Mrs. Clancy was satisfied.

Another thing had happened to excite remark and a good deal of it.
Nothing short of eternal damnation was Mrs. Clancy's frantic sentence on
the head of her unlucky spouse the night of the fire, when she was the
central figure of the picture and when hundreds of witnesses to her
words were grouped around. Correspondingly had she called down the
blessings of the Holy Virgin and all the saints upon the man who rescued
and returned to her that precious packet of money. Everybody heard her,
and it was out of the question for her to retract. Nevertheless, from
within an hour after Clancy's admission to the hospital not another word
of the kind escaped her lips. She was all patience and pity with the
injured man, and she shunned all allusion to his preserver and her
benefactor. The surgeon had been called away, after doing all in his
power to make Clancy comfortable,--he was needed elsewhere,--and only
two or three soldiers and a hospital nurse still remained by his
bedside, where Mrs. Clancy and little Kate were drying their tears and
receiving consolation from the steward's wife. The doctor had mentioned
a name as he went away, and it was seen that Clancy was striving to ask
a question. Sergeant Nolan bent down:

"Lie quiet, Clancy, me boy: you _must_ be quiet, or you'll move the
bandages."

"Who did he say was burned? who was he going to see?" gasped the
sufferer.

"The new lieutenant, Clancy,--him that pulled ye out. He's a good one,
and it's Mrs. Clancy that'll tell ye the same."

"Tell him what?" said she, turning about in sudden interest.

"About the lieutenant's pulling him out of the fire and saving your
money."

"Indeed yes! The blessings of all the saints be upon his beautiful head,
and--"

"But _who_ was it? What was his name, I say?" vehemently interrupted
Clancy, half raising himself upon his elbow, and groaning with the
effort. "What was his name? I didn't see him."

"Lieutenant Hayne, man."

"Oh, my God!" gasped Clancy, and fell back as though struck a sudden
blow.

She sprang to his side: "It's faint he is. Don't answer his questions,
sergeant! He's beside himself! Oh, will ye never stop talking to him and
lave him in pace? Go away, all of ye's,--go away, I say, or ye'll dhrive
him crazy wid yer--Be quiet, Mike! don't ye spake agin." And she laid a
broad red hand upon his face. He only groaned again, and threw his one
unbandaged arm across his darkened eyes, as though