The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1897-06-23
CHAPTER Ill.
FOR LOVES SWEET SAKE.

OooSSl
CHAPTER Ill.
FOR LOVES SWEET SAKE.
Like a visitant from the grave, a spec
tire appearing across the dim boundary
line Of life and death, the wan, worn fig
ure of Ray Webster filed the vision OF
the startled and amazed Flora.
Loyalty to the judgment OF a wise
father had closed her heart to any action
that would bring about written commu-
nication or a meeting with the man who
had betrayed a high business trust in
the eyes Of the world. and she had
counted their love as dead, but in
one flashing glance ct the pitiful
figure before her, Flora's mind forget
the impending peril of the hour-into
her true. womanly soul surged q wave
Of infinite pity. love and anguish, that
involuntarily wrung a cry like that of a
fair, wounded dove, from her lips.
Past love, present sympathy, intui-
tion illumined and enlarged, the mourn
full story that hangard face revealed. =
Suuern, ;|uespair, the fierce resentment
of q chained soul CALLING under its bonds,
wrong, injury, s~ufferiDg-all these lin
gered, eloquent, pleading, in the pose.
looks and accents Of the man who con-
fronted her. Innocence, too. As she
shrank, one reproachful glance from
Ray Webster's eyes told that she might
better have awarded him a dagger
thrust, than add to the bitterness of de-
spair by tacitly i%nsinuating that she, too,
even dreamed Of his being the guilty
wretch he had been adjudged!
Flora, my life, my love!" he painted,
advancing, his hands extended, his soul
quivering on the reception she would
award him. "Oh! the weary waiting
the torturing silence-but now, at LAST
In frantic, feverish distress she waved
him back. This was not the cringing
s%upplication of q hypocrit, a crimi-
nal. All, no! Above the prison rot, the
pallor of illness and suffering, there
shone in the a%ttenuated face the true
nobility OF the soul beneath, proud, I'M
furnished. The very boldness OF his ap-
proach overwhelmed he-. Breathless,
she recoiled.
"Waitr" she gasped. They told me
you we're"
'In PRISON." be interrupted quickly.
"Yes, but hope can burst stone walls,
despair disrupt iron letters. l did not
expect to meet you so soon. 1t was that
man, Arnold Dacre, 1 sought Tell me
Il am not too late? Tell me-he is
still at Ridgeville-he has not fed'-for
the score he yves my broken, blighted
life, must be paid, tears for tears, woe
for woe, heart-break for beart-5reak!"
"Arnold Dacrel"
Tumultously she gasIed the name, as
II a sudden revelation. Into her soul
flashed the true significance of the dark
hint Ray Webster's words conveyed. A
fierce accusation, a stern arraignment,
they seemed to hint at plot, villainy,
they illumined the vivid suspicion that
had famed into her W mind that morn
ing, that some hidden, sinister hand was
wreaking trouble, disaster against her
father, herself, and those she loved.
Then you thought me guilty?" cried
= D4 aAfsoi iREe i55f| 81 tyf r ~ hot be too late
yet. Father! father"
With a suddenness that startled Web
.ster, a feverish hope springing to her
eyes, Flora abruptly ran to the rivers
edge.
CHANGING across the bread stream once
more, she caught q last sight of the
horseman bound for the bank. With a
shock, her thoughts returned to her
father-to his environment, his peril.
Your father? yes, I see," spoke
Webster wonderingly. "You called
hin before-you are agitated.'
His life is menaced. Oh! he has
gone on" walled Flora, wriEging her
hands trantically, as the horseman again
disappeared from view. Twill no one
save him?"
From what?"
She turned upon the Questioner. her.
self the supplicant now. Amid her emo
tion, her ouivering hand sought his arm,
and rested there pleadinglY.
THE Bank" she painted incoherently.
HE must not 20 there. 1t is trouble, |
peril, perhaps death. The thirst for hfs
blood, that man Dacre says-a mad, |
LeckIess mob, for the bank has failed,
and"
j. -''Failed? oh! the heartless scoundrel.
His plots have succeeded, l understand
all! Flora, there is but one way to reach
to warn, to intercept your father-the
river"
He STEPPED to the remotest edge Of the
bank. Her eyes swept the surface Of
the stream which here ran at its swift
est. She knew its dangers, for q few
rods below the plunging falls tugged
at the current like a giant at stout
hempen ropes.
mo. no! not that way. The BRIDGE"
she cried.
The bridge? why, he would be in the
town before l could reach it, | am weak,
out of practice, but | was a good swim.
mer.once and"
Splash! Without another word, Ray
Webster precipitated himself over the
edge of the bank.
Come back"
A wall of love and distress, as that Of
some bride bereft stretching her empty
hands across the void that had swallowed
up a loved one. Flora Merwyn tottered
or the bank.
At the fervid duplication, the water
dashed face looked up into her own, H.
llumined now with a smile so proud, so
HAPPY, that Flora Merwyn thrilled wildly.
Their eyes met. No need tor the for
lorn fugitive to plead for a knowledge Of
her feelings toward him now! Anxiety,
apprehension, love beamed forth. Soul
to soul, they stood rehabilitatedl
81 will save him, / would swim through
a sea Of molten fire to know what your
dear eyes tell mel" he cried, his voice
ringing with Joy. "Oh! my love. my
1ove, if death meets me yonder, remem-
Der l am innocent, but strong the current