The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1915-04-23

wsne, trembling in every limb Thsn
zane the dim echoes of q commotion
~ tne direction Of the bridge, ham.
mering, voices. and among these lat.
yer accents of excitement and of din.
tress. -
Hatless, confused, warne ran down
rom the tower. A man rushed from
,ne direction of the bridge, towpward
oound. He shouted to a person scud.
Jung by him from the opposite direc-
ton:
over hundred killed-it's !. fright
full wreck"
AFTER that for nearly a week Warne.
q fugitive, half mad, haunted with
constant terror and remorse, scarce
knew what he did. He had slept while
q 'rain dashing by unsignaled, had
sone down to wreck and ruin! Oh!
ne could figure it all out! a collision
At the bridge. and his the blame, his
the sinful, wicked fault!
inen Canada, to hide far away from
TRENDS and the law, for was he not a
murderer? And Elsie! an anguishine
memory in his heart of hearts.
coward, craven. poltroon. Ronald
"arne called himself score of times
because he did not go back and face
the music like man. Then a rest
less longing for old scenes and back
10 a city where he was little known.
All the finer artistic instincts of his
nature were blunted and inert. Now,
after idleness, abiect poverty, he had
secured work.
1t was cheap, unworthy labor for a
man OF his former attainments-en-
larging photographs in the crayon
llne-but it occupied him, it kept the
wolf from the door.
1t was dull, monotonous work, but
there was even more than he could do.
The lonely room he occupied was q
safe hiding place to which his work
was sent regularly from the firm en-
ploying him.
One day there was a shock. In the
dusk of early evening a yelled lady
was ushered into the poor excuse for
studio by the landlady.
Mr. Wayne" spoke the latter,
this is a 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
lists lips as his visitor cast aside her
veil.
1T is 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 great load was lifted
from Ronald Warne's mind. Like q
child he sank to a chair, like q child
he wept
Father is no longer with the road
went on Elsie. Are you not glad
we inherited quite 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 q kiss upon his Lips.