Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1888-04-26

will you give me the promise that
ask?'
Her answer came slowly, as if
| dragged from 1er:
If Lord Helmsworth wishes ne
10 become his wife, will not refuse
! him.
The morning that. followed the day
in which the above conversation had
taken place mournful symbol of Grape
hung by the Marches door. No one al
had the faintest idea that Mr.. Marches
| illness was so near its end, and it was
a sIrprise to all the ne ghbors hen it
was learned that the owner of Marche-
mont Hall was dead.
! Spring had come and gone, and Mr.,
Marches hciress stood in the luXuri-
ou5Iv-ftted drawing-room Of her home,
| listening to the ardent words of OF
/ who was laying his heart and title at
| her feet.
Before I answer you Lord Helms
worth" Florence replied, 81 must tell
| you what no one beside myself yet
| knOws-that though | bear his name
am not Mr.. Marches daughter"
Then in a few brief words she re-
peated to her surprised listener what
! her adopted father had told her.
Arthur HelmsWorth was of an old
and proud family, and though he liked
| Florence Marche as we'll as his cold
worldly nature was capable of doing,
| his only thought now was how to eX-
! tricate himself from the delicate posi-
ton in which he was placed.
1t would never do for the future
Lady HeImsworth to be one whose
parentage was involved in obscurity.
Florence had eagerly watched his
| face as she had spoken, and now q
| look of relief, mingled with scorn,
passed over her own.
She understood perfectly what vas
! passing within his mind.
a short time later Lord Helmsworth
went out from the gates of Marche-
mont, and from the life of Florence
Marchc, never to intrude again.
! Three years glided away. Since
they had parted Florence had never
received any word from Victor Grant;
and now, though her heart clamored
for sight of his noble ingenious face,
her pride kept her from writing or
sending any message to him. He
must have read of her fathers death in
the papers, and if he did not come to
her, knowing she was free, she felt
that it was because ne had ceased to
care for her.
1t was 4 lonely life which the girl
led, alone in her grand home, save for
the companionship # her old nurse
who had cared for her since her child
hood. Not that she lacked attention.
She had always been favorite in
society, and many one would have
been only too GLAD to win the hand Of
| the beautiful mistress of MarchemOnt
Hall; but to all suitOrs alike Florence
was equally Indifferent.
One dark starless night the village
was aroused by the clang of lire-bells,
and from lip to lip the cry ran, ''Mar-
chemont Hall is on tire!"
That night Florence had been awak-
ened out of sound sleep by old
Martha, who, in an agony of terror
| told her that the house was on fire.
Quieting the old woman's terror as
best she could, Florence threw on her
clothes with trembling fingers, and
then opening the door, essayed to en-
ter the hall. But, to her horror, she
found that escape that way was out of
the question, as the fire, which must
have been burning unnoticed for some
time. had gained such Roadway that
the corridors were one blaze of flame.
Flying to the window, Florence threw
back the blinds. At sight of her the
crowd without gave vent to a hoarse
| shout, and ladder after ladder was
raised, but only to be lowered again.
The flames we're licking with their
| lurid tongues the window where the
girl stood, making barrier which it
seemed as though no mortal being
could pass in safety.
Suddenly tall form sprang from
the midst of those who had been hard
est ct work.
Raise the ladder again. he cried.
eff mans arm can do it, will save
herr'
The risk was frightful. All held
their breath as they watched the heroic
climber holding on his way, battling
| against the flames, which Kissed and
| cracked as if greedy for their prey,
until at length the window YVES reach
ed, and he was lost to their sight.
Come! For Heavens sake come
quickly" the young man cried, Selling
| Florence's hand. But the girl drew
| back.
Save her first!'' she said, pointing
| to where, in a swOon, her old nurse
lay upon the floor.
1t was no time for words, and one
look into her face convinced the young
| man she meant what she aid, and
that to demonstrate would only lose
| precious time.
A little later shout below told the
brave girl. who had perhaps sacrificed
her own life, that her faithful old ser
want was saved.
Could the ascent be made again?
Those few moments had rendered the
chances even less, for the wood of the
ladder itself was beginning to ignite
in several places, in spite of the inces-
SAINT streams of water which were
playing upon it.
1T is too late now; you go to your
death, manw some one called out.
But unheeding, once more the in
trepid climber begins the ascent.
God is merciful! He has succeeded
in reaching the window, and is half
way down, with his light burden in his
arms.
Suddenly, with an ominous snap.
the ladder parts in the middle. But
strong outstretched arms break the
fall. and the young mistress of Mar
chemont Hall is safe and unframed.
But not so her deliverer. With his
face and hands burnt and bleeding, he
lies utterly exhausted by his great ex-
ertions, on the rude couch which has
4l,a