there no hope of saving it--my pretty cottage--my dear home,
where my mother died!"

"Since you are safe, let the house burn--I care not," muttered Harold.
He seemed strangely jealous even of her thoughts--her tears. "Be
content," he said--"you see, much has been done." He pointed to the lawn
strewn with furniture. "All is there--your picture--your mother's little
chair--everything I thought you cared for I have saved."

"And my life, too. Oh! it is so sweet to owe you all!"

He quitted her for a moment to speak to some of the men whom he had
brought with him from Harbury, then he came back, and stood beside Olive
on the lawn--she watching the doomed house--he only watching her.

"The night is cold--you shiver. I am glad I thought to bring this." He
took off his plaid and wrapped her in it, holding his arm round her
the while. But she scarcely felt it then. Through the yawning,
blazing windows, she saw the fire within, lighting up in its laughing
destruction the little parlour where her mother used to sit, twining
round the white-curtained bed whereon her mother's last breath had been
sighed away peacefully in her arms. She stood speechless, gazing upon
this piteous household ruin, wherein were engulfed so many memories. But
very soon there came the crash of the sinking roof, and then a cloud of
dense smoke and flame arose, sweeping over where she and Harold stood,
falling in showers of sparks around their feet.

Instinctively, Olive clung to Harold, hiding her blinded eyes upon his
arm. She felt him press her to him, for an instant only, but with the
strong true impulse, taught by one only feeling.

"You must not stay here," he said. "Come with me home!"

"Home!" and she looked wistfully at the ruins of her own. 2 D

"Yes--to my home--my mother's. You know for the present it must indeed
be yours. Come!"

He gave her his arm to lean on. She tried to walk, but, quite
overpowered, staggered, fainted, and fell. When she awoke, she felt
herself borne like a child in Harold's arms. No power had she to move or
speak--all was a dizzy dream. Through it, she faintly heard him whisper
as though to himself; "I have saved her--I hold her fast--little
Olive--little Olive!"

When they reached the Parsonage door, he stood still a moment,
passionately looking down upon her face. One minute he strained her
closer to his heart, and then placed her in his mother's arms.

"She is safe--oh thank God!" cried Mrs. Gwynne. "And yo