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PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY
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Sims, the agitator, broke off in the delivery of the threat he had burst into the room to make. Ned Lane had
entered the door behind him.
letters, believing that it was best to let his son remain in ignorance and bear, to a certain extent, some punishment for his indiscretion.
Returning home from work one night several weeks after his marriage, Ned found Milly softly weeping. In her hand was clutched the letter that her betrayer had sent her the same night that Ned Lane had first proposed. A look of pain and suffering contorted his face as he realized more than ever that, indeed, this woman whom he loved was but his wife in name only, and that her heart was in the keeping of another.
Many times during their brief married life that fact had been impressed upon him, but with marvelous strength and nobility of character he had refrained from forcing his love upon her.
"Milly," said he, "just before quitting time word was received at the mill that Mr. Dawson's automobile turned turtle on the Toll Road this afternoon, and that he was killed. His son has been sent for.''
For a moment the light of gladness and happiness shone in her eyes, the
father of her yet unborn baby would return in time to marry her. The lighter emotions were but fleeting, and the light died out of her eyes as quickly as it bad come — she was married to this man whom she did not love.
As fast as steam could whirl him from the lumber camp, Frank Dawson was being borne toward the house of death. He gazed out of the window, but his eyes did not see the scenery that flashed by — he was thinking. His thoughts, however, were not of the dead man — the man who had made a cad of him when confronted by the first great trial of his life. He was thinking of the poor, wronged girl he had so shamelessly deserted. Would he be in time to marry her and prevent the world from knowing of the sacrifice she had made for him?
All that was mortal of Edwin Dawson had been consigned to the grave. With weary steps the new master of the Dawson millions turned his steps in the direction of the cottage of old Andy Hale.
Softly yet eagerly he rapped on th door for admittance.
"Oh, Frank, my darling!" cried Mill]
"Milly !" He sobbed the name tha was sweet to him, as he crushed her t his breast.
They were still in each other's arm when Ned inadvertently glanced in a the uncurtained window. A spasm o pain crossed his face, and, as he turne* away, a great, dry sob burst from hi lips. This, then, was the end of hi dream of love. He knew in his hear of hearts that sooner or later Dawsoi would return, but he never thought tha his wife would forget her duty to him He cast off the anguish that was break ing his heart. One thought was upper most in his mind : How would hi make Milly happy? As he ponderec over the question, the way out flashec through his mind. Eagerly, as a drown ing man grasps at a straw, he sprang h this idea, and pondered over it.
The next morning, while preparing breakfast. Milly discovered a nott pinned to the tablecloth. With nervou: