Tombstone epitaph., 1917-06-17

-The more need you have tor me. then"
 "It is noble of you. I shall love you forever. but"
 He turned resolutely away and walked doggedly out of the room. Hell en nlingworth made a step to follow him.
 Helen" interposed her father, catching her almost roughly by the arm in his anger and resentment. 'if you go out of this door after that man. I'll never speak to you again"
 Father. I love you. I'm sorry for you. would do anything for you but this. You have your friends. That man wonder has nothing. nothing but me. l must go to him."
 She turned and went out of the room without a backward look or an other word, no one detaining her. Now if happened that ny hurrying down the hill in the station wagon. Meade had just caught a local train. which made connections with the Reading express some twenty miles away. and Helen Illingworth in her car reached the sta ton platform just in time to see 1t de- part. She remembered that ten miles across the country another railroad ran and if she drove hard she could possibly catch a train which would land her in Jersey City a few minutes before the train her lover caught. She told the chauffeur, who scented e TO- nance and drove as he had never driven before.
 The girl caught the express and rode to the Hudson terminal In the city The newsboys on the street were al- ready crying the loss of the bridge. She saw the story displayed in lurid red headlines as she sprang into the taxi and bade the chauffeur hurry her to the Uplift building downtown. The bill she handed him in advance made him recklessly break the speed limit.
 
 Bertram Meade. ST., had not left the office during the whole long afternoon. He sat alone. quietly waiting for the end. As to the drowning life unrolls in rapid review. So pictures of the past took form and shape In his mind. He recalled many failures. No success Is uninterrupted and unbroken. It is through constant blundering that we arrive. He had learned to achieve by falling. as everybody else learns. But failures and mistakes, which were par donable in the beginning of his career. could not be condoned now; those should have taught him. He realized too late that his later achievement had begot in him a kind of conviction of ompiscience, belief in his own infalli- bility, bad for a man. His pride had gone before, hard upon approached the fall. He had been so sure of himself that even when the possibility that he might be mistaken had been pointed out and even argued, he had laughed 1t to scorn. His sons arguments he had held lightly on account of his youth and comparative inexperience-to his sorrow he realized 1t, too late.
 Again came that strange feeling of pride. the only thing which could in any way alleviate his misery or Tighten his despair. It was his own son who had pointed out the possible defect. Youth more often than not disregards the counsel of age. In this case age had made light of the warnings of youth. It was a strange reversal, he thought, grimly recognizing a touch of sardonic and terrible humor in the sit uation.
 "Whom the gods destroy they first make mad" Well. he had been mad enough. If he had only listened to the boy. And now there was nothing he could do but wait. Yes. as the long hours passed and the sun declined, and the evening approached. there sudden ly flashed upon him that there was still something he could do. He had ex- perienced some strange physical sen sations during that afternoon, uuease in his breast, some sharp pains about his heart. He forgot them for the mo- ment in the idea that had come to him.
 When the bridge fell he would avow the whole responsibili.v. .-a0 Sn the blame. Fv::.-:.aleIy for his plans, his son had reduced to writing his views on the compression members, which had almost taken the form of protest, and this letter had been handed to his father. His first mind had been to tear it up after he had read 1t and had overborne the objections contained therein. but on second thought he had carefully filed 1t away with the origi- nal drawings. It was, of course, in the younger Meade's own handwriting.
 He went to his private safe, opened the drawings and found the letter at- tached to the sheet of drawings. He put back the other drawings and closed the safe without locking it. Then he went back to the desk and considered the document. He had been blind. mad. He laid the paper down on his desk and put his hand to his heart-
 Of course he would submit those pa- pers to the public at once. Was there anything else he could dol Yes. He sat down at the desk and drew a sheet | of paper before him and began to | write. Slowly, tremblingly. he perse- | vered. carefully weighing his words be- fore he traced them on paper. He had |