Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 33, Number 1, 16 February 1908 — Page 7

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THE VALLEY OF OBLIVION By MARY ROBERTS R1NEHARDT

Copyright, 1908, by Thoman H. McKre. SHK was a dear," Mrs. Osborne said, dealing the cards with a twist of deft white wrists, "but so casual about hr clothes. The artistic Instinct, I suppose. All the Nettletons are dowdy. I met her at Capri, before the return of the Prodigal iluaband, and she looked like an Englishwoman en tour, which Is the lat word. But the whole story Is thrilling and unusual, and Olive Nettleton was faithful enough to deserve to be happy. It Is over to you. Caroline." The girl acros3 looked at hr cards languidly. She t was a very slender girl, with level brows and a direct Case. She named a trump at random, and put down her cards with a little fiigh of relief. Past Mrs. Osborne's carefully coifed head, past Leila Dixon's satirical smile when she saw the eiposed cards, she

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"THE MATER SENT OUT 'looked through the long French window to where the passing clouds cast their shadows on the hills, and down la the valley a loaded hay wagon creaked along the road. ! Up here on the hilltop there was little enough air jtirrlng. The card table had been moved to the music room for coolness; and In the shadows of the alcove a young man in white flannels picked querulously at a guitar, striking an occasional impatient note on the piano as a guide. His eyes sought the girl persistently. Mrs. Baxter, a languid shadow of some brilliant and devastating yesterday, had been "sitting-out" the rub"ber. She picked up her heavy jeweled purse and trailed toward the man in the shadows. "It is profanation to gamble or to gambol In a room like this," she said, t looking down the length of the music room to whore a sudden buzz of conversation showed the eud of the rubber. "A music room without music is a body without a soul. I feel as though I am being facetious in the presence of a corpse. ' "It is pretty bad, isn't It?" Osborne Kingsley said idly, watching Caroline Summers' white-clad figure as she rose and went to the window. "The polemnity of those marble heads, and that funereal procession of black chairs against the wall four chairs and .Brahms, four more and Chopin, four more and Liszt." "High against the wall, with all their poor weaknesses written in their marble faces for the ages to see, instead of being allowed to rot respectably in their graves. Ab, roe. And speaklDg of marble, how do you progress w ith Caroline?" "I hardly see " he began stiffly. Mrs. Baxter laughed. "Caroline is a husk," she declared. "She's a sort of frozen fire. King. Whatever Happened to that man a year ago, wasn't It? The Marriage A very important, point was recently (discuss. In point rlecided in the Talis courts. It is one which will interest, women of every nationality, for it supplies that one touch which makes i5h whole world of Ionian kind. Search Europe over and her age v.ill be found to be a subject, which

which under no circumstances should ono bo called upon to make reference Rven husbands cannot. l trusted nor to jeer at, to taunt, or make aggravating facetious observations to their wives upon this painful question. To sav that, a woman is foolish i make

,o woman over twciity.fi - care to j any secret of

whether he died or was kidnapped or voluntarily effaced himself, everything that was wortk having in Caroline Summers went with him. "Think of if' Mrs. Baxter persisted. "The bridesmaids and men, the bishop, everybody well, '"Waiting at the Church!' Bella Severance was there, and 6he said Fhe never put in such a half-hour. Mrs. Summers In hysteric. Every one but Caroline sure he had funked it at the last minute." The man rose suddenly and the guitar sent a sharp discordant jangle of piano keys through the room, "I would like to shoot him for her," he said. Mrs. Baxter smiled. "Don't threaten," she observed dryly. "You might happen to run across him, you know. Look at the Nettletons! Greg Nettleton is lost In New York, searched for from Alaska to Brazil, and is picked up in Rome, looking as if riotous living agreed with him. Oh. it's a mean little world after all.

SOME TEA," HE SAID. King, and it shrinks every year. Look how the splendid isolation of twenty gives place to the rubbing of elbows of sixty." "And from that" King caught her mood "It is the merest step to the funeral urn of seventy, I suppose. Jolly, aren't we, this afternoon!" "I cannot think of you matrimonially. King," said Mrs. Baxter. "What kind of a husband will you be? Will you be like the rest, or will you be as you are now, just a little different?" "I will love and honor the woman I marry," he eaid stiffly. "And marry a woman you love and honor! But you will be a loving husband. King, and the marriage will be most successful, because in every happy marriage there is one who cares, and one who does not careso much." "And I will be " "The one who cares." Tea had come in, but no on wanted tea. There were decanters and tall glasses and ice, and the bridge game had given way to scraps of gossip. Mrs. Baxter got up and walked slowly down the room. Near the table she turned. "Caroline is on the veranda, King," she called back. "I am sure she wants her tea." "Caroline is hopelessly temperate," Mrs. Osborne highed as she put in the cream. "I do not know whether I am wicked or merely self-indulgent; although I suppose we are always self-indulgent when we are wicked." "I don't agree with you," Leila Dixon said, acidly. "I think it is a lot of trouble to do what we ought not to do." "You would, naturally," agreed Mrs. Baxter, nibbling at a stalk of mint. During the omrnocs pausa

that she is younger than she really is, is nonsense. However youthful she may look, however youthful she may be in manner, if it becomes known that she is more than she appear? to bo. she might as well look her ase and behave as such. Moreover, if a woman is candid and frankly acknowledges the number of her years, she is never believed. At once, every oneadds another five to their number. In

Age oi fact, it is one to ! the case referred to, a bride bad

sented herself t be- considerable

! you n per than she was and consequent-j other hand, hridegrooins-Hecf should'

br a& or to pretend ; ly proved to be by her birth

that followed, the small woman in blue, who had made the fourth at the table, took up the thread of conversation. "We were talking about Olive Nettleton" she began, but Mrs. Baxter raised a warning, slender forefinger. "No scandal until King gets out," she objected. "He has not yet learned that our feminine gossip is precisely the same as his masculine sense of humor both treat of the other person's misfortunes. Only we take seriously what men treat as a joke." Outside on the wide stone veranda Caroline was standing with her slender arms behind her. erect, poised, outwardly cold and self-contained. If the question in her eyes was almost an appeal, as she stood there alone If there was tragedy in the corners of her mouth, there was an instant relaxation when she heard King's step behind her. "The mater sent out some tea," he said, "and she says you look tired and are to be sure to drink it. If you don't care about it, I can pour it over the rail. Shall I trouble you if I stay here?" "You are a friendly light chasing away shadows," she said slowly. Kingsley stood by, made abnorbedly self-conscious by the unexpected reference to what was always in his mind. The girl sipped her tea slowly, looking down the straight path with its flaunting borders to where the pergola, wreathed with trumpet vine and creeper, framed the valley below. "Dear hollyhocks and four o'clocks," she rhymed, "and the lady slippers and larkspur, and salvia each one as prim and spruce and bright as a little New England lady in her Sunday gown. Do you know," she Bald whimsically, "I am an anachronism. I am not a Californian, King; not a truly bred-in-the-bone one at all. I belong here In the East, I am sure. I have the Puritan conscience." "Then I like the Puritan conscience," h9 said, smiling at her. Some one's voice was raised in the music room. "Four years missing, my dear," the voice said, "and Olive Nettleton wandering over the continent, looking Into people's faces on the street, everywhere; Rome, St Petersburg, Cairo! Oh, it was creepy!" "Well, it is Olive's affair," Mrs. Osborne's comfortable voice put In, "and they seem to be beginning things all over again. But suppose she had married again!" "Olive had the Puritan conscience," came Leila Dixon's thin, clear voice. "She would never have married again, unless she had known he was dead." Caroline had been listening, her head slightly bent. Now she looked up suddenly at the man beside her. - "I wonder if you understand. King?" she said. "It's psychology, I suppose; the problem of a small soul, at that. But I am like that woman they are speaking of." Kingsley took the cup and saucer from her and put It carefully on the rail. Then he sat down somewhat awkwardly beside her. "I'm glad you've given me a chance to 6peak," he said. "I'm not very agile mentally, and I can't fence with shadows. But I think I know how you feel. It's the not knowing how or why it's a sort of wound to your pride that won't heal. Don't tell me you still love him. I don't believe it I don't want to be brutal, but people don't love the dead; they remember them you know that, Caroline and everything I know of that awful time points to the one thing." "That he is dead!" she breathed. "But I want to know; I'm like my old nurse at home, when her boy was drowned. She didn't cry; she Just stood by the river bank and waited, day and night, until they found him. And then she cried, and they knew her mind was saved." King leaned over and took one of her cold hands between his warm, brown ones. "You said a little while ago that I drove away the shadows," he said earnestly. "Caroline, can't we face this thing together? I love you God knows. I don't wont to divide you with any one, not even a memory; but it's come to the point where I'm almost ready to throw myself on your pity. Caroline, let me drive the shadows away, always." The girl dropped her chin Into her two palms and stared frowningly ahead. "Yon are like him," she said at last, "and he loved roe, too. Oh, yes, whatever people may think, nothing can take that away from me. He loved me, King; and vhat if he should come back and find that I have not been faithful? In there" she nodded toward the house "they have been talking of some woman who haunted the continent, looking into the faces of the people she met I sit here and look out over the hills and I say, 'Which way? Which way? " The young man had folded his arms, and, leaning back, he, too, gazed over the hills. He was baffled, discouraged, but not beaten. "If you care about him, Caroline," he said after a silence, "he was not a scoundrel. I accept that as I accept the ghost that stands between us. But suppose I can lay the ghost? Would there be a chance for me?" "Could you save my faith?" she asked sharply, turning to him. "I will try," he pledged solemnly. Mrs. Baxter came languidly to the window and held the curtain aside with a sweeping gesture. "Dear me, how intense you look!" she mocked. "Caroline, you have lost thirty dollars, and Carria Osborne says your last make lost the rubbec"

cate. in consequence of which the legality of her marriage is now disputed. On the other har.d, it is maintained that a husband takes ail risks, and that if illegality was admitted through deception on one point, a man might equally demand to bo set free if he found his bride wore a transformation or false teeth, or was not the daughter of a professional man as she had claimed to be. Of course the safest course for a bride-elect to pursne. is to be absolutely frank, bnr on thf repre Ninety i( al heat tertiu-iMK. too-aaajf uestiocs. "Ask noj&O per

"I am com tug in." the girl said wearily, and rose. Mrs. Baxter looked past her at King's face. "Don't cor?."." he said, mere gently. ' I'll take it iu for you. Sir down like a good girl and make that gloomy prrson bftMe you happy." As Caroline openei her gold purse, something dropped to the floor and rolled under a chair. With a little cry the pirl picked it up and clutched it jealously. Mrs. Baxter's tmile was inscrutable as she turned back into the room, and through the open window c;une again the voice of the little woman in blue Not a word was lost to the two on tae veranda, t ho listened lecause they mu-t. "I shall always call it the greatest event I ever lived through." she said, "and wh-"u ye-M rrn:-"-ni betthat I was on'o an onlooker, you run uaUvrstar.d the emotional pitch. Here was poor Olive Nettleton. in the heaviest kind of crepe, rushing ail over Kurope after exhausting America, looking for a husband who had absolutely dropped out c existence, without leafing a trace. You know what OUe is, very ninth Ilk Caroline Summers" she dropped her voice a little "very. Well poised and self-reliant, so you can only guess what she feels. There must have been lots of rows when Olive's emotional temperament tried to climb the fence of her hereditary conscience. You know Cassidy, the Irish artist, who tried to make her marry him. whether poor Nettleton was .lead or not Well, she stuck it out and was faithful, and lost her good look3. partly, and all her cheeriness n attractive woman trying to be faithful to a memory has a hard time, anyhow. "Olive had been touring the Riviera in a car, and Adelaide and I were to meet her at the Grand Hotel in Rome. The day before she was due there came a cablegram for Olive, and Adelaide opeued it, for fear it was urgent. Adelaide read it and fell back in a chair, and it was a full minute before she rallied enough to give it to me. It said: 'Sailing next

m nyn &m SHE PUT DOWN HER CARDS steamer. Explain everything. Love,' and was signed Gregory Nettleton. My dears, if Greg Nettleton had risen out of his grave and fired his headstone at me, I should not have been more shocked." As the voice paused for greater effect, Caroline turned to King. "You see, he came back," she said. "Olive r-tayed longer at Naples than she meant to, and it was not until the day Greg was due that she came to Rome. Adelaide and I had talked all week of how to break it to her best and Adelaide, who has more diplomacy than I have, suggested we work her up to it gradually telling her first that there was news, and then, while Olive was thinking it wa3 Helea that's the child, you know and that maybe she was

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i questions and you will hear no stnrj ies" is a good old-fashioned maxim, especially where a lady's ape is con

MURDERER SENTENCED BYJHE COURT Will Have to Spend His Life in Prison.

cerned. If that French bridegroom had of been inquisitive, his lady-love would have practiced no deception; later on. Lis curiosity brought about a further disaster. Clearly, a little knowledge is a dangerous thin?, and it is better to think a woman as young as she looks than to know the truth.

- three per err.t of thr.be.-re?-of t oal is wasted, atsd oni

ffTr.f.tId Ind . )h. .", . .Tut Matcn this morning overruled the mcucn

cent of. that cl ciL

:iug. then e could spring Gxeg's cablegram. w ins; h.T through one emotional climax to another. ' i' it o:i tan't do those things by rule. Just ai (dive drew u at the Grand Hotel in her muddy car with her face perfectly covered with dust and her ha) on one side, of course, a carriage dashed up and Gre$ Nettleton jumped oat. What did they do? My dears it was th most disappointing thing I ever heard of She didn't even faint. I think she had felt all alow that some time she would meet him face to face, Ju as she did. In that instant she lost the queer, que Honing look she had had for so long, and when sh found Oreg had little Helen In the carriage, she waj illuminated! So Adelaide and 1 missed it after all But we went around ith Olive and helped her gel fccine respectable gowns and sell her crfpe." "What an alluring story!" Mrs. Baxter said, lightly ' And how did handsome Greg account for his foul years' defection?' The lady tn blue hesitated. "Well, he did exrlaia." she said apologetically, "r-ui it was not what a more worldly woman would hav called an explanation. He said he had lost four year, that was all; dropped them out of his life. That th last he remembered was walking across the links mi the Country Club with a raddle and a bunch of club You know that's where he was last seen. And th next thing he knew he was on a train la California) with his mustache gone and a ticket for Lob AngebM In his pocket And It was four years later." "All the women loved Greg Nettleton," rotnmentei Mis. Baxter with a drawl. "It would be Interesting to know If he had married in the IntervaL" "There was something queer," confided the narratofi "lie was sitting with little Helen on his knee, an4 Olive besldo him he wouldn't let her move out of hit Fight when he showed it to roe He gave it to Helea to play with while he told us, and It seemed tncen gruous, somehow. It seemed that he- fua4en hjf

jess WITH A SIGH OF RELIEF. finger one of those heavy old Egyptian rings witi a dull red stone sunk in it, and a "C" cut into th ston It was strange to know that he didn't remember at all where he got it." The girl on the veranda had sat through it all, and King had lest no ?ingle expression on hr face. Sh eat quite still after the story was flnibhed. then tbv turned to him suddenly and held out the hand that had been closed. On its palm lay a heavy gold ring cf Efyptlan workmanship with a dull red stone sunk Into the metal. In an Instant something had gone out of the girl's face, and her mouth had lost Its tragedy of uncertainty. "I kave buried my dead, King," rha said at last for a new trial in the case of Francis M. Duncan, who was convicted of murder in the pecond degree for killing James LaFoliette. Duncan m sentenced to prison for life and will be taken to Mb Ligau City text Tuesday. If you we troubled with ick headache, coaIt'pation. indirection. cSen&We breatij or aay dise arising from fftotnacb trouble, pet a Sue or 1 bottle of Ir. Caldwell's Syrnp Ptepaia. it is poiitively guaranteed to cure you. i There were r ru new books publirh tcd ia l.'7t or more tha for 1306,