The Prescott daily news., 1915-06-30

gan to wear away dull lethargy overlook him.
 Lure of fatality, retribution at the most critical juncture in his life he slept!
 It was with a mighty start, a sharp shock that Warne awoke. His face was blanched with terror as he glanced at the tower clock-it was aft CT midnight!
 The special!' gasped the mortified Warne, trembling in every limb Then came the dim echoes of a commotion in the direction of the bridge, ham, mering, voices, and among these lat ter accents of excitement and of dis tress.
 Hatless, confused, Warne ran down from the tower. A man rushed from the direction of the bridge, downward bound. He shouted to person scud- ding by him from the opposite direc- tion
 "Over hundred killed-it's fright full wreck!"
 
 fugitive, half mad, haunted with constant terror and remorse, scarce knew what he did. He had slept while train dashing by unsignaled, had gone down to wreck and ruin Oh! he could figure it all out collision at the bridge, and his the blame, his the sinful, wicked fault Then Canada. to hide far away from friends and the law, for was he not murderer? And Elsie an anguishing memory in his heart of hearts. Coward, craven, poltroon, Ronald Warne called himself score of times because he did not go back and face the music like a man. Then a rest less longing for old scenes and back to a city where he was little known. All the finer artistic instincts of his nature were blunted and inert. Now, after idleness, abject poverty, he had secured work. It was cheap, unworthy labor for man of his former attainments-en- larging photographs in the crayon
  wolf from the door
 It was dull, monotonous work, but there was even more tF'Gn he could do. The lonely room he coupled was a safe hiding place to which his work was sent regularly from the firm em. ploying him.
 One day there was a shock. In the dusk of early evening a yelled lady was ushered into the poor excuse for a studio by the landlady.
 MT Wayne,' spoke the latter, this is young lady who sent some work to your firm and you have it. She is to leave the city tomorrow, and wishes to hurry up the order, if possible"
 A great gasp broke from the art. ist's lips as his visitor cast aside her veil.
 Tt is a picture of a relative,' she began, and then-"Oh, Ronald" Yes fate had thus strangely thrown Elsie Barker ;cross his path again, for it was she-the same sweet-faced maiden of old, but richly attired In her gentle tones was manifest inter est, the warmth of genuine friendship, perhaps something more
 She stood rooted, spellbound. Then pitying look crossed her face He hung his head, self-condemned She advanced and took his hand
 Ronald" she said, and her tones stirred his inmost heart-"what does it all mean?"
 What did 1t mean?-crime, murder! He shrank from her, abject and crushed. In broken tones he qua vered his miserable story.
 "Oh, why did you not come to me?" she cried. Tt was not your fault. The wreck was on the road that crosses ours just beyond &he bridge and was caused by one of their own broken rails. Our trains went through all right and even the truth about my father was not learned Poor dear friend, what have you not suf fered,"
 Innocent! a great load was lifted from Ronald Warnes mind. Like child he sank to a chair, like child he wept.
 Father is no longer with the road" went on Elsie. Are you not glad we inherited quite a fortune, and and"
 She paused there. Then their eyes met. Her face was pleading, tell-tale. When she went away from the dim studio, she left kiss upon his lips, and in his heart-hope,