Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1917-02-17

Purchase My SiIence!"
whose one lapse had punished none
but herself.
The accident happened at a some
what late hour, and was not bruited
about the city until the following morn
| ing. Burton, who had retired to rest
very late, after many hours of anxiety
| due to Merriams unfortunate death.
was somewhat late for breakfast. He
had just opened an important-lookiug
letter, carrying the superscription of a
local bank, when Arthur Hardwicke
rushed in, followed by a scandalized
butler who had failed completely to
stop the entry of an impetuous visitor.
The two men knew each other, of
course, but Burton was hardly pre-
pared for Hardwicke's action, seeing
that the newcomer rushed around the
table and snatched from his hands the
very letter he was on the point of
opening.
For heavens sake, forgive me, Mr..
Burtont'' cried the agitated Hard
wicke. 81 am behaving like q crazy
man this morning, but the one sure
thing in my mind is that you ought
not to read what is in that letter until
you have heard my story first
John would be more than human if
he were not puzzled and suspicious,
because some hint of an earlier attach
ment between Beatrice and Hardwicke
had already reached his ears. Never
theless, he agreed to listen, and, with
mighty effort Hardwicke contrfyed
to pour out broken confession of
his first wrongdoing. and the excessive
price, in suffering and treasure, which
had already been exacted of him. He
hung his head miserably at the close
snow you know the truth MIR. Bur
ton,'' he said. MY life Is of no conse-
quence, but in your control rests the
| whole career and happiness of a wom
an, who despite her solitary transgres-
sion, is essentially high-souled and no.
ble-minded above the common 1 am
not seeking TO make you her judge. L
am here to ask YOU, as man to man,
not to strike at nae through herl"
John sat for few minutes gazing
into space. He saw nothing but the
blackness of negation. Once more had
he felt the Grip of Evil on the pulsing
throat of Humanity. Yet his fine tenn
permanent triumphed, and he forced
himself to view the dreadful tangle
calmly.
s'What is in that paper, then?" he
said, indicating the letter which Hard
wfefze held in nerveless fingers.
ooh, that is Merriam's story" was
the respondent answer. THAT was
the threat he held over me. In case of
his death or accident, and lie I had not
bought back the manuscript, It was, to-
be sent out not only TO you but te, the
trict-''
Burton leaped to his feet.
Good God, man - he almost
screamed, while you and I are vast
ing time here, this horrible sereed may
already have been published You go
at once to Miss Tournear and tell her
that the worst rs now over. ELL rush
to every newspaper Office in the city
and stop publication of Merriam's tale,
no matter what the cost Bid that poor
girl be of good cheer. She has suf-
fered much, and is, therefore, due
much happinessr'
The two men separated hastily. Bur
ton would not trust to the telephone,
but began q round of the newspaper Of
fees. He was wen received by the
first editor interviewed. Alas. the plot
their trust too web. but the issue re-
manned In the hands of a ruthless woin-
an
There was in that city, as in every
other, an evening Journal specially
noted fer sensational news Marion
Miller arrived at its publishing office
an hour before Burton reached the
editors ear.
So the drab story of human folly
was biazoned far and wide, and while
John was yet pleading for its suppress
sion. Beatrice Tourneur and Arthur
Hardwicke were dead, the one by poll
son, the other by a bullet.
And that was the beginning and the
end of John Burton's second love story.
The butterflies lay crushed In the mud.
(END OF SEVENTH EPISoDE.l