nd only think, when the uproar was the greatest, and
the fire was sending showers of sparks into the air, as if they were
rockets, something began to howl and cry so loud from the very top of
the barn, and we found it was Lora, the great St. Bernard dog, who had
puppies up there.

"And how that poor dumb creature did cry out for help! I could hear
from my window that no one would go up after her,--'Being a dog,' they
all said. And all at once I saw a ladder, and one--two--three--a figure
disappeared up there in the flames. What do you think, Mr. Linden
brought them all down, the old dog and her young ones--all of them."

The little girl's eyes sparkled with tears.

"But he has a mark of it on his arm to be sure," she added, "and
it was only a dog after all. What was it in comparison with a man's
life?--Aunt Rosa was so angry with him and said, when he came down here
pale and suffering with the pain, he might have lost his life. Then he
said that such a stupid thing as his life wasn't worth a straw! And
just as he had said it, Diana began to scratch so furiously at the
door, and he rushed out at such a rate that I thought the lightning
must have struck again, and as I ran out behind him, he had you already
in his well arm, and declared that he knew you would come."

Gertrude got up at this point, and walked to the door. But here she met
another obstacle. This was Aunt Rosa, who was just coming out of her
bedroom in the most astonishing morning array and the most enormous
white nightcap that a lady ever wore. She nodded to Gertrude, and laid
her small withered hand on her shoulder.

"The dear God always opens a way for the hard heart to soften," said
the ancient dame, "Yes, in hour of need, the heart has wings on which
it is lifted above all the petty foolishness of pride and perversity.
It was just before the closing of the door, too, my dear child, for
yesterday afternoon, after a certain man had had an interview with him,
I folded my hands and prayed to God to give him strength to bear the
blow--I was afraid he would never get over it."

Adelaide Strom now went softly out of the door and the old woman
remained standing before the young wife, and the tall form seemed
almost to shrink beneath her thin transparent hand. But neither spoke.
The eastern sky grew redder, and then the first rays of the sun played
on Gertrude's brown hair.

Suddenly she covered her face with her hands. "My happiness is over, I
can never