The Cecil Whig., 1877-03-17

women, threaded in and out OF the may
dance to the time of the dreamy, fascinat-
ing music. They little dreamed of the ter
rible tragedy on the eve of enactment in
their very midst.
They had Just formed for waltz, and
the music was already thrilling the dancers
with its delicious intoxication, when tre-
NOR commenced near a doorway, new
arrival appeared, and the horrible news was
quickly circulated through the brilliant
rooms that a popular theater was on fire.
The ballroom became a scene of confusion.
The dance was abandoned.
"There were hurryings TO and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of dis
treSs,
And cheeks all pale that, but an hour ago,
Blushed at the praise of their own lowell
ness"
for many of them had friends that night at
the doomed theater. Most of the crowd
rushed for the scene of the disaster, and
amongst all was confusion and dismay.
Why Ada Hazelton, my dearest friend,
was going there to night said one of Ber-
tha's acquaintances to her, in frightened
tone.
"You mean Claude's sister," said Ber-
tina, feeling her lips turn white. 81 have
only slight acquaintance with her. Are
you sure she went?'
"Yes; Roy Temple was to accompany
her. l shall feel dreadfully anxious until
hear that she is SAFE
| Meanwhile, when the news of the disas-
! ter had flashed over the city, Claude rushed
out in wild desperation. He thought of
nothing now but the radiant face of the Sis
/ ter who had bade him good evening, brim-
full of spirits, few hours ago. He had not
had courage to tell her just yet of their
loss. He thought he would wait until morn
ing. But now the pecunary trouble sank
into nothingness beside this horrible catas-
trophe. Hurrying to the spot he met Roy
| Temple, alone His face was white as
death. How could he face this almost fran
tic brother?
! "Where is shes Where's Ada" gasped
/ Claude, hoarsely; and he reeled against a
building, overcome with the maddening
| fear.
"Oh, Hazelton, how can tell you? 1t
was horrible. 1t was impossible to save
! her; the crowd was insane with fear.
| did my best to save her, but we got sepa-
rated, and the flooring where she stood
went down with dozens of others-and
just escaped with my life."
| "Oh, this is dreadful-dreadful! How
can l endure ito Let us go back to the
place; there may be some hope yet. Come
And tottering rather than walking, the two
retraced their steps.
! But amidst the noise and confusion of the
| frantic crowd they could make no discov-
cry. There was nothing to be done but
wait patiently for the morning, which was
| to dawn on the city in the blackness of
despair.
! Oh the terrors of that night. Its sick
ening reality completely eclipsed all the
petty mimicry of woe ever depicted on the
stage. The few sentimental drops that had
been shed over the imaginary misery of the
heroine of the play were drowned in floods
! of heart rending tears, in shrieks and groans
| of despair. Mothers mourning for their
sons and daughters, husbands for wives,
! lovers for each other Oh, the "hope de-
! ferred - that sickened the heart as the hours
wore on, and all hope that they had become
eutangled in the crowd and would soon ar
rive was crushed.
Claude Hazelton paced the library of his
hasty steps. The gas burned low. The
cheerful coal fire in the CRATE seemed, in
it's bright contrast to his feelings, like a
mockery. The bitterness of death was over
his spirit. He could not be comforted
AlI-all had come at once. His only sister
lay in the ruins of the building, amongst
the undistinguished mass of the burned and
suffocated. His portion, to the last dollar,
had been swept away. Put it from him as
he might, the thought of Bertha's turning
a cold shoulder to him now thrust itsel1
upon his vision. What miserable thing
life appeared. How different from what il
had seemed twenty four hours before.
81 do not wonder that people commit
suicide" he said, as the thought of hi:
father, still missing, GENE over him. at
would be blessed boon to me now if
could find an outlet from this misery
He threw himself on a sofa in an atti
tude of despair.
In the parlors of Mrs. De Verney, quite
a number waited until their friends who
had gone to the fire should return. Bertha
was thinking of going home, when two OIL
three, who had ne friends over whom t.
worry, came in with latest tidings for the
eager questioners. One of them, the hus
band of the lady who had spoken of Ad;
Hazelton, went to her side.
81 saw Roy Temple just now."
"Has any thing happened to Ada?'
asked the lady, breathlessly.
"Calm yourself, dear, and prepare fo
the worst. He saw her go down with 9th
ers through flooring that gave way, anc
was powerless to save her."
The lady uttered scream, and covered
her face with her handkerchief.
Bertha heard the dreadful news, ant
amid other hurried departures she ordered
her carriage. lie needed her. This wa
her only thought. 1t was no time to stanc
on etiquette-to think of unseemly hour
when he was mourning for his dead.
The carriage set her down at his door
She assembled the steps, and to her surpris
found the door ajar. 1t had been left SO il
the confusion of servants when the terrib
news had been told them. She encoun
tered no one in the hall. Claude's mothe
was on visit to an old friend in distan
, city.
.'If he is here l shall find him alone,
, she thought.
She knew the house slightly-had beel
ouce in the library. Guided by some in
stinct she went to the door and opened
ho in