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THE ZEBULON RECORD, ZEBULON, NORTH CA ROLINA, FRIDAY, MARCH 25,1938 SIIININO PALACE By CHRISTINE WHITING PARMENTER I hriUinr Whiliaq l*»iriu«i»t«T W\f SERVICE THE STORY CHAPTER I—James Lambert tries In vain to dissuade his beautiful foster daughter, Leonora, from marrying Don Mason, young "rolling stone,” whom he likes but of whom he disapproves ac cording to his conventional business-man standards. He tells her, "Unless a house is founded upon a rock, it will not sur vive.” Leonora suspects the influence of her half-brother, Ned, always jealous of the girl since the day liis father brought her home from the deathbed of her mother, abandoned by her Italian bari tone lover. Don arrives in the midst of the argument, and Lambert realizes the frank understanding between the two. CHAPTER ll—Sitting up late Into the night, Lambert reviews the whole story, of Nora as a child, at boarding school, studying music abroad, meeting Don on the return trip. In the morning he de livers his ultimatum, to give Don a job with Ned for a year’s showdown. When Nora suggests the possibility of running away with Don, Lambert threatens dis inheritance. Don agrees to the job, but before a month is over, his nerves are jumpy, he cannot sleep at night, he is too tired to go out mucn with Nora, and admits to her that he feels stifled. Nora soothes him with her music. He falls asleep and his face is more peaceful than it has been in many weeks. CHAPTER lll—Nora grows quieter, and broods over Don, complains to her father of Ned's spying on him, and de cides that rather than see Don's spirit broken, she will run away. She urges her father to put an end to the futile ex periment. James Lambert is obdurate and angry. Lambert tells her that if Don quits she will quit with him; that he will be through with her. He adds that If she tires of her bargain it will be us* less to pome to him for heln CHAPTER IV—With the coming of spring, Don is full of unrest and wander lust, and takes long walks at night. One evening a poor girl speaks to him, and in his pity for her, he gives her money. A car passes at that moment, flashes headlights and moves on. A terrific heat wave ushers in the summer, and Nora refuses to go to the country with her father. Ned, meanwhile, insinuates to his father about Don's evenings away from Nora, but Lambert refuses to lis ten. Meanwhile, Don broods over the un dermining of his moral** CHAPTER V—At the height of tha heat wave, when Don is finding every thing insupportable, Ned speaks of hav ing the goods on him, having seen him give a girl money. When Ned scoffs at the true story of the episode, Don knocks him down, and is through. He calls Nora, who insists on running away with him to get married, realizing it is her job to restore Don’s faith in himself. Her good-by to her father is met with comnlete silence CHAPTER Vl—Don and Nora go to Maine and settle down in the studio of Carl Venable, a famous artist friend of Don’s, whose daughter he saved from drowning. Nora writes her father. There is no answer, except her baggage, con taining her entire wardrobe, and SI,OOO hidden in a gold mesh bag. The postmaster produced one let ter. Nora’s heart quickened as he held it out, quickened until she saw the foreign stamp. ‘‘ls it from Mr. Venable?” Don nodded, tearing it open ea gerly, for once unmindful of her dis appointment. He read it sauntering along the village street, his wife’s hand on his arm preventing him from col liding with trees or light posts. He smiled as he read —chuckled —lost to everything save this message from his friend; and for the mo ment Nora felt strangely shut out— forgotten. Then Don turned, and she saw that his eyes were shining with some awakened interest. “I just skimmed through the thing,” he told her happily. “I’ll read it aloud soon as we reach the shack. Ven writes a bully letter. He wants us to join them in Italy next month, Nora. Says there’s no end of things I could do and write about— knows an English editor who’s keen for that sort of stuff and will pay well for it —says that Con stance wants to know—“ Don grinned at the thrust—“if I’m still oblivious to the necessity of filthy lucre! What do you think of the plan, darling? How does a winter at Capri appeal to you? You’re sure to fall for Ven and Connie and the youngsters. And they’ll love you, Nora. They’ll bow right down and worship or I miss my guess. We're foot-loose now. I can’t perceive a single reason why we shouldn’t do it. Let’s go.” And Nora, who was beginning to suspect a good and sufficient rea son for staying home, looked into her husband’s eager face, lighted once nqore with tins love of roaming that was so much a part of him, and answered gamely; “Let’s!” On a crisp October day some three weeks later they sailed for Naples. Despite a promise of win ter in the air, Nora left the “shack” almost reluctantly; and remember ing the dismay with which she had regarded the place a few months earlier, was forced to smile at her changed attitude. But it was home to her now. When, the girl asked herself, and with just cause, per haps, would they have another? Don, absorbed in eager prepara tions for the new adventure, felt no regrets—no visible regrets, at least. This hurt Nora a little, foolish though she knew the hurt to be. Per haps, she mused, her husband would feel differently were he aware of the secret she was guarding. But it must remain a secret until they got away. On that Nora was re solved. Otherwise Don might sense her ridiculous dread of starting out for a foreign country at just this time —might even insist on chang ing all their plans; and that, she argued, wouldn’t be fair to him. Aft er all, hadn’t she married this “sol dier of fortune” with her eyes wide open? Hadn’t she known he’d never be happy tied to a home? And there was no sane reason why they shouldn’t go. If she had a mother to be near her here—a sister —but there was no one, not even a father as things stood now. Why should she care? And like a beacon light, its cheer ful rays piercing the fog, was the steadying thought of Constance Ven able. Leonora was pondering on this one afternoon when she tramped alone up the deserted beach. The shack was in order, ready for their early departure in the morning. Don had accompanied Jim Perkins to the station with their luggage (“Such swell luggage, dar ling,” he said gleefully, “thanks to your father for sending on those steamer trunks!”); and Nora, overcome with what she considered an unwarranted attack of homesick ness, was making a gallant effort to walk it off. Yes, she was thinking as she watched a gull dive gracefully down in search of sustenance, there would be Constance Venable. Don had told her so much about the older woman that she seemed a friend. Constance had had four children. Philip, the youngest, was born abroad. It was silly to worry, even for one minute. Connie would tell her what to do, of course. Nora moved softly, not wishing to disturb a flock of sandpipers hurry ing along in the wake of a receding wave; but at her cautious step they seemed to sense some danger, lifted their wings and “like the famous ladybug,” thought the girl whimsi cally, “flew away home.” Watching their swift, sure passage she found herself envying those birds a little. They recalled some words she must have heard in childhood. A verse out of the Bible, wasn’t it? “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head.” How true that was of a vagabond like Don! And how long, wondered Don’s wife, had those old, old words lain dormant in her brain, wait ing to stir at sight of a flock of sandpipers flying to shelter? Nora turned toward the dunes, wishing (although she couldn’t have said why) to gaze on something less restless than the sea; conscious that nostalgia still had the upper hand. Somehow, it must be van quished before Don returned. Their last honeymoon supper must be a happy one—happy for both of them. “But I’m pretty tired and shouldn’t have walked so far,” she told herself as the stable they’d ex plored not long before came into view, its varicolored cupola win dows sparkling like jewels in the sunlight. There was a seat in front of the old barn: a pew from some abandoned church. Why not rest there for a while—feast her eyes on that matchless vista of curving shore beyond the bay—get back her calmness, and then go home to Don? What a beautiful place! Nor* breathed deeply the sweet scent at balsam. How her father would love it! And with this thought she saw Into her own heart, facing the knowledge that her reluctance in go ing so far away lay in the fact that she could not reach James Lambert should he need her. True, he had been curiously, unforgiving one who had forgiven so much in others. In their tragic parting he had been neither fair to Don nor generous to herself. Yet the girl knew that if anything happened (that fateful “anything” we cannot voice), her father would send for her. She knew that should she fail to come safely through the “valley of the shadow” which lay ahead, he would be at her side —with Don — when the lights went out. And she was going away, far, far beyond the reach of those steady, comforting hands she loved so dear ly. Nora’s eyes misted. The love ly, distant shore became a blur. A lump rose in her throat. She could not swallow it; and said, aloud, a valorous effort to pull herself to gether: “Hold tight, Nora! Don’t be a baby. Everything has its price, hasn’t it? Did you really expect to avoid paying? Be your age, can’t you? Remember you’re not a butter fly any more. (It’s just as well Dad kept those silver slippers!) Don’t you dare cry or I’ll be ashamed of you. I —” She sprang up, startled, hearing nothing, yet cannily aware of an approaching presence. Then she saw Don emerging from between the highest dunes. He waved; came toward her rapidly. Not even that dragging sand, she noticed, could take the lightness from his tread. “Gee! woman, you gave me the dickeps of a scare!” He sank quite breathless onto the old pew, draw ing her down beside him. “I actu ally wondered for a moment (a ter rible moment, Nora!) if you’d been kidnaped. Then I discovered your footprints in the wet sand and the rest was easy. But don’t you dare run off like this again and leave no message. I’ve got a—a palpitation! Feel my heart.” “You goose!” said Nora; and at something in her voice Don turned, scanning her closely. “Why, what’s the matter?” “Nothing. I’m just a little tired.” “Nonsense! I think you’re home sick.” “Only—only a bit. We’ve been so happy here.” He smiled at that “Is happiness a matter of loca tion, silly?” “Os course not, but . . She hesitated, and Don said with mock severity: “Listen to me. Mad am. Something has given you the blues —our last day, too! I sha’n’t al low it. What does it matter where we are, if we’re together? Why, we’re going to have a wonderful winter, Nora! Italy. The narrow streets of Capri. Warmth and sun shine. Good friends like Ven and Connie when we want ’em; and al ways each other, sweetheart. Why are you sad?” “No reason,” admitted Nora, smiling at him. “No reason at all." Then in a defensive effort to change the subject: “Don, do you realize what we’re sitting on?” He turned, stood up, regarding a carved post with interest. “It looks like —it is a pew out of some old church, Nora. Do you see this carving? It must have been done in the days when carpentry was an art, and a man worked for the love of his task, as we all should now. A pew! A real old-fashioned pew, isn’t it? Say! can’t you imag ine the family that used to occupy it? First Mother, rustling up the aisle on Sunday morning in her best black silk, followed by three—no—” (his eyes were measuring the seat’s capacity) “four kiddies, hushed and important, each one clasping his penny for the contribution box. And lastly, Father —very dignified, you know, and a bit uncomfortable in his Sunday suit —shoes squeaking a little; while some prim old maid (the village music teacher), plays soft music on a melodeon . . . See it, Nora?” “See it!” Nora’s troubles were lost in this picture of Don’s imagi nation. “Why, it’s every bit as plain as if I’d been there. Do you know, Don, I—l believe you could write a book!” Don laughed at the thought, his eyes still on the ancient carving. “Maybe I could—a book that no body but you would read. Do you know,” he added after a thought ful moment, “it goes against every thing in me, leaving a splendid piece of work Hke this to be battered by the tempests of a New England winter. Why, it’ll be buried in snow for weeks and weeks, Nora! Doesn’t seem right, does it— a pew out of an old church? If I knew who owned the thing I— l believe I’d buy it and oart it to the shack. Whet ley we set it inside the barn, deer? This oor’s not locked, I believe. I tried it the other day.” Then he turned about, slowly, and Nora saw that her husband’s thoughts were far away from that weather-beaten stable beside the sea. (Continued Next Week) FOR SALE! Several lots on Arrendall Avenue. See D. D. CHAMBLEE PAUL V. BRANTLEY OIL CO. PHONE 2611 ZEBULON, N. C. WHOLESALE PETROLEUM PRODUCTS EXPERT LUBRICATION FIRESTONE TIRES * ■lir 4 1 Ti ■III ifiryi W Hi _ M. EXTRA H I Remember, please—when you take a Smith Brothers Cough Drop jj (Two kinds—Black or you get an extra benefit:- | Smith Bros. Cough Drops are the#nly drops containing VITAMIN A This is the vitamin that raises the resistance of the mucous membranes of the nose and throat to cold and cough infections. Professional Cards IRBY D. GILL Attorney & Counselor at Law Phone 2281 Zebulon, North Carolina DR. J. F. COLTRANE Dentist Office Hrs. 9-12:30—1:30-5 M. J. SEXTON INSURANCE DR. CHAS E. FLOWERS Physician and Surgeon Office hx. -s 8:30 - 10 a.m. l-3 p.m. ! Phone Off. 2881 Res. 2961 Back of Frank Kannans’ DR. L. M. MASSEY Dentist Phone 2921 Hrs. 9 a.m. to 5 p. m. Office in Zebulon Drag Bldg. For Insurance of All Kinds and FARM LOANS see D. D. CHAMBLEE ft PLUMBING AND ELECTRICAL SERVICE Aaywtora Aartimt BILL STRICKLAND Patronize our advertisers. U. S. Approved, Pullorem Tested BABY CHICKS Hatch each Wednesday. Barred Rocks, Rhode Island Reds, English White Leghorns. ZEBULON HATCHERY IZebulon, N. C. Business Cards ZEBULON SUPPLY CO. We Feed & Clothe The Family And Furnish The Home FUNERAL DIRECTORS J. M. CHEVROLET CO. CHEVROLETS OLDSMOBILES New and Used Cars Factory Trained Mechanics J. A. KEMP AND SON Groceries Dry Goods FUNERAL DIRECTORS Phone 2171 LITTLE RIVER ICE CO. Quality and Service Phone 2871 CAROLINA POWER AND LIGHT COMPANY NOW Electricity is Cheap Phone 2511 A. A. WELLS Wood and Iron Worker Horsehsboeing—Repairing of any tool oi implement on the farm N. C. JOHNSON BROTHERS JEWELERS Watch Makers Jewelry Zebulon, N.C. Everything To Build Anything MASSEY LUMBER 00. Zebulon, N. C.
Zebulon Record (Zebulon, N.C.)
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March 25, 1938, edition 1
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