Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 203, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 January 1929 — Page 11

TAX. 12, 1920.

00/ie Storu of a .Modern Moo+v Goddess r ~ElV'C s teCL7wr FL CHLDM

~ CHAPTER XXXI Continued. •'Because you can not help it, my dear. . . . And I’m glad you’re going home because I’m falling pretty seriot“ly in love with you.” He smiled whimsically. •’Alas!” he moaned, how easily things go wrong! A sigh too deep or a kiss too long, And then comes mist and a weeping rain. And life is never the same again.’" “You don’t really love me,” she affirmed. “Oh. my dear,” he cried, “I'm old enough to be your father. It’s ridiculous for us to talk love. How could I hope to make a girl like you love me?” Ashtoreth thought of a number of ways. . . . There was, for instance. tliat flying machine she had heard about. The foreign car that waited outside the office, with the chauffeur in a crimson livery that matched the leather. There was a little chateau somewhere in Normandy. . . . And a chalet in Switzerland. All in all, there were a number of things calculated to increase Hollis’ hopes. . . . They weren’t however, things a girl could menteon at the moment CHAPTER XXXII THE storm had raged all day, and now it was night. Midnight . . . and the wind, worn out with its fury, skulked like a fitful wraith, lifting the poor, dead things it had killed, and tossing them about like chaff. The butterfly bushes lay on their purple heads. And the petals of the red hibiscus spilled like blood on the grassy slopes. Great boughs stretched across the iawn. A ltd, beneath the wreckage, the whoie gay garden was crushed and broken. Lime trees had been uprooted and thrown aside; and the vanillas and cocoas. And a giant palm, spilling cacoanuts from its broken fends, lay across the garden wall. A few pale stars came out and peered sadly down. Hollis and Ashtoreth looked upon the horror that had visited their small paradise. Servants with flaming torches, wandered here and there. A child, in the hut where the women lived, cried and sobbed. And an old man moaned. Down in the gully, dogs bayed fearsomely. And the servants scuffed their torches out and ran as though the devil chased them. For they knew that dogs never howled like that, except when the Suck E Y’an rode on the wings of the night . . . and the wind sighed gustily. . . . Everything seemed hurt and sad. And only Ashtoreth was happy. For Hollis had told her that he loved her. He had, moreover, asked her to marry him. . . . And that, of the two, was the more important declaration. u u a IT had been wonderful, in the cozy fastness af the little house. Hbllis had found a pair of black pajamas, with gold friogs, and a Chinese dragon writhing up the back. How they happened in his bags he could not imagine. For they had been bought in Pekin, for the wife of an old friend. It was months since he had seen them. Parkins must have mistaken them for something more utilitarian (Parkins. Ashtoreth gathered, was Hollis’ valet). Hollis begged Ashtoreth to accept them. “Mrs. Lee would look like a meal bag in them,” he declared. “Please, Orchid—they're lounging things, really. Not to sleep in at all.” So she had put them on. And taken a candle from her bedroom to light the way to the drawing room, to show him how beautiful they were on a girl who did not at all resemble a meal bag. He had blown out the lamps when he saw her coming with the darkness all around her, and her face lighted, like a holy statue’s, in the flickering light of the candle. And then, somehow, her candle had been also extinguished. And he

THE NEW Saint-Sinner ByoJnneJiustin eSB^ICA.9Bna.DK.

As soon as Crystal Hathaway stepped into the bit of woods which had served her and Pablo Mendoza as a trysting place, she was so conscious of the presence of her Spanish-Mexican sweetheart that she involuntarily called his name, softly: "Pablo! Pablo! I’ve come, Pablo!” There was no answer. She moved uncertainly, her feet feeling stiff and queer, until she came to the tree against whose trunk she and Pablo had sat and read poetry and sung Spanish love songs. And then she saw how Pablo had kept this tryst, knew why she had such a strong consciousness of his presence. For there, pinned to the smooth trunk of the birch three by a small, beautifully wTought little dagger, was a letter. iJhe recognized the cheap pink envelope. Her only other letter from Pablo Mendoza had come to her in its mete. For a minute Crystal did not have the courage to pull out the little dagger and read the letter. She sank to the leaf-covered ground and leaned sickly, dizzily against the trunk of the tree. And then Crystal prayed, prayed as she had never prayed befotre. prayed fanatically, as if God could alter the words which were awaiting her frightened eyes. Perhaps her prayer gave her courage, for at last she stretched out a hand and grasped the little dagger, whose point had barely penetrated the sensitive bark of the tree. And she murmured, as if the tree could hear her: "Pablo didn’t hurt you. did he, dear birch tree? H? wouldn’t hurt you—or me—” His letter was in Spanish, but by this time sire had become so proficient in the language that she read it almost as rapidly as If he had penned it in English.

! was waiting for her, with his arms open. . . , And the great, soft darkness had enfolded them both. And, as he held her, his desire went singing through her. He lifted her forehead to his lips, and the wild wine of his love flowed like a torrent from her swimming head. He hushed her protestations with his mouth. And, lifting her. cradled her in his arms. And talked of lovei when he talked at all. which was not at first, nor until he was weary with kissing. “You’ll marry me, Orchid?” he had begged. And he called her beautiful things. "A high white altar.” And a “palewhite love.” And a “flame-white secret forever.” Lovely, mystic names, like a poet making love. It rather embarrassed her. As it had when he talked about her “darling untouchedness.” She wondered if he had known about the way Jack Smythe had kissed her only a week before, he would still call her by white and precious names. And, of course, there wasn’t just Jack Smythe either. There was Monty. And one or two others, besides. By and by he lighted the lamps again. And, when the storm had abated, he opened a shutter and they stood at the window together, with his arm about her shoulders. He sent her, then, to dress, and said they would go out for a little. And that Lisa would come to prepare a hot meal, for they had eaten very little that day. u an THEY decided that the boat, which they had expected in the morning, would be surely delayed. But when it came Hollis was to sail for home with her. And they would be married in Boston. “Will we cable your mother?” he had asked. But Ashtoreth thought not. "Oh, I’d rather tell her myself!” she said. . . . She had her own personal reasons for that. It might be a little difficult, handling Maizie. Maizie was so fond of Monty. “She would want to be sure, too, that it was all quite proper and respectable. Maizie had such a plebeian suspicion of millionaires. Ashtoreth thought she was too excited that night to sleep. Hollis had sent her to bed very shortly after they had eaten. Later she had smelled cigarets and knew 7 he was smoking in the garden, beneath her window 7 . She considered stealing softly down, to surprise him again in the Chinese pajamas. She took her hair down, to brush and plait it, and thought of slipping a big braid over each shoulder, and going to him that way. Ashtoreth’s hair reached far below 7 her waist, and was, without doubt, her crowning glory. Hollis, she knew, would love it. She sat on the side of the bed to comb it. and to think upon her great good fortune. And, as she combed, her arms grew tired and heavy, so that she rested her lead against the pillow. In a moment she was sound asleep. While she slept, Hollis smoked innumerable cigarets, and wondered if it was decent for a man of his age to marry a young girl. And if such marriages w 7 ere ever happy. Ai.d if Ashtoreth might not be bettei off with a younger man. Wretchedly he pondered. And, when he closed his eyes, he could imagine the feel of her in his arms, with her body throbbing, and her dark hair like a soft cloud across his face, and in his eyes. He looked up to the room that held her. sleeping ther. Pale and slim, with her black hair, and her long, black lashes that swept her white cheeks. He thought of her in the big old bed, with the wooden angels to guard her slumber . . . and he lit another cigaret . . . and another . . . and another . . . until it was morning. And w 7 ith the dawn, he knew that, right or wrong, he would abide by Ashtoreth’s desire. For the big old bed, with the pale, slim girl sleeping in it, held heaven for him, and all but God.

Pablo had addressed the envelope “Por Querida Mia,” knowing that even if other eyes than Crystal’s saw 7 it they w 7 ould not understand. The letter, which Crystal’s agonized took in swiftly, read: “Diamante mia—lf you come once more to w here w r e have been happy and sad, you will find this message from your heartbroken Pablo. I do not reproach you, my beloved. “But can not abide here where eyes laugh at me and sneer. I can not abide now that I have lost the heart of the world. I go back*to Mexico, beloved. Pablo prays the good God that his Diamond will love and be happy again. Adios, my beautiful one. Pablo.” Crystal Hathaway plumbed the depths of hell in the two or three hours which followed. When at last she became conscious that hours easily had passed she began, instinctively, but entirely without vanity, to repair the damages which her storm of grief and despair had wrought. The little oblong mirror in her handbag told her that her face was swollen and blotched with tears, that her make-up was ruined beyond relief. There were broken bits of yellow 7 and brown leaves in her hair, for Crystal had flung herself upon the stem bosom of the earth and groveled there, pounding the damp earth with frantic fists. She was groping with shaking fingers in her handbag for her little pocket comb when her bloodshot eyes caught sight of the little dagger which Pablo had left behind as one last present. She could not return it as she had returned his other absurd, dear litUe gifts, but she could—she could (Xo Be Continued)

THE sun had risen, and he saw a boat riding the waves. The cruise ship, back again. The servants were up with the sun, and they helped him prepare to leave, packing his bags, and bearing messages to the town. At seven Hortense called Ashtoreth. The boat was sailing at ten. Monsieur Hart was waiting in the dining-room, for her to join him at breakfast. She bathed in the big cement tank in the bath house beneath the mango. Hortense, whose dusky ancestresses were ladies’ maids to the first white women on the island, dried her with hot towels, and scented her with Hollis’ shaving talcum. And combed her long hair, and slipped her only dress over her head, and told her she was beautiful as the morning. She went then to Hollis, and greeted him timidly. For Hortense had told her of the return of the boat, and it seemed as if the flying hours were crashing about her head. He kissed her reverently, as though last night had been a dream, and only today was real. Very much as though she had been a child, touching her eyes and her forehead with his lips. “The boat,” he told her, “sails at 10. I have sent my bags ahead, and transacted, by messenger, all my business on the island. So that we can leave when you are ready.” “I’m ready this minute,” she assured him. “I only want to say good-bye to Hortense and Lisa and Cher, and the rest. And pick some orchids, and walk through the garden. “And look at the mountains and the sea and everything, so that I can never forget a blessed shadow or sunbeam, so long as I live. I want to photograph it on my mind, forever and ever, and lock the memory in my heart, so that I can never lose it until I die.” u u u “/’“VDETTE and Adele are picking W orchids for you now,” he told her, “and scarlet lilies, to fill your stateroom. Hortense is begging that you will take her home for your maid. And Lisa and the twins want to go, also.” Ashtoreth laughed. “Poor Hortense,” she saitf, “she’d have to sleep in the bathtub. If we could get a maid for absolutely nothing, we haven’t even a corner in that flat to squeeze her in.” “But I meant for your own personal maid,” he explained. “After we are married. She is so devoted to you, I wonder if perhaps you’d like to take her along.” “My own personal maid!” Ashtoreth stared at her lover. “To dress me. you mean? And comb my hair, and give me baths?” “Surely, my dear. You will want a maid, of course. Perhaps, though, you would rather have a more experienced woman. I suppose Hortense doesn't know about such things as manicures and facials, and all the little tricks of the trade.” “But Holly!” Ashtoreth was amazed. “It’s been lots of fun, down here —having so much attention. But, my goodness, I wouldn’t want a maid at home. “Why I’d feel like one of those doll-women, or a silly little dog in a satin basket. It would be just too foolish for anything—a working girl like me!” Hollis smiled. “It was only a suggestion,” he said. “Hortense was so anxious to get to the States. You see, I rented all the servants with the house. The planter who owns the place is spending his holiday in Barbados. “And I’m only now discovering how little native servants cost. It’s no wonder they want u> gCLto America. How much do you suppose Hortense is paid, my dear?” "Oh. I don't know. Girls for general housework at home get sls and $lB, I think,” Ashtoreth told him. “But I don’t know a thing about wages for servants that are especially trained. I suppose though there’s no comparison between the States and the tropics.” “I should say there isn’t!” he exclaimed. “Well, Hortense gets the magnificent sum of 50 cents a week. And Lisa, my dear, who is rated the best cook on the island, gets a dollar! We could staff the whole place with them, if you'd like. Os course there might be some trouble getting them in on the quota, but I guess that could te arranged, if you’d like the notion.” a # a ASHTORETH was dumbfounded. "But it's probably not practical,” he added. “The details of passage, and all. It would be quite a nuisance. And then, of course, they are not used to our ways. There would be all sorts of trouble getting them adjusted.” Ashtoreth was rather overawed. The servant problem was far removed from the domestic life to which she was accustomed. She remembered the days when Maizie had gone out “accommodating.” Blacking stoves and scrubbing floors! Ashtoreth wanted to cry whenever she thought of it. . . . And now she was to have servants of her own! The very i.otion frightened and thrilled her. “How many servants have you, Holly?” she asked. “Me? Oh, I’ve nobody but Parkins.” he told her. “I live at the club, mostly. We’ll open the town house after we are married, if you’d like. It’s on Beacon street, on the river side. I suppose it's a bit dingy now. We might have it redecorated, while we are away. “I*ll ask Aunt Meg to get hold of a housekeeper. And then you needn’t be annoyed with hiring servants. Aunt Meg will see that the place is running smoothly before we get back.” “Oh. Holly! Holly! It’s like a story!” Ashtoreth threw her arms about his neck. “I feel like a princess in a fairy tale. Don't—don’t—let me wake up, dearest’’ He held her olosely, “Life is going to be a lovely dream,” he promised. “I know 7 it is,” she cried. “But, oh Holly. I've the dreadfulest feelir that something is going to happen!” (To Be Continued)

THE IXDIAXAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND lIIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MON’N POP

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THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

The death of Scott and his brave companions was made even more tragic by the fact that they perished within eleven miles of One Ton Camp. A relief party had left the camp only a few days before Scott and his men died in the neighborhood. Eight months passed before a search party picked up Scott’s trail. VW Pi minim < Sw fiUMwi * ItrmM+.Qfy'H. Wsy

By Ahern

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j The searchers found the tent almost by instinct. C. S. Wright, guide, pointed to a mound of snow. “It is \the tent,” he said,

OUT OUR WAY

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There they found the bodies of the three men as they had died, their papers and diaries about them, but not a morsel Vjaffood.

SKETCHES BY BES SLY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAUCHEB

The sledges Scott and his men had sapped their strength to haul contained trophies of the journeycoal, fossil wood, rare minerals, fragments of coral. Search was made for the body of Oates, but the snow had swallowed it. A cairn was set up to mark the approximate site, with a note telling of Oates’ brave act. (To Be Continued)

PAGE 11

—By Williams

—By Martin

Bv Blrwsor

By Crane

By Small

By Cowan