6 ALL THE GOOD WE CAN. If the sunshine never crept Into hovels dark and sad. If its glories never shone Save where everything was glad. If It scattered not Its beams Over hearts by sorrow chilled. Would the sunshine do His will? Would its mission be fullilled? If the rosea never bloomed Save for gladsome eyes alone, If their beauty and their grace For the weary never shone, If they never brought a smile To the wayside passer-by, Would the roses do their task While the hours of summer flyT If the birdies sang their songs Far from every listening ear. If they poured t'hem not abroad All the earth to glad and cheer. Would the birdies' work be done Ere the autumn breezes call? Ere the gold and crimson leaves O'er the grave of summer fall? If the sunshine of our smiles We have scattered not afar. If our roses—kindly deeds— Bloom not where the lowly are. If our words of hope and joy Never fall to bless and cheer, Have we done our Maker's will? Have we wrought our mission here? —George Cooper, in Golden X>ays. I A CLEW BY WIRE | is Or, An Interrupted Current. S: = BY HOWARD M. YOST. ? Jg Copyright, 1896, by J. B. Lippincott Co. §£ CITAPTER IV.—CONTINUED. The president was writing when I entered, but he laid aside his pen when he saw me. "Take a seat, Conway," he said. I did as requested. My heart was heavy before, but it was heavier when I noticed the troubled look on his face. "Mr. Perry, have you read the pa pers?" I asked. The president nodded assent. "How is it that such a general im pression has gone abroad that I had something to do with the affair? Who has started such a rumor?" "I do not know, Conway, unless the police have given public expression to their opinion." "The police. And what is their opin ion? Was it not shown beyond any doubt that I was miles away from the vault at the time that the robbery must must have been committed ? I say noth ing about my own assertions. But how can anyone doubt the word of a man of Mr. Morley's standing?" "Well, Conway, no one doss doubt that you told the truth in that. But—" Mr. Perry seemed loath to proceed. "But what, sir?" I demanded, after a pause. "The detectives' theory is that you had accomplices, who, from directions given by you, were able to carry out a prearranged plan." I answered with a scornful laugh. "Accomplices! Who are they?" I asked. "Well, I suppose they are looking for them," Mr. Perry said, with a half smile. "I hope they'll enjoy the search," I said, sarcastically. "Oh, Mr. Perry, why is this thing brought upon me? Why am I so universally suspected, when nothing can be shown against me? If there is enough cause to attribute the robbery to me, why am I not arrested ?" "We had hoped to keep the affair a se cret, for a time at least. Therefore Borne few of the trustees thought it best not to make it public, as having jou arrested would have done. We were ell pledged to secrecy, but somehow the affair got abroad. I suppose you did not mention it?" "No, indeed. I have not spoken to a Eoul on the subject," I replied. "Aft-. Perry," I cried, impulsively, "you do not believe I am guilty, do you?" "I do not wish to believe so," he re plied, guardedly. "Oh, think, sir, what this terrible af fair means to me! It is a fearful bur den for a young fellow to bear who is wholly innocent." "It is, indeod. But, you see, it is this way. The bank is a public institution, and I, as its head, dare not let my per sonal feelings interfere with my duty to the public. Personally, it does not seem possible that you could have any connection with the loss of the people's money—" "Oh, thank you, Mr. Perry! I knew you could not think—" He cut me short. '"Officially, I must hold you in doubt, so much so at least that I cannot give you back your po sition." "And did you suppose I expected to remain ?" I asked, indignantly. "I could not. I want to hold no position where absolute and perfect confidence is not felt in me. You can consider this as my resignation, sir," I added. "I am glad you look upon it in that light. It is manly, sir," said Mr. Perry. 'And, Nelson, not even the restoration )f the missing funds would give me as great pleasure as the establishment of /our innocence." "Never fear, sir, my innocence will soon be proved. It cannot be otherwise, for I am innocent," I said, confidently. "I have a small estate which came to me from my grandfather," I continued. "Every cent shall be expended, if nec essary, for the purpose of proving my Innocence." "You can do as you see fit about that," the president said, after a long pause, during which he seemed to be ponder ing over my words. "But if you wish for my advice, I would say, do nothing whatever on your own hook. Nelson," he continued, coming close up to me and speaking low, "secret measures have al jready been begun to solve the mystery, and they will be thorough and far- S reaching. This is wholly independent 'of any investigations the police au thorities may undertake. You see, my 'boy, that I do trust and believe in you, after all. What I have told you Is in IBtrict confidence. Live as quietly and (patiently as possible under the cloud. Take a trip to Europe, and enjoy your self." "No, I'll stay and face the music. I am not afraid of any investigations which may be made into my life." "Well, good-by now. I must not allow you to take up any more of my time. 1 beg of you to follow my advice, and un dertake no search on your own hook. In spite of discouragement, heartache, or long delay, do nothing yourself." lie shook my hand heartily, and I left him. As I was going out the door leading into the lobby, 1 ran against a man just coming in. He WAS an old fellow, small and thin, and had piercing steel-blue eyes. He rebounded a trifle from the collision, then gazed at me sharply. "I beg your pardon," I said. "1 hope I did not hurt you?" "No. Not much, at any rate. I want to see the president. Are you the presi dent?" he asked. There seemed to me to be something insolent about his question, as though lie knew I was not the president and he had asked but to mock me. "You will find the president in his of fice," I replied, curtly. "As for me, I am a bank robber." There was the suspicion of a twinkle came in his eyes as he said: "Indeed! Well, you don't look it." The old fellow then entered the of fice, and I went outside to the street. A few days went by, and, although nothing was found to sustain the theory of the detectives, that fact did not lessen the general suspicion which rested upon me. Indeed, it was a ease of surprise to me that I was not arrested. It would have been an easy matter, for I had no thought of hiding. The most public streets during the daytime, and a con cert or the theater at night, were fre quented by me. I held my head erect, as I had a right to do; but it was with a heavy heart and a chastened spirit that I realized that people shunned me. Houses where I had been on most friend ly terms were closed against me. I was tempted many times to seek consolation and encouragement in the presence of Florence Morley, but it did not seem right nor kind to burden her bright life with my troubles, even should she consent to see me, of which I was doubtful under the changed cir cumstances. Perhaps it was this fear which kept me away, as much as any other idea. About a week after the robbery a let ter came to my boarding-place: "Mr. Nelson Conway—Dear Sir: Tf con venient, kindly favor me with an oppor tunity for conversation this evening at eight. I remain In town over night, and you will find me at my city residence. "SYLVESTER MORLEY." Wondering what he could wish to say to me, I repaired to his house at the time mentioned. Mr. Morley received me in the library, and arose from his chair as I entered. "Good evening, Mr. Conway," he gravely said, bowing his head. "Please be seated." After I had chosen a chair on the op posite side of the room, and he had re sumed his seat, he began, somewhat re luctantly, but in his stately, courteous way: "Our conversation may prove unsat isfactory to you. If so, I beg your par don in advance. Of course you are aware that the public in general con nects your name with that daring and mysterious affair at the bank." "I know very well, sir, that it is so," I replied, sadly. "Now, I do not mind saying that I do not necessarily condemn a man because he is suspected," Mr. Morley continued. "In a case like yours the general pub lic's opinion does not influence my opin ion. At the same time, the general public is not to be blamed so much, after all. The people form their opin ions from the newspapers, and I am sorry to note that the papers do not seem friendly toward you." "That is true, sir," I answered. "And I cannot imagine why they should take that stand, when nothing, absolutely nothing, can be found to criminate me." "I can furnish no idea why it is so; I simply state a fact. As I intimated, it is not my custom to condemn a man before he has been found guilty. But, whatever my private opinion may be, in this case you must understand that the suspicion which has fallen upon you will necessarily preclude a continua tion of the friendly relations which have existed between you and—and my household." "Oh, sir, you cannot believe in your heart that I had anything to do with the bank's loss!" I exclaimed, bitterly, for, kindly as was his manner, the words he spoke seemed to strike a knell to my fondest hopes. "I have already said all I care to say on that score," Mr. Morley replied, rather coldly. "And—and your daughter, sir," I weut on, with trembling voice; "she does not share the general suspicion!" A smile flitted across his face for a moment. Then he became grave again, and regarded me earnestly. lie did not reply for some time; he seemed to be considering his answer. "My daughter is rather indignant; she thinks that you are unjustly treated," he finally said. I could not restrain myself on hear ing this. I sprang from my seat and approached him. "Mr. Morley, you do not know what it means to me to hear this. You cannot imagine how your daughter's opinion fills me with hope. May I ask you, sir, to express to her my deepest gratitude for her faith in my innocence? As God hears me, her faith is not misplaced." There was no controlling my voice; it trembled in spite of my efforts to be calm. Dear, true-hearted girl! "I will convey to her your message," said Mr. Morley. "She has informed me of the sentiment you entertain for her. But, Mr. Conway, I believe you are a young man of sense and honor. You must therefore realize the position you would place her in by insisting on the continuation of a friendship which, out of kindness and gentleness of disposi tion, she would probably not refuse you. CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MARCH 24, 1898. It would be unjust to her, embarrassing to you, and wholly contrary to my wishes." "I fully appreciate the meaning of your words, Mr. Morley. Believe me, I regard your daughter too highly to intrude upon her notice, under existing circumstances. It is no sentiment I entertain for her; it is love, sir, deeper, truer, fonder than mere sentiment. This love has become the ruling motive of my life, and will always remain so. But I promise you 1 will hold no com munication with your daughter until it is shown before the world that I am innocent. I confess, to follow this course will be the greatest sacrifice of my life. I have no parents, no near re lations to whom I can go for love and sympathy. It means something, there fore, for me to promise you this." Mr. Morley arose from his chair. There was a kindly gleam in his eyes, and an expression on his face of—sad ness, was it? At any rate, there was undoubtedly a touch of sorrow in his voice when he spoke again. It seemed somewhat strange to me at the time. He had obtained the promise he wished, but it did not seem to give him the pleas ure I naturally expected it would. lie extended his hand. "Mr. Conway, you are a man of honor," he said. "I deem it a favor to shake hands with you. I sincerely hope your innocence may be established. But," he hesi tated here, "do not be over-sanguine. Robberies have occurred before which have ever remained mysteries. I must confess, although I am one of the trustees and am therefore an interested party, I am not so sure the perpetrators of this last robbery will ever be dis covered. There seems to be not the slightest clew to work on.l do not say this to cause j-ou pain, but simply to warn you against entertaining hopes which may never be realized." CHAPTER V. On the first evening of my occupancy of the old homestead I recalled Mr. Morley's words and thought with sor row how much superior his judgment had been to mine. A year had gone by, a year of heart ache, disappointment and unfulfilled longing, and the cloud had not been lifted from my life. And, oh, I was so homesick for just a glimpse of my dear love's face. A few days after my interview with Mr. Morley I had received a note from Florence: "Dear Mr. Conway: Fattier has Informed me of your resolve not to call on me or at tempt to keep up the friendship which made me so happy, until you are freed from all suspicion. I appreciate the manliness which prompts you to such a resolve, and I wish to assure you from the bottom of my heart that I respect and trust you. I know you are Innocent, and shall always believe so. Keep up a brave spirit. The mystery will be explained and you exonerated. Re member, I believe in you wholly, and shall always remain, Your true friend, "FLORENCE MORLEY." I took the worn note from the locket which I wore around my neck and Pf"' *' Speak out, I say. or I'll tire I" pressed it to my lips, as I had done many times since its receipt, and I won dered if her heart was still true to the sentiment expressed in it. The harvest moon was resplendent and the white beams came into the win dow where I sat in my night, robe, flood ing my white drapery with light. There were no rounds of human life; the world seemed left wholly to the crick ets and katydids. With a sigh from the depths of my lonely heart I re placed the note in its receptacle and arose. Turning from the window, I saw right opposite me, on the other side of the room, a tall white figure. What was it? There it stood, while I gazed spellbound, motionless, mysterious. In a lightning flash of thought Sarah's forebodings came to me. Then I grasped my pistol, which was lying on the table beside me. "Now, then, if this is a practical joke, intended simply to frighten me, let it stop," I said. It was with some dif ficulty, I eon.#ss, that my voice was kept steady. "Whoever you are, speak and ex plain, or I'll see if you have substance enough to stop a bullet!" I paused for a reply, but none came. "Speak out, I say, or, as sure as there is a God in Heaven, I'll fire!" I called again, and again received no reply. The white thing remained there. In spite of my threats. After another pause, during which the cold chills chased up and down my spine, I raised my arm. took deliberate ata and fired. A rattle of breaking glass followed the report of the pistol, and a dark Spot appeared in the center of the white figure. The flash of the pistol had been reflected back, and in an in stant I realized the truth. With a scornful laugh and a con demnatory exclamation at my foolish ness, I placed the pistol on the table and got into bed. Then a slight scuffling noise, seem ing to come from beneath, reached my ear, and I said, aloud, and with a laugh: "I've stirred up the rats, nt any rate. Hello, what's that?" I exclaimed, as a deep, nn> gerous. A man takes off his gloves upon enter ing church, while a woman puts hers on.— Washington Democrat. Poor Unby Will not strangle and die with croup il Hoxsie's C. C. C. is used. For whooping cough, it is invaluable. 50 cents. When people hear a piece of gossip, theyt never stop to ask before repeating it: "Is it probable? ' —Atchison Globe. To Cnre a Cold In One Dny Take Laxative Rromo Quinine Tablets. AH druggists refund money if it fails to cure. 25c. Hick felt so queer last night after 1 went to bed._ My head was spinning around awfully." Wicks—"You probably slept 'lilts a top.' " —Boston Transcript. Fits stopped free and permanently cured. No fits after first day's use of Dr. Kline's Great Nerve Hcstorer. Free $2 trial bottle A treatise. Dr. Kline, 933 Arch st., Phila., Pa. A fellow doesn't really enjoy a favor ii he is immediately asked to return it.— Washington Democrat. We have not been without l'iso's Cure foi Consumption for 20 years. —Lizzie Ferrel, Camp St., Ilarrisburg, Pa., May 4, '9l. A good many of us think frankness means to have others tell us how nice we are.-- Washington Democrat.