Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1916-10-20
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q e G1ARIASRe MANCE
5r Mr. AND NRS RuPERT EjaHE9 =. - m7z,=>
I'D MRS RUPERT HUGHE5 49,
CoprpIGuI IeIe BY ABEL AIDE y uuGAEJ

dread of publicity and she shared his
hatred Of publicity, but she would not
-elinuuish her demand for justice. She
realized, however, that she would have
no help now in her hunt for the murder
err. But this only strengthened her de-
termination. Alone she would unravel
the secret knot and bring the guilty to
punishment.
Meanwhile Lois, in her own pas
sionate way was suffering also,
but her suffering was tinged with
a certain amount of horrible sat
Isfaction. Death. instead of Gloria, nad
taken Freneau from her. Gloria could
not claim one smallest part of him from
her now. He had never cared one atom
for Gloria; ne had told her 50. 1t was
for financial reasons alone that he had
intended to marry Gloria, but she could
rot buy him now. Freneau had been
struck down in his youth and strength
by some fiend, but he was hers, hers
in death as he hao been in life. Neither
Gloria nor her own husband. David.
could ever. take him from her now.
Lois went to her dressing table, took
from a locked drawer her opera bag,
and drew from 1t the silver-framed
photograph of Freneau that she had
stolen from Gloria. Staring at it
longingly, she kissed il, then. pausing
with anxious jealousy, lifted 1t from
it's frame and read the inscription on
the back:
ITO Gloria, my only love. with all
my heart. Dick"
Lois recoiied from the words as if
they struck her in the face. Then, turn
ing the photograph toward her again.
she gazed at it searchingly. Suddenly
she smote it with her clenched fist and
threw il from her. But at once. with
swift revuision of feeling. she <nelt
and claspeG it to her bosoom again,
bursting into dry sobs and misery.
She was interrupted by q knock at
the door and the warning voice of her
maid: Miss Stafford is calling,
madam"
Lois was startled. She rose and
slipped the photograph beween two vol
umes in a book rack on a table and
called to her maid: SHOW Miss STAFF
ford up here"
Rushing to her dressing taole. she
hastily ran a powder puff over her face
and brushed back her hair
When she turned it was to confront
Gloria clad i'll heavy mourning. For a
moment the sight of the crepe stung
Lois to jealous frenzy; next she deter
minded to make some excuse to wear
blck herself. She felt that she had
better right to mourning than Gloria
had.
Advancing, she kissed GIoria's cool
cheek, mumbling: How are you, deaf?
Do you think you ought to be out on
such a cold day?''
"Oh, yes" answered Gloria listlessly.
Il thought a drive would do me good.
just dropped in on you for a moment"
Putting up her furs. Gloria wandered
aimlessly about the room, then sank
into a chair by the table. The women
eyed each other with constraint. Neither
wished to speak first of Freneau. Gloria
noted the haggard mien of Lois with
wonderment. Casting about for some
thing to say, she fumbled with the
books on the rack. The picture of FIRE.
neau fell out.
The, blood pounded in Gloria's heart
and spread a quick flush over her face
as she picked it up. She asked bewil-
deringly: How did this come here?"
Lois. controlling herself with Difficult
ty, tried to speak. 20
WAS il you. then. who stole it from
my. room?" Gloria hurled the question
with set lips and glittering eyes.
With a desperate inspiration Lois ex-
planned. Yes, stole it. I was going to
surprise you with it. And then he died"
Gloria was touched, and believed as
impulsively as she had suspected.
Throwing her arms about Lois, she
embraced her. Thank you, dear; it was
wonderful of you to think of that. But
don't take the trouble. 1 must go now"
protests of Lois. and left her. She took
the photograph with her, and Lois dared
not protest.
Far away in Colorado town
lived a woman who after all was most
to be affected by Richard Fren-
eau's death, for she had given him more
than Gloria with her young girls heart
or Lois with her guilty passion. She
had given him birth.
In a quaint, old-fashioned sitting
room the venerable, sweet woman was
sitting IN i rocking chair before the
fire. On her mantel were portraits of
Freneau as a child and as a man. She
put down her knitting anG rose with
some difficulty. Clinging to the mantel
she took down one of the Photographs
and turning it, read in the beloved
handwriting: ITO my darling mother
from her adoriug son. Dick" She kissed
the photograph and carried it back to
her chair.
An elderly maid brought in the
morning paper and a few letters. which
the mother ran through eagerly. Find
ing none from Dick she shook her finger
reprovingly but affectionately at the
photograph she then leaned back in
her chair to glance carelessly over the
paper.
Almost Immediately her eyes lighted
on the headlines announcing her sons
Death, with a hint of suicide. The
shock Of the news almost killed the
mother; for she was old End Dick was
her only child and she knew only the
good side of him. The evil. that he
wrought in the world was mercifully
kept from her.
The maid, hearing her moan, ran out
Of the house and fetched the doctor,
who was caring for her. He saw that
her disease was the incurable one that
mothers are often prey to. the loss of
their children. There was no remedy
for this In the doctors books and the
only help he could give was to answer
her one remaining wish that her sons
body should be brought home to be
buried in the family plot where his
father lay and where she hoped soon
to rest.
The doctor telegraphed the mothers
request to Freneau's partner, Frank
Mulry, and he took steps at once to
comply.
Continued Next 1ssue.)