Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-07-23
CHAPTER XVIII.

| ChAPIEh AAVlII.
 One glance the artist gave around hil own room--a brief. cynical, compre' hensive glance-then, avoiding touching one single thing which it contained, he unfastened again the door in the back of the cottage. which opened close upon the aeld-path to the valley; and this path he trnVersed in rapid silence. unti he came close Rpop that tarn in the hollow.
 Far from stunning or avoiding it, hs walked up to the brink, and Gin the gloom that was awful as deep darkness) stood gazing along the surface, his eyes still dim, his lips still stern and rigid. Then once more he resumed his rapid flight, and never pauSed again until he reached village staton some four miles from Churchill.
 The rain was falling now continuous | ly, and Fitz Spendir's coat and hat were soaked; but he avoided the booking office and the covered part of the station, and walked slowly to and fro upon the unsheltered platform. How would 1t be before the London train oame2 Would there be time for him to be stopped {? Even if the train were punctual, there was still half an hour to wait. He had better have fingered longer, he thought, in that heavy gloom among the hills.
 Half an hour! He would walk back. ward and forward just one hundred times-surely that would bring the hour near He walked as slowly as he could, the beating rain unheeded, and then he glanced through the office window at the station clock. A quarter of an hour nearer One hundred times more. Would the pursuing feet have reached him then, and ended it all? Or would the train be in timeP The second hum dred were finished; and then, Fitz, breathing rather hard and fast, but with no attempt at conceAling his face, en- tered the ticket-ofice, and bought Q second-class ticket to London.
 You've just escaped a disappoint- ment, sir, the station-master observed. Its only since this month began month you couldn't have gone."
 Fitz smiled as he pocketed his ticket.
 I'm lucky, then," he said, coollyI and the ran little guessed what mean ing the words bore.
 ., %; "I; s the tEaia generally pretty punOtu-
 Always pretty pqnotual, sir." was the answer. There's a goods train to run through first, and then 1t gener- ally follows as punctul As may be-"
 "Thanks."
 FitE had now turned to leave the office but another passenger, untitled up and laden, was entering, and so he had to stand a minute until the door way was free again. Standing so-still never hiding his face, but looking out clearly on everything about him-his eyes fell upon certain printed words that hung upon the wall, and they rest ed thore upon one line, which seemed to stand alone amidst the other Dnes, clearer, plainer, more distinct
 "He that iudgeth me is the Lord"
 Out on the platform once more, stand ing away from the light, in the drench- ing rain and looking eagerly into the words repeated themselves to Fitz again and again.
 At last the glaring red eyes met his watching ones, and an engine dashed up to him past him; away into the darkness behind ; and the goods train had left the station clear for the one for which he so breathlessly waited.
 He that judgeth me is the Lord"
 In the very blackness that encircled him, the words shone out not in letters of light or of fire, only just as he had seen them, black letters on white paper: simple, forcible, truthful, but with no outward reason to make them so, the force, the truth, and the simplicity lying in the words themselves.
 Would the train be in time, or would the pursuing footsteps-? An, no, not too late, for here it came, the fiery eyes steadily, swiftly rolling toward him, bringing rescue.
 Fitz drew back from the edge of the platform, and moved down again toward the lighted part of the station. It was coming now, close behind him. The whistle had died away in the silence. and the engines pace was slow and de- noerate; yet even now, with escape so close at hand, Fitz saw those words more plainly than aught else:
 "He that iudgeth me is the Lord"
 Was he whispering them to himself, or co1ld other voices
 "Almost exact to time, you see, sir" said the porter, opening Q carriage door near Fitz as the train stopped. "All right here, sir, It's wet enough stand ing where you've been."
 The carriage door stood wide open: the other passenger had taken his seat: the engine was getting up steam again. Beyond lay inscrutable darkness, and. beyond that. safety in the crowd and labyrinth of London. The pursuing footsteps had not been in time. Escape and rescue were here awaiting him. Why should those words delay himl
 The man held the door and waited, | Fitz took out shilling and put it quiet | y into his hand. He, at any rate, had l helped him, and was willing. unoon- sciously, to help him until the fear of | detection was passed-perhaps forever. Yet could he fly from judgment if He that judged him was the LordP
 "Quick, sir, please"
 And still Fitz hesitated, haunted by the echo of those words at which tbis man had gazed all day perhaps, seeing no meaning in them.
 "Please be quick, sir; there's no cause to stop"
 The answer was low and rapid