Emma, who was close behind her, laughed merrily. "Such a chrysalis of a bride," cried she. "Where are the wings with which to turn her into a butterfly?" Mrs. Lothrop showed them a great box, and then left them. Emma, lifting the lid, glanced shyly at Hermione, who blushed scarlet. Such a lovely array of satin, lace, and flowers! To these girls, who had denied themselves everything and been denied everything, it was a glimpse of Paradise. As one beautiful garment after another was taken out, Hermione's head drooped lower in her delight and the love it inspired, till at last the tears came and she wept for a few minutes unconstrainedly. When this mood had passed, she gave herself up to Emma's eager fingers, and was dressed in her bridal garments. The clock was striking ten when Frank's impatience was rewarded by the first glimpse of his bride. She came into the room with Emma and Mrs. Lothrop, and her beauty, heightened by her feelings to the utmost, was such as to fill him with triumph and delight. To Edgar it was a revelation, for always before, he had seen the scar before he did her; but now he was compelled to see her first, for the scar was hidden under fold upon fold of lace. "No wonder Frank is daft over her," thought he, "if she always looks like this to him." As for Frank, he bowed with all his soul to the radiant vision, and then, leading her up to Mr. Lothrop, awaited the sacred words which were to make them one. As they were being uttered, strange noises broke out in the street, and the cry of "Fire! fire!" rang out; but if the bride and bridegroom heard the ominous word they did not betray the fact, and the ceremony proceeded. It was soon over, and Frank turned to kiss his wife; but just as Emma advanced with her congratulations, the front door burst open and a neighbor's voice was heard to cry in great excitement: "The Cavanagh house is burning, and we are all afraid that the girls have perished in the flames." It was Emma who gave the one shriek that responded to these words. Hermione seemed like one frozen. Edgar, dashing to the door, looked out, and came slowly back. "Yes, it is burning," said he. "Emma will have to go with you to New York." "It is a judgment," moaned Hermione, clinging to Frank, who perhaps felt a touch of superstitious awe himself. "It is a judgment upon me for forgetting; for being happy; for accepting a deliverance I should not have desired." But at these words Frank regained his composure. "No," corrected he, "it is your deliverance made complete. Without it you might have had compunctions and ideas of returning to a place to which you felt yourself condemned. Now you never can. It is a merciful Providence." "Let us go and see the old house burn," she whispered. "If it is a funeral pyre of the past, let us watch the dying embers. Perhaps my fears will vanish with them."