"THE GOLDEN BED”
By WALLACE IRWIISI.
Produced a* a Paramount Picture by Cecil* B. DeMili* From a Screen
Adaptation by Jeanle Marpheraon.
*“ (Coeyrlaht 1114)
(Continued (ram Yonterdur.)
So Margaret Peake Mded her time,
nwaiting an opportunity to open the
even and ears of a man who had
Imposed nolltude and silence upon
himself. He let her see him every
day, and she began to feel his unex
pressed reliance on her strength.
Sometimes Rhe would coax hint to
dine with her at her apartment and
they would paRR long Winter eve
nings talking on the most common
place subjects. Occasionally he would
give her little scraps of his early
history, then check himself suddenly
Hi If ashamed of revealing too much
of his early beginnings. On her
shelves he found a set of popular
sijentlllc books, and he liked to hear
her read from these—or seemed to.
The origin of the world and of lower
- life and of man, shrewdly guessed at
by methodical thinkers of loday, came
as fresh news to Admali Holtz. The
very impersonality of scientific nar
rative had an elTect of charming him
away from the self-spell which he
hail cast about him. Sometimes he
would come unexpectedly out of his
reserve and ask a question pathetical
ly reminiscent of the sentimental Ad
mail who had once turned Ma Holtz's
peppermint board Into a headstone
for her grave.
"Margaret," he said once, “I never
saw that monument 1 ordered for
Flo Lee. I wanted It to be sort of
lacy and light. She couldn't stand
it under, one o' those big, lumberin’
tombs."
At this remark Margaret glanced
ai him keenly. Not yet, thought she,
had the King's curtains parted to
show his shsdowy spirit, blacker than
the blackness.
its Then one afternoon, very busy with
the day’s commonplaces In her bright
new office, his voice came over the
wire.
"Margaret, I wonder if you could
find time to run out to the Place with
me?”
"You mean the River Boulevard?'
"Yes. There's a few things that
belong to your family out there. The
lie Longs want to move In the first
of next week. I thought you'd know
what 1 ought to take out—"
Almost eagerly she acceded to hu
request, for she had heard a new note
of interest in .his voice.
A fragrant swirl of odds and ends
that might have meant nothing or
everything; such were the contents
of bureau drawers that Margaret
opened one after another; Flora Lees
possessions had always looked like
that, a careless jumble of pretty, un
related things, faintly sweetened by
ber own perfume. She might have
been there yesterday, quarreling,
laughing, gibing at the figures In her
little world. ...
How quiet the room was. and how
cold: Manv of the wardrobe doors
wore unlocked and very few garments
hung on the poles. The servants, no
doubt, had helped themselves. It was
just as well, perhaps. Provided with
the keeps which Admah had Ejven
her. Margaret opened the cloghea
chests and found a number of lovely
dresses which Flora Lee might have
worn twice and laid aside. Horn
their folds the same fine scent float
ed up., a ghostly reminder of the
woman whose body lay mouldering
under a light and lacy tomb.
Save for the thin gathering of dust
on polished surfaces and relics ot
Inst year's spider webs, woven from
rung to rung among »h* ' hair legs.
A the apartment might been de
serted hv Flora Lee half on hour ago
1, was a trifle too orderly. though;
the servants, apparc ? y. had made
an effort to tidy the \* ioe after their
last plundering. Many photographs
Stared from their frames, wearing po
lite gallery smiles. She >iad
■ everything of that sort- A plOur*
of Admah and Flora !>ee immediately
afi-r their wedding smiled from a
corner of a bureau-Admah looked
SO voting It was hard to believe that
the same man lurked downstairs,
afraid to revisit the rooms of that
11 Margaret^broke the glass of several
. i ,,tore thorn, towed them into
* wastebasket. The wedding portraH
was among them; then there was one
of OA’Nelll whom she had -non.n
when he was a pink-cheeked, diffident
hoy . what wa. It that Flora I.ee had
'''She'glanced swiftly around the bed^
room with Its quiet. stale air and
drawn blinds. The Venetian ^
spreading swans, the painted mirrors
and pallidly gllded dressinS ' ^
and Flora Lee had died In »
,„hss bed heside a Rheetdron gasiva^
er that smelled to heaven.
Ewt “detected: poverty, dlngtness,
ugliness. . • • _ ij
Margaret looked up and saw
"’••You ‘needlT' bother about these
, (util* «.,">(« jj hu°“yM Sum.,
had formed across his «> ■ ,
thing that bad cloudod^bt.
seemed to "’’P . t k|nK In every
"uuo thlfl miKoiy , «
d-wied. "^.^Vr'lghT^reVf h'er
^ old nHf. * . gnybodv *1**
^ w.„ mM snd^ have
i", ‘her ‘things pot I" «<"'***
rsrsfrjs
Of their loves. to come
i ll telephone M<1 .....
he, '"’’“he '"^^'^r’guardls"" 'swan*'
hand on one of winK very
11.. nVandmoth** **
gently as Oran H T curls
n 0 eyes rested on the <over
I ben bis eyes 1,, ,,light from
ltd' which she ha , ,t „eat
France; old Unds, had *|U( ^ (.or.
1v over the maltr ss-nj ^ „ ,w»n
tior a. Ang, P" , . »n up urn
were sllkenly presented In
t.cu»iue of foliage. ",h* d„v„.g
SI* eSiiK!
y.v-irjsar.trtS'*
ll,'.'rreckon *‘«|Vbetter save tbs*, too."
lis bit his lip. fried out
but .he restrained her
J.hli, bl‘ nt on. “gome
oelf In time andI hrw „ „ ,he
how T never '* * ,t w«» that
nthpr thin**. ** T ^on*t know
French motto on ■ . she re
env French. ,'n^lh"upon her
^TsU. ”What does It mean. Mar
might I’sve been asking Whs;
life meant and the gam
-.sra--;wsssrrv
•'s'*'1, V.. ..vo wit to her tempt*
«oT„ .nnd ported the .eript out, line
* felthfuln.-, Z
pheasant for luxury, the *w.n
luak”
"I see," he mumbled, and stood
looking at it for an instant. Then,
"What's all -that fancy work—the
crown and shield and bird in the mid
die? What's that for?"
"That's the arms of the family for
whom the spread was made," she ex
plained.
"What family?" He was like a chief
inquisitor.
Savarar s," she half whispered, as
If his question had drawn to her lips
what her mind had long suspected.
Admah had his lightning flashes
when two and two came thunderously
together. Vet there was no haste in
his movements as he reached down
and plucked the eoverlld from Flora
I .re's bed. He made no attempt to
fold It, but dragged It after him. hold
Ing It far away from his body as
though it might carry the germs of
a disease.
He had built a fire in the imitation
Italian fireplace downstairs; a basket
of torn papers started It, but swal
lows' nests in the chimney spoiled the
draft. At last, however, the flames
began to leap; and although smoke
poured out into the room, he set him
self methodically to destroy the
French coverlid. Tt was a work of
piety, almost, like purging the sin
front little Flora Lee's soul; like driv
ing a stake through the heart of the
sleeping vampire that she may be
saved from the demon that obsesses
her.
Strip after strip, he tore the fragile,
lovely thing apart and watched the
fragments burn. The soft material
yielded gently to his fingers as Flora
Lee sometimes yielded. As the shim
mering texture hurst into flames that
were brighter than itself he had a
feeling that his love was burning on
this pyre, a cleasing, sacrificial flame.
Against the world's scourging he
had held to his belief in Flora Lee;
through ruin, betrayal and degrade
tion he had clutched at the wreckage
of his faith. But this ornate bed
cover which she had cherished and
failed to explain; that had held a key
to his enigma. It had come to her
cynically, dishonestly, embroidered
with wicked words. . . .
Those very words on their scroll of
metal thread glowed Infernally as he
crouched and watched them burn. A
mysterious ooxe of smoke, clouding
the twilit room, added to the unreal
ity In which he sat, gloating upon
the charred symbols. But Flora Lee
wasn't to blame. Suddenly that con
viction eante to him In, a rush of pity
for the little thing who had begged
Jewels of him as she hail once begged
peppermints. Just the way shed
been raised, thought he. Just the
way she'd never been taught to look
out for anything or anybody—not
pven for herself, whom she loved so
devouringly. Maternity and work and
self-denial . . . dolls don't have to
consider such things . . . neither do
angels. She’d been born to give
pleasure, and how had she used her
gift? To enslave and torment. . . .
Yet if she had returned to Admah
Holt* at that moment. . . .
A shadow moved across the room,
and in the foggy atmosphere and low
glamour of flame he saw a face that
chilled his heart at first, then stirred
him to an irresistible desire. He he
held her In a suffused radiance. . . .
Flora Lee. her bright hair a gleam,
her eyes pitiful . . . death had given
her a look of understanding for Ad
mah Holts. Beautiful and compas
sionate in the faint ghost light, she
floated toward him. He wanted to
call her name, to reach out to her
but hi* bAdy was motionless, his lips
stiff. . . .
It was not until she had come to
the hearth beside him that he looked
again and saw that it was Margaret.
"Don't," she begged softly, for she
must have known by his foe what
torrents were breaking in his breast
He struggled agaiji for words, but
none came Instead he grouped foi
her hand and laid It against hi.* pool
wounded heart.
"Don't you ever go away. Mar
garet!" he began to |>lead like a lost
child.
"Is it true, dear, that you want
me?" she asked, and settled oh the
hearth beside him.
Her arms were around him anil hr
Was holding her desperately, hiding
his face to conceal his shameful tears.
Then in contact W’ith her tine body
strength began to flow back to him.
in the uncertain firelight he looked at
her with a new wonder and saw what
before he had been too blind to see
she was very like Flora Lee. hut with
a knowledge and a tenderness that
her sister could never have shown.
"Do you think you could—" he tie
gan. but his speech failed again.
“Could what. Admah?" she asked,
studying him thoughtfully.
“—could ever love me?"
"Oh. Admah, my dear, my dear?
She paused an instant, then kissed
him gently. "Don't you know how
long I have?"
"I don’t think I've ever seen any
thing." he confessed. _
“No, dear boy, you haven’t. I’ve
wanted you for myself—I’ve wanted
to lock you away from—from things,
to take care of you. It wasn’t fair,
Admah. Not to cither of us. Think
of what we might have been! It
wasn’t fair, it wasn't
"I reckon it wasn't,” he said, and
because she was weeping gently he
kissed hot* and touched her cheek.
“To see you treated like a dog right
under my eyes when all you needed,
Admah—” She drew him closer to her
and again caressed him as a mother
might have done -“all you needed was
me. Hut you do love me now, my
dear? You do?’’
“Yes, honey,” he responded, and
that was the truth.
Or was it truth? If love Is an in
toxicating thing, pleasing and destroy
ing like !i drug, then Admah had none
of it left for Margaret Henke. Hut if
it is a warming essence, restoring
blood to a cold heart and color to a
gray mind, the thing lie felt was
love.
For an indefinite time these two
beings, so different In origin yet so
akin in the tilings of which life had
cheated them, clung together beside
a dying fire. Was it love that Ad
mail felt? Cert a inlv it was a depth
of comfort in the richness of her
voice and the touch of her delicate,
capable hands as she held him to
her and whispered premises that he
knew she would fulfill. How they
weren't afraid of anything any more,
or ashamed of anything. How they’d
stand together, or fall together, it
necessary* But they wouldn't fall.
They’d he too strong, the two of
rhetu, to let any fate topple them
over.
And he promised to he brave again
for her. to give the world the best
there was In him To he a man. . . .
Then he remembered how he had giv
en that same promise into the ear of
a dying old woman, his mother. . . .
How long ago had that been? Half
a lifetime, at least. He had worked
powerfully, according to his poor
lights, to keep that promise, but the
world, the flesh and the devil had
conspired to make a sorry job of
it. . . .
And with Margaret in his arms and
his heart comforted by her warmth,
he remembered how he had sat in
this same room with Flora Fee; they
would kiss and caress, and his pulses
would he heating like a drum. And
all that time his heart would he cry
ing out. My darling, don't you know
me? Won’t you ever know me? Why
in that year of misery and struggle
and occasional ecstasy had he nevor
felt the presence of a guardian spirit,
vainly watching over him. offering
her life and asking no reward? Truly
there is no justice in love, for love
is Nature.
So at last Margaret and Adrnah
came together, embracing very sweet
ly in the flicker of a cooling tire
Symbols of many things, once signifi
cant in his life, lay charring In the
hearth and curling to shapeless cln
drShe loved to see them go; had
she been given her way she might
have put torch to every gilded urna
ment.
"It'S sort o’ queer,” she heard him
mutter when the fire had died and
they sat In darkness.
"What’s queer, my cleat eat?” she
asked.
"It ought to have been you and
me—”
"How many thousands of thousands
of times I’ve said that,” she mused.
"But how could I have told you? Yes,
it should have been from the first.
But when was the first—the first time
you were ever real to me?" Site
paused and considered. "Was it the
time you came down In ness Street
in your bright new clothes? I was an
awful little snob in those days. Rut
Just the same. I must have loved you
because 1 wanted to save you—”
"From what. Margaret?”
"From something . . . something
that seemed to be following you. . . .
Maybe 11 was just your awful inno
c ence. We were both starting on the
wrong track, Admah. And how we
needed one another!”
"I reckon so.” he agreed, and they
were silent again for a long time.
Yes. he thought, had she saved him
that day he would never have known
his years of hell. No, nor his hour
of heaven. He would never have
known Flora I/C*e.
As they drove home under the
stars, i>ast skeleton trees and ghostl\
plots of snow she was thinking; What
can I do to help him most? Rus.n
with the wneel, her eyes on the road,
she felt the presence of her beloved
man and wondered if she had made
him any happir. He reached out
once, timidly, and touched Iter glove.
"You don’t mind that, do you, Mar
garet?" he naked.
"Mind what. Admah?’*
"Oh, nothing.'1 But he rested his
hand on hers again/ and she knew
by the pressure that his fears had
vanished. On the smooth surface of
the Boulevard her car gained impe
tus; there were lights in the Sycamore
clubhouse and the sounds of inr.y,
music. She put on more speed and
shot by.
When the rows of electric lamps on
the edge of town had brought the
dreamers back to practical thoughts
it was Margaret who spoke first.
"Admah, people will talk. But
that's all tight. We ought to be mar
ried soon. We mustn't be wasters,
and we shouldn't squander any time."
"When shall it be?" lie asked.
"Tomorrow," she decided. "We can
take over my apartment for a while
until wre look arAund and see where
we want to live. Let’s begin our
new program right away. We’ve got
a lot of things to show the world
about ourselves."
"I was thinking about a business—"
"Oh. I’ve found the business." she
told him with a little happy laugh.
"Where?”
".lust where you were "
"But the T. At P. don’t—"
"Who eares a red cent about the
T. A* P?" asked she. "We’re going
to he self-made men. Admah. We re
going 10 start at the beginning and
work up."
And because he was unresponsive
she turned and said, •'Old foolish!" in
a voice tlint reminded him again of
Flora I,ee.
■What sort of beginning?" lie
naked.
"The candy business. Well go
round to your brother on Friday—
that's my lucky day—and dickPr for
a share in hia Red Front. 1 see ten
thousand things that can be done in
that place. And we'll start the Candy
lloltz chain again—"
"But. Margaret, you wouldn't!"
“Wouldn't what?"
“Go into a business like thst. A
line lady like you—"
"That's exactly what a fine lady
like me would do, under the circum
stances." she informed him. and there
were both pride anil tenderness in
her tone.
So they drove on Into Grand Ave
nue. where the glare and twinkle of
electric signs, counterfeiting Broad
way. took on a new moaning for
Adnmh Holtz. Kven the ear-hurling,
sentimental broadcast howl from
Hoofer's Radio Palace came to him
as music, for il suggested life and
enterprise. At the corner by the Red
Front Store Margaret slowed her cat
and both looked In with a renewed
interest. . . . Dingy cut-out ad\ertise
nients lor patent thirst-quenchers
stood hugger mugger In the window.
Myrtle was sopping the counter with
a rag which Admah knew must be
very dirty and very sour. Henry and
a hob haired girl with green earring*
were seated on revolving stools, mak
ing love over chocolate sundaee.
Somewhere In the iwokground moved
Jo, bald, stooped, shrunken, dis
couraged. . . .
And the stronger, more Intemperate
brother, spying in from the street,
felt a little sorry fo> Jo. whose voyage
had been serene because his boat liad
never ventured beyond the muddy
canal.
iThe F.nd 1
New Building Planned
at Kearney Fair Grounds
Kearney, Feb 11—Buffalo County
Fair association went on record as
Savoring the erection of a merchants’
building at the fair grounds this sum
mer. In tlie past displays of mer
chants have been curtailed by limited
space in the horticultural building.
It was unanimously decided to re
tain the night fair feature. The ex
ecutive committee has designated the
opening day as Kearney day, the fec
und day is set aside for the farmers
and the closing day for the children.
Definite dates for tlie fair remain
to be set.
Teaching Staff Re-Elected.
Cambridge. Feb, 11.—The school
board has reelected the entire teach
ing staff for next year.
THE NEBBS THE FAMILY TREE. Dlracted for Th* Omaha Bee by So! Hen
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RRINGING IJP FATHFR „ SEE jiggs and magcie IN full Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus
DlXlnVjlllVj Ul U. I. Mm OIIIm PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE (Copyright 1»2S)
J err collv- ive cot the iT-3 JOL-lv nice
IDEA To MAKE MACCIE AN OE TOU To INVITE
OAUCHTER EORCIT THEiR me T° TOOR
Jquarrel am-bPEAvc-ill —home to
INVITE COUNT OE COUPONS.L - MEET TOUR
TO COME HOME WITH ME THETLL EAMILT*
CbOTH WANT TO MEET HIM THAT
I
. . . . ... - -
JERRY ON THE JOB LET US HAVE PEACE Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban
(Copyright 1925)
-*- — I -—- -- _ —
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; —TH 4M VOU ^SOU'T CHZTAiM
nOWO *■ NOU ) ,4no V/MtiOUS' "TtUM&r = TO
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v S/vuer- J v_
That Guiltiest Feeling
(-' -’ 1 - —
Say pac- Teacher
5AiD we should
ask OUR FATHERS / ;
SOMETHIN'^ about J • /
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tme r- ,
|tOI-"ORM AT I O fO / ( '>) ,,
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♦
ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
Frr«h From the Slor*.
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[ That i m taking to a
;\ feller »iys warm 'tet