"Well, it was impossible to save the house, and no one attempted such a preposterous feat. It was all that the neighbours could do to prevent the spread of the flames to the nearby houses. Some of the furniture was saved, but the house was left to burn. All of a sudden, Fanny Tomlin——"
"You mean Aunt Fanny?" interrupted Nan.
"Yes, my dear. All of a sudden Fanny Tomlin remembered that her mother's portrait had been left hanging on the wall. Without a word to any one she ran into the house. How she ever passed through the door safely, I never could understand, for every instant, it seemed to me, great tongues and sheets of flame were darting across it and lapping and licking inward, as if trying to force an entrance. You may be sure that we who were looking on, helpless, held our breaths when Fanny Tomlin disappeared through the doorway. Pulaski Tomlin was not a witness to this performance, but he was quickly informed of it; and then he ran this way and that, like one distraught. Twice he called her name, and his voice must have been heard above the roar of the flames, for presently she appeared at an upper window, and cried out, 'What is it, brother?' 'Come down! Come out!' he shouted. 'I'm afraid I can't,' she answered; and then she waved her hand and disappeared, after trying vainly to close the blinds.
"But no sooner had Pulaski Tomlin caught a glimpse of his sister, and heard her voice, than he lowered his head like an angry bull, and rushed through the flames that now had possession of the door. I, for one, never expected to see him again; and I stood there frightened, horrified, fascinated, utterly helpless. Oh, when you go through a trial like that, my dear," said Mrs. Lumsden, stroking Nan's hair gently, "you will realise how small and weak and contemptible human beings are when they are engaged in a contest with the elements. There we stood, helpless and horror-stricken, with two of our friends in the burning house, which was now almost completely covered with the roaring flames. What thoughts I had I could never tell you, but I wondered afterward that I had not become suddenly grey.
"We waited an age, it seemed to me. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, who happened to be here at the time, was walking about wringing his hands and crying like a child. Up to that moment, I had thought him to be a hard and cruel man, but we can never judge others, not even our closest acquaintances, until we see them put to the test. Suddenly, I heard Major Perdue cry, 'Ah!' and saw him leap forward as a wild animal leaps.
"Through the doorway, which was now entirely covered with a roaring flame, a blurred and smoking figure had rushed—a bulky, shapeless figure, it seemed—and then it collapsed and fell, and lay in the midst of the smoke, almost within reach of the flames. But Major Perdue was there in an instant, and he dragged the shapeless mass away from the withering heat and stifling smoke. After this, he had more assistance than was necessary or desirable.
"'Stand back!' he cried; and his voice had in it the note that men never fail to obey. 'Stand back there! Where is Dorrington? Why isn't he here?' Your father, my dear, had gone into the country to see a patient. He was on his way home when he saw the red reflection of the flames in the sky, and he hastened as rapidly as his horse could go. He arrived just in the nick of time. He heard his name called as he drove up, and was prompt to answer. 'Make way there!' commanded Major Perdue; 'make way for Dorrington. And you ladies go home! There's nothing you can do here.' Then I heard Fanny Tomlin call my name, and Major Perdue repeated in a ringing voice, 'Lucy Lumsden is wanted here!'
"I don't know how it was, but every command given by Major Perdue was obeyed promptly. The crowd dispersed at once, with the exception of two or three, who were detailed to watch the few valuables that had been saved, and a few men who lingered to see if they could be of any service.
"Pulaski Tomlin had been kinder to his sister than to himself. Only the hem of her dress was scorched. It may be absurd to say so, but that was the first thing I noticed; and, in fact, that was all the injury she had suffered. Her brother had found her unconscious on a bed, and he simply rolled her in the quilts and blankets, and brought her downstairs, and out through the smoke and flame to the point where he fell. Fanny has not so much as a scar to show. But you can look at her brother's face and see what he suffered. When they lifted him into your father's buggy, his outer garments literally crumbled beneath the touch, and one whole side of his face was raw and bleeding.
"But he never thought of himself, though the agony he endured must have been awful. His first word was about his sister: 'Is Fanny hurt?' And when he was told that she was unharmed, he closed his eyes, saying, 'Don't worry about me.' We brought him here—it was Fanny's wish—and by the time he had been placed in bed, the muscles of his mouth were drawn as you see them now. There was nothing to do but to apply cold water, and this was done for the most part by Major Perdue, though both Fanny and I were anxious to relieve him. I never saw a man so devoted in his attentions. He was absolutely tireless; and I was so struck with his tender solicitude that I felt obliged to make to him what was at once a confession and an apology. 'I once thought, Major Perdue, that you were a hard and cruel man,' said I, 'but I'll never think so again.'
"'But why did you think so in the first place?' he asked.
"'Well, I had heard of several of your shooting scrapes,' I replied.
"He regarded me with a smile. 'There are two sides to everything, especially a row,' he said. 'I made up my mind when a boy that turn-about is fair play. When I insult a man, I'm prepared to take the consequences; yet I never insulted a man in my life. The man that insults me must pay for it. Women may wipe their feet on me, and children may spit on me; but no man shall insult me, not by so much as the lift of an eyelash, or the twitch of an upper-lip. Pulaski here has done me many a favour, some that he tried to hide, and I'd never get through paying him if I were to nurse him night and day for the rest of my natural life. In some things, Ma'am, you'll find me almost as good as a dog.'
"I must have given him a curious stare," continued Mrs. Lumsden, "for he laughed softly, and remarked, 'If you'll think it over, Ma'am, you'll find that a dog has some mighty fine qualities.' And it is true."
"But what about Margaret Gaither?" inquired Nan, who was determined that the love-story should not be lost in a wilderness of trifles—as she judged them to be.
"Poor Margaret!" murmured Gabriel's grandmother. "I declare! I had almost forgotten her. Well, bright and early the next morning, Margaret came and asked to see Pulaski Tomlin. I left her in the parlour, and carried her request to the sick-room.
"'Brother,' said Fanny, 'Margaret is here, and wants to see you. Shall she come in?'
"I saw Pulaski clench his hands; his bosom heaved and his lips quivered. 'Not for the world!' he exclaimed; 'oh, not for the world!'
"'I can't tell her that,' said I. 'Nor I,' sobbed Fanny, covering her face with her hands. 'Oh, it will kill her!'
"Major Perdue turned to me, his eyes wet. 'Do you know why he doesn't want her to see him?' I could only give an affirmative nod. 'Do you know, Fanny?' She could only say, 'Yes, yes!' between her sobs. 'It is for her sake alone; we all see that,' declared Major Perdue. 'Now, then,' he went on, touching me on the arm, 'I want you to see how hard a hard man can be. Show me where the poor child is.'
"I led him to the parlour door. He stood aside for me to enter first, but I shook my head and leaned against the door for support. 'This is Miss Gaither?' he said, as he entered alone. 'My name is Perdue—Tomlin Perdue. We are very sorry, but no one is permitted to see Pulaski, except those who are nursing him.' 'That is what I am here for,' she said, 'and no one has a better right. I am to be his wife; we are to be married next month.' 'It is not a matter of right, Miss Gaither. Are you prepared to sustain a very severe shock?' 'Why, what—what is the trouble?' 'Can you not conceive a reason why you should not see him now—at this time, and