Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1898-07-20
CHAPTER II.-CONTINUED.

They were running swiftly down
grade now, following the windings OF
the San Mateo, but she made a rush
for her section, grabbed the hand
some silver-mounted bag that lay just
within reach, and with bowed head and
bent form was fastening on, when the
forward trucks struck sharp curve,
the big car gave a sudden lurch that
tumbled her into the section directly
in front of the blissful couple, and
sprawled her ANONYMOUSLY upon the
front seat. The occupant of the other
was a snoring commercial traveller. Her
bag dropped in the crash, fell to the
floor, and burst open, and before she
could recover herself or it's contents,
the man in gray had sprung to her aid,
had bundled an escaping scent-fask
and other trifes back into the recepta-
Gle, shut it's silver lips with a snap,
and, bowling courteously, endeavored
to restore it. Averting her face-cov-
ering it almost with her handkerchief
she strove to rise and go her way, but
the car still swayed and swung. He put
forth a helping hand to lift her to her
feet, but she did not see it. Scrambling
out, still hiding her face, she seized
again her satchel, and, never looking,
never speaking, hurried past him and
disappeared at the forward end of the
car, leaving Merriam gazing blankly,
fixedly after her.
didn't she speak to you at all?"
asked the bride, a moment later, as
Merriam, with strange, dazed look
on his face, returned to his seat by her
side. "I'm afraid she's >dreadfully hurt,
for her knee struck the seat-arm ever
so hard"
And still Merriam could not speak.
''What is it, Randy" she whispered,
after moments anxious study of his
face. "You look so-unlike yourself"
With an effort he pulled himself to-
gether. "Did you see her face, Floy,
dear? What was she like?"
"Why, she's blonde witG-I only got
glimpse, Randy-she's blonde with
light hair and blue eyes. She might
be pretty. Why, dear?" And the dear
came so timidly.
II thought had seen her before,
but it's mpossible-absurd. Go on and
tell me what Mrs. Grafton wrote you,
sweetheart. Never mind the capsized
blonde just now"
But he himself could mind" no one
else when, half an hour later, there
came tripping down the aisle from the
ladies' toilet-room slender, graceful,
stylishly-draped figure with such a
radiantly-pretty girl-woman face-a
fair, sweet blonde, with lovely curling
hair, the brightest of big blue eyes, the
rosiest of tiny mouths, with glimpses
of snow-white teeth as she smilingly ap-
preached and, with infinite grace, held
out a prettily gloved hand.
ITO think that I should have been
here in time to tender my congratula-
tons! Won't you present me to Mrs.
Merriam?"
And Randolph Merriam! for once in
his life, was utterly at a loss what to
cay or do. He could hardly speak. He
could hardly breathe. "Floy," he final
ly said-and his tone was strange and
cold-"this is Mrs. McLane, of New
York, an old-acquaintance,'f then
turned away as Mrs. McLane effusively,
delightedly bent over that she might
shake hands with the bride. ...
, It was early evening-too early for
twilight effects, yet the shadows were
falling thick on Florence Merriam's
wedding-day before the setting of the
glowing sun.