The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1916-04-06

Clay came home at almost reck-
'Hse eneed denosited bride and groom
In their several places, and tried to
>.,tp "Iterward. But the effort was
vain. He had sense of something
impending, feeling that he had in
CURED risk. and needlessly.
To rid himself of it he got up about
three o'clock. dressed. and went out
side. resolved to walk until daylight.
He had got about ten blocks away,
when a quick light-flash made him
turn about. There was not a cloud
the stars burned white in a velvet.
purple sky. But against it. to south
ward, he saw a mounting spiral of
smoke. tinged ominously with red I'M
derneath. He turned and ran toward
1t, shouting aloud as he ran. But
strange to the place, he came round
aboutly to the fire-barely In time to
see haunting sight.
A big old mansion, half ruinous,
was spouting flame from half its low
or windows-the inside must be
furnace, the stairs impossible. The
grattngs set In the windows were red
hot, and beginning to bend-the
heaty doors still resisted. but were
blistering outside. And at an upper
front window. also barred. though but
lightly. Mason stood. trying vainly to
wrench away the bars. Clay shouted
at him. He nodded. but kept on strug-
Cling. With superhuman effort he
pulled away half the grating. turned
and came back again with something
helpless. shapeless. limp within his
arms.
Help was coming-men and ladders.
Before the ladders could be set, the
men got up them; flame-tinged smoke
wrapped the figures at the window.
AS Clay reached his arms for Masons
helpless burden there came a blast
as of the pit. almost full in his face.
He reeled away from It, by a miracle
keeping hold, and dragging out the
old wreck of man. Eager hands re-
ieved him-he called to Mason-but
there was no answer! Fire had done
its work, taken its toll
Grandad never knew. He died be-
fore sunrise. Men said. even in the
presence of death, he had sacrificed
his grandson to his avarice 1t was
his fear for his boarded gold which
made him insist upon the grating
Except for it. both might have been
saved
II hate to speak ill of the old.
specially after they're dead" said
Landlord Ware. But | reckon old
George Mason would be right down
glad If he knew he had taken his
money and his grandson with him."
Clay remained for the reading of
the will-that same sense OF respon-
sibility chung to him. When he heard
the dry-as-dust document he was glad
he had not shaken off his hauntings
For with much verbiage, but plain be-
yond peradventure. the fortune was
left to young George Mason. with the
hope, not the condition. that he marry
Flora Mcleod, and the provision that
should he die. childless and intestate,
his heir should be his lawful wife,
Failing a wife. the next of kin came
in.
There were a dozen Of them, at
least. outwardly grief-stricken, yet
with eager expectant eyes. Clay smiled
grimly as he rose to face them, and
say:
Then send for Mrs. Elsie Ensly
Mason. | witnessed the marriage,
and have the certificate, intrusted me
for safe keeping
To this day Ashmore has never had
such another sensation. Not even
when three years afterward John Wal
ter Clay. Esquire was very quietly
married to the young Mrs. Mason
People thought 1t odd they did not
settle down in Ashmore-only little
of the money would make the old |
Mason place the finest in town The |
house had burned to the ground to be |
sure, but the situation was unrivaled !
Mr.. and Mrs Clay did not deny that
yet neither wanted to live there
even though they did not believe in
ghosts