The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1872-03-21

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she should come. 1t was late in the
evening when she walked home, and
Mrs. Moss, not expecting her, had re-
tired an hour before. She let herself
in with duplicate key which she car
RED, and went noiselessly up stairs.
where she lay for long time, sleep
less, but, about midnight, sank into
deep, dreamless slumber.
Outside,the cold wind blewsfitfully
and dewy pearls strung themselvs upon
the grass-blades. Night, with her mys-
ferrous processes of rest and growth
folded her dark wings over all.
But within the old house there was
hreathAa subtle stir, creeping, but
not of mice, in the wainscoating-a
ticking, between the measured beats
of the ancient clock upon the wall.
A late foot-passenger upon the high
way started to see windows glaring
redly on him through the darkness,
like demons eyes. Brcathlessly he
fastened forward, and great shout
tore the still air.
"Fire Fire -
Mrs. Moss leaped from her bed in
| terror at the thunderous heating on
| her door,te see one-half the wall oil
her room a lurid, smouldering mass,
which even as she rushed past it TO-
wards the outer door, burst into live
flame behind her.
The street was already full of half
dressed people.
Miss Waring!" cried half score
of voices. e Where is she ?"
Not here-she did not come home
last night" came from the widows s
pale lips.
"Thank God for that u
And through it all-the tumult, the
shouting, the hurrying steps, the rush
of the destroying fire-she lay in that
strange, unbroxen trance of sleep. No
one could reach her now; the whole
lower story of the old house was one
she'll of fire, which burst through
melting pares and smoking clap
boarding. Men, women and children
ran aimlessly to and fro, or stood, as
if fascinated, with their useless pals
and buckets in their hands.
Suddenly a cry shrill, sharp, freez-
ing the very hearts blood of those
who heard
She stood i'll the little gable window
the black masses of her hair sweeping
down her white robe, her hands out
stretched in an agony of fear and en-
treaty. A deep groan of despair went
up from the crowd below. seeming to
her quickened senses to fall back from
the leaden sky with dull, hopeless re-
bound. She understood all now. One
thrill of dreadful anguish from the
strained chords that bind every hu-
mand heart to life, and Margaret War
ing was calm.
In that supreme moment, she SEEM
ed to have outlived the patriarchs.
Life, with all its hopes and fears so
real last night, seemed now long past
and dreamy. She felt the breath of
eternity on her sense. 7 eft, with mys-
terious double-sense, she was conscious
of all the small details of the scene.
She saw the strange lights and shad-
ows playing over the horror-stricken
faces below, the vivid outlines of the
nearer trees against the inky sky be-
yond, even the f1uttering of the fright
ened birds amid their branches. -
Some of the old Huguenot blood
burned in the veins of this girl; her
slender limbs were moulded of the
pure stuff out of which martyrs were
made. An old hymn of her childhood
sprang TO her lips; wild and sweet
quaint melody rang out upon the air !:
1.-THE Lord is coming is coming
In chariot of fire;
Fly up my soul. to meet Him,
On the wings OF thy desire.''
There is a sudden movement in the
crowd, focal gathering of all eyes! !!
What do you see2
A boy.sh figure appearing, no one
knows how or whence, climbing toll
somely up the steep roof slope, cling
ing with bare feet and hands to the
smoking shingles. sliding, slipping,
yet advancing still! He has reached
the top, he runs along the dizzy ridge,
he throws himself at full length along
the angle above the gable window. he
is fastening something to the cornice
above.
Something falling between her and
the sky strikes Margaret's hand. 1t is
the end of rope rudely knetted, and
above she sees the face of Harold
Thorn. All the sweetness of life
swoons back upon her with dizzying
wish.
"Comei"
She steps upon the window sill, and
grasps the rope. She does not once
look down-the boy holds her with
his magnetic eyes. She feels the
strength of a giant tingle along her
slender wrists. Her old childish play
with her brother. at sea-faring, with
mimic rigging fastened to the great
beams of the barn, will serve her now,
climbing for her life.
Up! up! the rope strains, but holds.
Up! upl she feels his hands. Half
clambering, half drawn, she lies pant
ing on the roof The crown cheers,
but only fatntly yet, for the flames are
bursting through the root now, and
the danger is only begun.
Holding fast TO each other, they
work their way down. Great clouds
of smoke burst up, and snatch their
breath. They stand upon the shivering
caves, they leap together upon the
lower roof of the wing-bruised. chok-
ing, but unfaltering. Courage! yon-
der are hundred waiting arms!
"Noww cries Harold, "Jumpw
Margaret springs through the suffo-
eating smoke-she feels herself caught
up and borne-she struggles for
sight of Hal. There is flash, rum
bling like an avalanche! great col
umns rise. of mingled smoke and
flame.
"Hal! Hail." she shrieks. but there
is no answer.
The people fell back as Deacon
Thorn's strong arm took up his boy,
struck to death in his brave breast by
a tile from a falling chimney. He
breathed, but his eyes were closed.
The old doctor came near, and shook
his head. A quiver of pain distorted
the boys face.
Lay me down father!" he gasped.
" Where is she ?"
She dropped d upon her knees beside
him-she, who would have draw the
blood from her own heart TO feed his
life one hour-and took his head upon
her breast.
go my son! my son!" groaned the
stern, strong man. "Look at meat
me, o my child ~
The boy turned his eye toward him
smiling feebly, but, in moment, his
uncertain gaze wandered back to
Maroaret'S face