The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1915-04-26


warne trembling in every limb. Inen
came the dim echoes Of . commotion
n the direction of the bridge. ham
mering voices, and among these ,at
ter accents of excitement ana Oh u''
tress.
Hatless. confused, Warne ran down
from the tower. A man rushed Iroin
the direction of the bridge, townwaro
hound He shouted to person scuo-
ding by him from the opposite o'fe'
ton: ...
"over a hundred killed-it's a fright
full wreck" ..
After that for nearly week Warne'
a fugitive, half mad, haunted VIII
constant terror and remorse. scarce
knew what he did. He had slept wniie
q train dashing by unsignaled' nao
gone down to wreck and ruin! On:
he could figure it all out! COLLISION
at the bridge. and his the blame ME
the sinful, wicked fault!
Then Canada. to hide far away IRON
friends and the law. for was ne not :
murderer? And Elsie! an anguisn'ns
memory in his heart Of hearts. =.
Coward, craven. poltroon, Ronald
Warne called himself score OF times
because he did not 60 back and race
the music like q man. Then resi-
less longing for old scenes and back
to a city where he was little known.
All the finer artistic instincts OF MS
nature we're blunted and inert. now
after idleness, abject poverty, he mao
secured work.
It was cheap, unworthy labor for .
man of his former attainments-en'
larging photographs in the crayon
line-but it occupied him, 1t kept the
wolf from the door.
It was dull, monotonous work, out
there was even more than he could DO.
The lonely room he occupied was .
safe hiding place to which his work
was sent regularly from the firm en-
ploying him.
One day there was shock. In the
lusk of early evening yelled lady
vas ushered into the poor excuse FOR
a studio by the landlady.
Mr.. Wayne" spoke the latter
this is a young lady who sent some
work to your firm and you have 1t.
She is to leave the city tomorrow,
and wishes to hurry up the order, il
possible"
A great gasp broke from the art
lists lips as his visitor cast aside her
veil.
1T is a picture of relative" she
began. and then-"Oh, Ronald"
Yes, fate had thus strangely thrown
Elsie Barker across 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
a plying look crossed her face. He
hung his head, self-condemned. She
advanced and took his hand.
Ronald" she said. and her tones
stirred his Utmost 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. 1T was not your
fault. The wreck was on the road that
crosses ours just beyond the 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 SUI.
fered!"
Innocent! a great load was lifted
from Ronald Warne's mind. Like a
child he sank to a chair, like a 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, telltale.
When she went away from the dim
studio, she left kiss upon his lips,
and in his heart-hope!