The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1882-03-22

aDo try to help them, she plead
, ed, 90 earnestly that the men al re
solved to try, though it was Of littlt
use. Taking q rope, Little tied al
. the volunteers firmly together; ever
the "howling swell" Livingtons. q
George called him, offered to help
, When all was ready. they crep'
along the western side Of the house
with little difficulty. But wher
they reached the corner they went
down like planks. They tried
again and again, and thea came
back into the house tired and dis.
heartened.
The short afternoon had passed
the early darkness made the terror
more awful. Maud still strained hel
eyes through the deepening gloom
The storm at that moment was al
its height. Cluthing the window.
frame tightly with her fingers, she
pressed her dilated eyes against the
pane, and saw with speechless hor-
ror the roof of the large barn swept
off as if it had been paper. 1t was
all the more terrible because sound
of the falling timbers could be
heard above the ceaseless roaring OF
the wind.
1t was an awful night. No one
Thought of sleepinp. They clustered
together about the fire in silent ter
ror. From time to time Mr.. Little
spoke reassuringly. There was no
danger for themselves, he said; the
house was firmly built; large beams
passed diagonally from floor to
ceiling through the partition walls; I;
it was not possible they could give
away. But the awed hearts were
not easily assured. Maud alone
had no thoughts for herself or the
safety of the house. She had seen
the roofess barn, and she strove to
picture the fate of Thornton, and
the two men with him, without fire,
without food, with no roof to shelter
them, and perhaps crushed by fall
ing timbers, for it had been too dark
to see the extent of the disaster.
She told no one of the sight which
she had witnessed. Only she and
Little knew what had happened.
All that was best in her came to the
surface that long, agonizing night.
Never again could she silence her
better, nobler self. Very base and
contemplate seemed all her wiles,
her caprices, her coquetr:es. 1t
had been her wild folly that had
placed Thornton in this danger. If
She had not delayed the men they
could have returned to the house
before it was too late. If he were
alive when morning dawaed he
should know how bitterly she had
repented.
She remembered how she had
trifed with him when once, the
summer before, he had told her
that he loved her more than he had
ever loved any being before or ever
could again. She had not meant to
drive him away from her; she only
meant to tease him for little. But
be had taken it all in earnest, and
now, of course, he had ceased to
think of her except to despise her.
If he had continued to love her,
would he have been so long silent ?
She little knew that the man who
was all sincerity could not under
stand the insincere.
He would never care for her now,
of course, and she loved him with all
the force of her strong, ungoverned
heart. After that night of agony
she could never be the same.
The pale daylight dawned upon
her white face. The wind died
slowly down, as the sun came up
the troubled sky. The ruin of the
night was revealed to the weary
watchers.
Three men came slowly up the
hill, tired, hungry, half-irozen, but
safe. They had made a compara-
lively warm nest for themselves in
the hay, where they had passed a
sleepless night. The part of the
barn which had sheltered them and
the cattle and horses had been un-
injured, and not man nor a beast
had been hurt by the falling beams.
Mrs. Wellington could not be in
duced TO remain an unnecessary
moment in the terrible place, and
late in the afternoon the subdued
party were in the cars returning to
Boston. Thornton confessed that it
was the most uncomfortable night
he had ever passed, but he would
cheerfully have undergone far
greater hardships for the reward that
it brought him. Before they reach
ed the city he had learned of the
agony which the nights suspense
had been to Maud, and she had ac-
knowledged her love ior him in an
swer to the passionate reiteratlon OF
his devotion to her. And this was
the work of an East Bloart