OCR Text |
Show 7w mm mmeot By ElIWOR MAXWELL o RCAD1 HOUSE PUBLICATIONS WNU SERVICE CHAPTER XV-Continued 15 There was something mysterious about the whole thing. Even the friends who had come to condole seemed strangely quiet on the subject of Jim Loring's sudden death, and as the hours wore on, Mary grew more and more apprehensive. appre-hensive. His going was spoken about as "tragic," "a great loss to Hawkinsville," and "terrible for the family" but the spirit of evasion as to how his death had come about was always there. "Ellen." she began that night In '.he privacy of their room "was iad's death really an accident?" Silence a long silence, which answered an-swered her better than any words could have done. "Ellen! Was it-did he?" Ellen stifled a sob. "Yes, Mary. Dad took his own life." "Oh, my God! I was afraid he had! Something told me at the time bridal things to be purchased, arrangements ar-rangements to be made. Gossip was running rife concerning concern-ing Christopher and Ilsa Cragg. Ilsa had gone to Reno to obtain a divorce, di-vorce, and report had it that she and Arty Belden would be married as soon as the decree was granted, and go to Chicago to live. Hawkins-ville, Hawkins-ville, unaccustomed to scandal, certainly cer-tainly did not want them there. Then, at last, she saw Chris. It was a hot day, the first part of July, and she was walking down Trilby Lane after a visit to her father's grave, when suddenly she heard the sound of an automobile coming up behind her. Without even glancing around, she stepped to one side of the road to let the car go by. Instead of passing her, however, it came to a stop, and, looking up, she saw Christopher Chris-topher Cragg. He jumped from the car and came toward her. "Mary! How are you? I've been to your house twice, but and that was a horrid, formal little note. Oh, Phil, I want you! I need you!" At last, they had reached Blon-deau Blon-deau street, and wefe heading down Sixth. At last, they were turning into Concert, and nearing her home. She would write to Phil this afternoon. after-noon. She would tell him she was leaving for New York soon. Now they were pulling up at the curb in front of the Loring house, and without waiting for Chris to get out, she opened th door of the car, and stepped to the ground. "Good-by, "Good-by, Chris," she said breathlessly, and turned to smile at him. He Jumped from the car, and came toward her. "Mary," he began, be-gan, "think this thing over. Please think it overl" Mary shook her head, "No, Chris. That won't do any good. My mind's made up." And placing her hand on his arm, she added, "I'm sorry, Chris . . . good-by." There were sounds of voices In the living room as she entered the front hall. Mother was talking to someone, and Petey was there and a man. "Mary!" called her mother as the screen door slammed behind her. "Mary, dear, come in! You have a guest" She had hoped her mother wouldn't call her. She had wanted to dash upstairs, and write her letter let-ter to PhiL Grudgingly, she turned from the stairway, and went towards to-wards the living room. There, standing stand-ing in the doorway, she stared unbelievingly un-believingly at the tall man who bad risen from his chair. "Phil!" she gasped. "Phil!" And quite oblivious of her mother's and Petey's presence, she ran the length of the room, and flung her arms about him. "Maryl" laughed Phil, and stooped to kiss her. "Darling, are you really glad to see me?" "I've never been so glad to see anybody in all my life!" Mary cried. "Oh, PhiL how did you happen to come?" "I wanted to see you, you little goose!" Phil returned with a grin. "Your letters didn't suit me at alL They were too few and far between and somehow, I felt you were getting get-ting farther and farther away from me." Mrs. Loring, with a reluctant Petey Pe-tey in tow. tiptoed unnoticed from the room. "But, Phil," Mary protested. "I was going to write you this afternoon! after-noon! I know my letters have been awful. I've I've been in a dreadful dread-ful muddle for months, but now, at last, things are all cleared ud!" "There Just didn't seem to be any honorable way of getting out of it. I never cared for anyone except you, after the first night we met. But Ilsa and I had been engaged for some time, and I Just didn't see how I could break it off. Then, too. her father's a big specialist in Chicago Chi-cago . . ." "But," Mary Interrupted, "what had her father to do with it?" "Well," Chris replied, "when he heard that Ilsa and I were engaged, he promised to take me into partnership partner-ship with him, providing I'd first do general work In a small town for a year or so. It was the chance of a lifetime, of course, and by taking advantage of it, I was saving myself my-self years and years of useless plugging." The sudden introduction of Ilsa's father into the question of this inexplicable in-explicable marriage left Mary quite at sea for a moment. Then, as she began to realize what an important part Doctor Graceland and his offerhad of-ferhad played, her face blazed crimson. "So!" she thought "This is why Chris went ahead with the marriage! mar-riage! Because of her father. Ilsa had something to offer, while I had only myself. Why, he's nothing but an opportunist! What an idiot I was not to know at the time that, had he been a real person, he'd have told Ilsa he couldn't go on with the thing! And all these months, I've thought I loved him!" They were nearing the Cody place now, at the very outskirts of Haw-kinsville, Haw-kinsville, and Chris was pulling up at the side of the road. "Listen, Mary," he said, "I'm in love with you I've always been in love with you, and I want you to marry me, darling, as soon as I'm free." Here it was at last! Chris wanted her to be his wife. Chris had asked her to marry him. She had longed for months to be asked that question. ques-tion. Yet now that it had come, she felt a strange apathy towards the whole situation. He was leaning towards her now, searching her cool young profile for his answer. "How about it, Mary?" he persisted. "You will marry me, won't you, darling?" Mary turned and looked at him, feeling as if she were looking at a stranger; as if, indeed, she had never nev-er known this man. "No, Chris," she said slowly, and her heart was calm. "No, I can't marry you." "But, Mary! I thought . . ." "That I loved you, too? Well. I thought so myself, for a while, but I was terribly mistaken. I realize now that I not only did not love you but also, Chris, that I never really knew you. Let's go back to town, Chris. I'm anxious to get home." your message came, and then, today, to-day, when I simply couldn't get to see anybody alone, I began to feel sure . . ." "Mother found him in the garage, Mary," Ellen went on. "the doors closed, the ignition turned on. She clings to the idea that it was an accident and, Mary, that's what the verdict was, but I know and so do you . . ." "That it was suicide," Mary finished fin-ished in a whisper. "Yes, Ellen, he was frantic about money, and he felt the only way to save his family from poverty was to take his own life, so that we might have his insurance. in-surance. If only he'd waited another 24 hours, he'd have known it wasn't necessary to do such a dreadful thing! My novel's been accepted by a magazine, Ellen. They're going to pay me five thousand dollars for serial publicatirw only. Think of it five thousand dollars! And Dad committed suicide in order to give his family ten thousand dollars dol-lars insurance. "Yes," Ellen replied bitterly. "Ten thousand dollars only twice as much as you'll receive for your novel!" nov-el!" "And I'm going to sell other rights. I know I shall! And I could've taken care of the family! The irony of it Ellen! The tragedy! He gave up his life for his family's security and it was all so needless!" CHAPTER XVI June came and went but notwithstanding not-withstanding letters from Anthony Porter, Phil Buchanan, and Aunt Linnie, asking her to return to New York, Mary remained in Hawkins-ville. Hawkins-ville. Mr. Porter wrote that he was He Jumped from the car and came toward her. you weren't at home either time." "I know, Chris. I was sorry to miss you." "Are you going home now? Can I give you a lift?" "Yes I was going home." "Then, come on, my dear. I'll drive you into town." She glanced at the car. It was not the disreputable affair in which she had ridden with him last Christmas, Christ-mas, but, instead, a shining new model of expensive make. "You have a new car, Chris!" Doctor Cragg smiled sardonically. "Yes one little item that was saved from the wreck!" Mary looked puzzled. "The wreck of my marriage," he explained flippantly. "It was Ilsa's wedding present to me." Bewildered by the hard cynicism in his voice, she glanced sharply up at him. They were at the side of the car now, and he placed his hand on her arm to help her get in, but, to her surprise, his touch failed to affect her as it always had in the past. It seemed but the casual touch of any man going through the usual gesture that courtesy demands. Always Al-ways before, such slight contact with Chris had sent the blood tingling tin-gling in her veins, had made her heart beat with a foolish haste. He had taken his seat at the wheel now, and they were moving down Trilby Lane. At last, after all these months, they were together again! Yet, somehow or other, their reunion re-union was disappointing; the joy she had anticipated was not there. She felt so separate from Chris, so outside him. as though she were seeing him objectively for the first "I knew your mind was In chaos about something or other, Mary dear," he said tenderly, "and I didn't want to rush you. Yet, darling, dar-ling, I was getting terribly impatient" impa-tient" Mary looked down at the worn pattern of the living room rug. "But that confusion's all over now. Phil," she said, feeling as if a great weight were falling from her shoulders as she spoke the words. Phil put his hand under her chin, and looked searchingly into her eyes. "Well, then," he demanded, "how about answering that question ques-tion I asked you an eon or so ago? You see, I have to sail for England next week, and, dearest, I wish you'd marry me. and go .along." Mary touched his lean tan cheek with one of her hands. "Darling," she said softly, "I'll go anywhere in the world with you. 1 love you, Phill At last I know I love you!" Phil caught her in his arms, and holding her firmly against his heart, as if never again would he let her go, bent to kiss her lips. ; THE END! quite sure a certain well-known publishing pub-lishing house would shortly give her a contract for book publication of "Storm on the Mountain," and that it would be good business for her to be on hand for that, and other things to come. Phil, by wires and letters, all slightly stilted and businesslike, expressed his desire to see her back "where she now belonged"; while Aunt Linnie said that she was lonesome, lone-some, and longed for Mary to return re-turn to live with her indefinitely, if she liked. The reason for Aunt Linnie's loneliness, lone-liness, aside from the genuine affection affec-tion she held for her niece, was conveyed con-veyed to Mary in a letter from Le-lia. Le-lia. It read: Darling: I want you to be among the very first to hear that Jim and I are going to be married again, (or. had It not been for you. I mightn't have known until It was too late that he was 111 and broke, and that he needed r.ie terribly. 1 might have stayed Indefinitely on In Jamaica, but Instead, as you know, we boarded the first ship back to New York, and the very day we landed I motored out to Stamford to see him. The young doctor put one of his hands over hers as it lay on her lap. "You aren't angry with me for speaking of this," he asked apologetically, apolo-getically, "so soon after your your trouble?" Mary shook her head. "No," she replied, forcing a smile to her lips. "Not at all. I simply want to get home." He stared at her for one puzzled moment. Then, without a word, turned on the ignition, and, with a violent jerk, started down the road. "Thank God, that's over!" she told herself, as, in silence, they sped towards town. "Thank God, I've found him out! And to think of the months of agony that I've gone through for this man!" "I love Phil!" she told herself in wonder. "I've loved him all the time, and I was just too dazzled by false illusions of Chris to realize it. I must get back to him at once! I must see him at once! I wonder how soon I can leave for New York." And then, fearfully, "I haven't written to him for a week. time as a person apart from her. I "I want to tell you, Mary," he said, after they had driven some distance in silence, "how very sorry I was about your father. Vou have my sympathy . . ." "Thank you, Chris, I let's don't talk about Dad, please. I just can't seem to bear ..." "I know, my dear. I shan't say another word." And then, "Let's talk about my marriage!" There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "I suppose you've been told it's on the rocks that Ilsa's getting a divorce." yes," Mary said, "I've been told." Chris shrugged. "Nice mess, isn't it?" he inquired. "I didn't quite please the lady, and oh, well, the marriage should never have taken place. You know that as well as I do. Mary." "No." Mary thought, "no, the marriage never should have taken place and yet, it had! He said he loved me but he married Ilsa. Why? Why?" The question which had been tormenting her for months simply must be answered and answered an-swered now. She turned and looked at Chris, but his gaze remained steadily fixed on the road ahead pf him. "Then, why. Chris, why did you go on with if'she asked in a low voice. Chris drove on in silence. "I don't know, Mary." be replied at last He was there in our little house, terribly terri-bly ill and depressed, and cared for only by Anitau. the houseman; and when I opened the door and saw him lying on the lounge, thin and pale and discouraged. discour-aged. I knew that no matter what had happened in the past, he was my husband hus-band and that we must be together the rest of our lives. We're going to be married next week, with only Linnie and Phil Buchanan as witnesses, and we're going to live forever for-ever in this sweet little house. Jims still quite ill. but the doctors say that with rest and quiet and proper food, he will recover in time. I have plenty of monev for us both, and. alter all. practically everything I possess was given giv-en to me by him. I've not mentioned my happiness before, be-fore, my dear, because I didn't want to intrude it on your sorrow. Linnie says I've done the most sensible sensi-ble thing of my life, but she's Just a bit upsel over my giving up my New York apartment and "burying" myself in Connecticut. Con-necticut. She's a little lonesome. I think, and eager for you to return to New York and stay with her forever. How about it. Mary? Can you do it? Can your sweet mother get along without you? Surely, with all the success hats coming com-ing your way these days. New York s the place for you to live. But Mary, helping her mother to reconstruct her life, attempting to bring her stricken little brother back to normalcy, stayed on in the little Iowa town. And. too. Ellen and BUI Duryea had decided to marry soon, and she felt that she should do all she could to make their coming marriage as happy an affair as the circumstances would allow. They were going to live with Mrs. Lor ing: the wedding was, of course, to be a very quiet one; still there were |