ecklessly on, leaping
charred logs, skirting still burning stumps, and peering eagerly into
the dun veil that wavered to and fro. The appearance of an impassable
ditch obliged her to halt, and pausing to take breath, she became aware
that she had lost her way. The echo of voices had ceased, a red glare
was deepening in front, and clouds of smoke enveloped her in a stifling
atmosphere. A sense of bewilderment crept over her; she knew not where
she was; and after a rapid flight in what she believed a safe direction
had been cut short by the fall of a blazing tree before her, she stood
still, taking counsel with herself. Darkness and danger seemed to
encompass her, fire flickered on every side, and suffocating vapors
shrouded earth and sky. A bare rock suggested one hope of safety, and
muffling her head in her skirt, she lay down faint and blind, with a
dull pain in her temples, and a fear at her heart fast deepening into
terror, as her breath grew painful and her head began to swim.

"This is the last of the pleasant voyage! Oh, why does no one think of
me?"

As the regret rose, a cry of suffering and entreaty broke from her. She
had not called for help till now, thinking herself too remote, her voice
too feeble to overpower the din about her. But some one had thought of
her, for as the cry left her lips steps came crashing through the wood,
a pair of strong arms caught her up, and before she could collect her
scattered senses she was set down beyond all danger on the green bank of
a little pool.

"Well, salamander, have you had fire enough?" asked Warwick, as he
dashed a handful of water in her face with such energetic goodwill that
it took her breath away.

"Yes, oh yes,--and of water, too! Please stop, and let me get my
breath!" gasped Sylvia, warding off a second baptism and staring dizzily
about her.

"Why did you quit the place where I left you?" was the next question,
somewhat sternly put.

"I wanted to know what had happened."

"So you walked into a bonfire to satisfy your curiosity, though you had
been told to keep out of it? You'd never make a Casabianca."

"I hope not, for of all silly children, that boy was the silliest, and
he deserved to be blown up for his want of common sense," cried the
girl, petulantly.

"Obedience is an old-fashioned virtue, which you would do well to
cultivate along with your common sense, young lady."

Sylvia changed the subject, for Warwick stood regarding her with an
i