Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1889-03-10

from the coils that had encircled her regal
head Gilbert stood watching her for q
moment or two before retiring 10 his OWL
apartment, which opened out of hers. A
sudden, foolish impulse took possession o.
the man, self-restrained as he had grown
of late, and he stepped up TO her.
Celia, Celia, dear wife have you mo-
one word TO give me?" be said, half-broken
ly-but a cold good night" was the only
answer to his appeal, and, stuag to tn,
quick, Gilbert Burrell turned away il
silence.
It was midnight yet the woman he lef
paced her room, and her little hand
eleoched themselves prssiOnately. It seem
ed to her she held her whole life in her owl
power, and might choose to mould it as eh,
would. Duty had little meaning to her
yet not for nothing had she lived these las
few years with one whose sense of homo
was high and nature pure. Inseusibly thai
ideal her husband reverenced had inhu
enced her. Not now did che think 30 much
OF her wealth and her luxuries as shc
weighed the choice she had to make; per
haps she had got used 10 them, and 30 val
ued them the less. Yet, with what she
called love, on one side, and against it only
an intangible something that held heI
back Though she could not name it even
to herselD she hesitated
At length she throws herself upon her
bed dressed as she is, and slsep settles on
her eyelids. Conscience for the time is
slenced in her breast, but it keeps her has
band sleepless as it whispers Of the wroDg
he had dooe the woman that he loved, and
night deepens toward the dawn.
Some impulse makes him rise at lsst and
20 10 her ROOM He shades the night light
with his hand and bends over her as she
lies flushed and smiling in her SAUNDERS.
"Horscel Horace" whisper the warm
and pouiing lips. and Gilbert grows ghast-
ly pale, and his hand trembles His brain
seems TO reel, and there is strange noise
in his ear. He sinks into low chair by
the bed, and tries to calm himself, bat that
odd noise only grows the louder. Surely,
surely it is rot bis own heart throbbing 90
wildly? Is 1t the wind rising, or the sound
Of the distant water? he wonders vaguely,
as it grows louder snd louder and ever
seems more near.
Fire! Fire Fire. comes cry upon the
night, and then the rush OF hurrying feet,
and Celia springs from her couch culver
ing with terror.
Save me. save me, Gilbert Why don't
you save mt?" she cries, but Gilbert turns
from her hurryiog to the adjoining room
where his child and hers lies alone in its
inrocent help'essnesss.
The father seized the boy in his Grms, but
Celia grovels at his feet in utter self aoan-
con. The surface polish has dropped from
her, aud the wild animal instinct of self
preservation swakens within her and con-
qusrs every mob er feeling.
a bitter smile curls Gilbert's lips for
moment, aud his soul is full of unutterable
contemplation his face changes.
Men think quickly in such moods as his,
and he glances at the beautiful creature
more in pity than scorn. No wonder life
is sweet to her, since youth and beauty and
love-such love are hers. He drags her
to her feet and, holding still his child,
rushes TO the door. The stairs are a mass of
flames alresdy aud exit by them is impos-
alone in this quarter of the house. Closing
the doors to shut cut for brief moment by
its frail barrier the sitting smoke and heat,
he flies TO the window, which is fortunately
open to the calm summer night. Blow it
runs narrow ledge of ornamental wood
work. Can he reach that numbered as he
is? 1t is the only chance, and danger and
hope give him strength, as further along he
sees q ladder at another window whence
other frightened inmates are making their
escape. In that horror of danger, it is,
alas! every man for himself and his OVID,
and Gil6erts cries for help are all I'M
heard. How is he to reach the place?
Celia is all but helpless in her terror, and
the father and the husband must choose
between his wife and child. The footing
is OF the narrowest, and had he been the
strongest of living men he could not have
helpsd two at once across the giddy bridge
'tTixt life and death.
Agonize1ly he looks from wife to child,
from child to wife, and as he looks the
shawl be has wrapped round his innocent
darling drops from the little deformed
shoulders. All what can life be to such
one at best but pain? At worst, such ag-
Ony as he himself has had to bear. And
the glorious woman is clipging
to him for help, her scented hair bowiDg
against his cheek, her soft white arms
him with their unwonted touch, |
One moment, one moment my dar |
lingw he cries, as be places the child on .
the ledge cling TO that outiut and you'll /
be safe" And hastily, with that IN
natural strength which nervous organizl- /
tons alone can attain in times of supremtst /.
tension, cluichiDg here and there an ornl- /
ment, here aud there a spar or window |
frame, he half leads half drsgs the fright
ened woman toward the means Of safety, /
aud reaches the spot where the open
French window gives for a moment surer
aud below rested the ladder o.
escape.
'Let ne have her, Burrell, let me have
her; there's not a moment TO lose, cries a
voice, and pair of strong arms are out |
stretched, and WarburtOn 8 handsome face |
s lit up by a sudden jet of fire amidst the
moke from the windows
Merciful Heaven. is it for this he has .
sGved bef? To give her into the very arms /
IF the man who has won her love- With F.
4 wild impulse of frantic salOusy he draws
ler closer, 30 close that che almost ceases
% breathe, and the jewels GA her uncover
ID breast cut into the white and delicate
lssh.
Next moment she feels the strain relax,
md the next has reached those Ouistretch-
d arms, lowered to them by the help OF
he mqn whose heart she has betrayed
;he reaches the ground, Row she knows
Tot, and now the animal terror is past and
he woman in her reawakened.
Save him, save him, Horace! Save
lin and my boy" she cries, as she sees
nee more on the giddy ledge the dark fig
Ire of her husband clssping his child and
lers to his breast.
Once again that psrilous walk is attempt
a, bat the child can give no help, and
he father is all hut spent and totters at
sch step, while now from every window
Orgues OF fire leap out TO catch the wood
cork on which be rests.
A cry goes up-"Wait, wait, well bring
ne ladder nearerr' and willing hands and
hrobbing hearts make rush to carry out