he posing she working deftly and

talking even more cleverly, Slade and Katherine had come to a mutual understanding. The more they saw of each other the more each became convinced that their paths would inevitably converge. Katherine talked animatedly and entertainingly of social life abroad and of the gay times in Washington, and Slade’s heart warmed and his eyes flashed as he pictured himself a part of that charmed circle. With keen penetration he saw the longing of the girl’s nature, her iron will, her determination to gain social honors at almost any cost He flattered himself that when he said the word Katherine Strickland would be heady to cast her lot with his. From the smoking room of Senator Strickland’s big house came the .strident sound of men’s voices, raised in excitement, and, it would seem, acclaim. Now and again the senator’s smooth, oratorical voice would sound and then Slade'e slightly deprecatory, yet firm and pleased. Then would follow the patter of applause, laughter and the sudden dropping of voices that' signified earnest converse. To Katherine Strickland, sitting in the softly lighted library adjoining, every sound had its meaning. Her eyes sparkled with keen Interest. In her cheeks glowed the deep rose of excitement and exultation. In that other room she knew they were making history. In that other room they were putting up a man for governor, a man she admired and who had aroused her interest as no other man had ever done. Nothing could stand in that man’s way, she thought, with a catch in her breath, nothing could stop him now that he was fairly started,. How different this domineering, forceful personality from Bob Hayes, the man who had first won her girl’s heart, and yet for whom she had never been willing to renounce'her interest in the political and social life which obsessed her with the same compelling force as it did Slade. With an effort she brought her mind back to the present and to Mrs. Wesley Merritt, who had dropped in on her way from ,a dance to pick up her husband. "You simply weren’t listening to a word I said,” Mrs. Merritt complained in her affectedly affectionate way. "I was asking If you know Mr. Slade very well.” "Yes," Katherine replied, lightly, “we know him very well.” "And does be ever mention his wife?” In Mrs. Merritt’s most perfectly feline manner. "Never once,” admitted Katherine, without even an attempt at an evasion. "And you have never met her?” Mrs. Merritt was in her glory if she could probe. "No, I have never met her.” ‘‘How extraordinary! My husband —why, Wesley Merritt’s name spells hearth and home, .domestic purity—while Slade’s! They tell me he hasn’t seen his wife for weeks, and it’s town talk that he’s living' at his club. And to think he’s never mentioned her to you!” Katherine had quietly rung for a servant, and as Mrs. Merritt finished, remarked casually: "Martin, see that these letters are mailed at once." Unabashed, Mrs. Merritt was moving eagerly about room, comfortable In all Its appointments, its richness enhanced and mellowed with age, a blend of color that nothing but years can give* Fannie Merritt was a decided blonde. Her decision had been made more than ten* years before. It was a decision that, once made, must be abided by, and the woman had been living-up to it ever since. Her gown was the last word of sartorial elegance and style. Daringly decollette it clung To her long, svelte figure with loving emphasis, and trailed round her exquisitely dressed feet. Her hair did credit to the hairdresser's long and patient efforts, and long, bizarre diamond pendanfe flashed and sparkled from her ears. If ever a woman had become a slave to her own personal pleasure and dress, that woman was Fannie Merritt. Too self-centered and selfish ever to crave motherhood, she lavished a kind of affection on a watery-eyed little poodle, which repaid her with lap-dog gratitude. Tonight she was restless and 111, at ease. Like Katherine, her mind was full of one thought—Slade, Slade, Slade —but thoughts that took a different direction. She wae sick of his name, sick of hearing of his money, sick of the talk of his power and of bearing him named as “the man of the hour." He was winning the very honors she had coveted for her husband, and taking them right out from beneath-Tils very eyes and nose. There didn’t seem to be a doubt of Slade becoming governor, the very position for which her husband had been striving for the past six terms. Slade with his millions needed the governorship no more than a pampered child needs a new toy, while to her husband success or failure this time meant either the retrieving of his fortunes or his utter ruin. The abstraction of the two tvomen was broken by the sudden entrance

Ing a tlme of ft in there. Good evening, Mrs. Merritt, your husband is certainly making it warm for Mr. Slade.”' / . _ - a "Indeed,” laughed Mrs. Merritt, gratified for the moment. "Dear, dear!” she exclaimed as she watched Hayes gazing wistfully at Katherine and looking very handsome and manly in his well-made evening clothes. "It’s quite like old times to see. you together.” Unhappy herself, it gave her a certain pleasure to make other people unhappy. The jealousy) she had long felt for the younger and more beautiful woman found expression now in her purring tones, as, with amiable cruelty, she reminded them of their earlier intimacy. She took delight in making Bob writhe and Katherine whiten as she recalled their passionate young love when only the senator’s stern interference had kept them from wedding. “Let me see,” she recollected, “when I was your confidante, you were twenty-one, Katherine, and you, Rob. were twenty-four. I can feel Rob’s hands gripping mine yet: ‘O, please see her for me—the senator doesn’t approve of it.’ And the tears you shed on my shoulder, Katherine —why, it feels wet to think of IL” “O! Fannie!” Katherine's voice wae not as firm “I always said,” the woman persisted, “Rob, she’ll come home to you in the end—” ,

"I think I’ll go back and listen to the discussion,” and Bob flung disgustedly out'of the room. At the door he almost collided with Merritt. Katherine had hurried out to see a reporter who wanted the wherefores and the whys of the dfnneh party to Slade. “I can’t possibly 'get away, dear," Merritt explained to his wife. “I’ve beSn. buttonholed by some men from up tn's state. Shall you wait or go home—hrot?” Mrs. Mhndtt refused to be dismissed in thht peremptory fashion. "I’ll wait,” the returned with acid sweetness. “Tnen if you are not ready I’ll run along.” “Slade’s had an ovation tonight,” Merritt informed her, nodding-toward the smoking-room. “The big out-of-town men are all here. Some of ’em in there yet He’s big, Fannie. He’s big. We can’t deny that. The brute attacks his point with all the force of a sledge hammer/’ “Yes, that’s what you lack — punch!" his wife turned on him petulantly. "You’re snowed under,” she complained, bitterly. “If you’d taken my advice you wouldn’t have come to this Slade feed tonight. What’s your paper for,” she demanded, "if you can’t attack'your rival candidate in its columns? Anyone would think you wanted to make him governor—instead of yourself.”

"I can’t attack him publicly,” Merritt retorted. "He’d put up glue factories facing our property and, with a lake breeze blowing our way—phew! My position is very difficult Of course, Election’s a long way ahead, but I’m the only stick in his puddle.” “Yes, you’re a big stick!” ’’she taunted. “Why don’t you do something?" “What can I do?” he groaned. "I’ve been told tonight by no less than four men that they won’t support me again. And Strickland’s speech introducing Slade was a masterpiece!” “Yes—Strickland’s masterpieces are concocted by his daughter, we all know that. Just as I write your stuff,” she finished with hateful emphasis on the possessive. "My dear, I wish you’d be more careful!” warned Merritt, making sure that the door leading into the smoking-room was closed. "Your ‘Message to the Farmer’—that made you famous! What did I ever get for writing it?” and with self-satis-fied deliberateness ehe arranged herself carefully in a low-seated chair near the fireplace. “I never denied that you had a man’s brain,” placatlngly/ drawlingly, mockingly, “darling." "Yes —I’m the family mosquito that buzzes behind your ears. God help us if it wasn’t for me. Did you ask the senator for the |IO,OOO I want?” she demanded. “He can’t,” Merritt was huddled in the nearest chair.' ’Hie subject had been causing him appetlteless days and sleepless nights. When a woman of Fannie Merritt’s persistency and tenacity wants something a man can’t get then that man is very, likely to be nagged into desperation. “You look out, Wesley,” she answered, alarm breaking the careful modulation of her vqlce. “That’s tha first time he ever refused us.” “He’s broke —dead broke. I don’t know how he can keep this up. The senator's nearly out. .That's why he’s sticking to Slade.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)