The library wing was in flames which seemed to blaze the more fiercely under the lash of the down-slanting rain. But it might still be possible to save the main house, and I ran to the fire alarm, the familiar rustic apparatus of a great, iron ring suspended from a stout framework; and made it give furious tongue, swinging the heavy hammer until my arms seemed ready to pull away from their sockets. But help was at hand, Zack and Zeb at the head of a body of field hands; and with them the old-fashioned hand-pumping fire engine which had been preparing itself for just such an emergency through a full century of watchful waiting. Our domestic fire brigade had been well drilled, and the immediate danger was soon past; finally we succeeded in getting the blaze in the library wing under control. The interior had been entirely gutted, and the roof had fallen in. But the walls remained standing, and, apparently, they had suffered but little damage. The storm was over and once again the sun was shining. Innumerable brilliants flashed on the smooth emerald of the lawns, the leaves of the lindens were rustling softly, and a Baltimore oriole, gorgeous in his orange and black livery, returned scornful challenge to a blue jay's chattering abuse. I might have deemed it but the awakening from a horrid nightmare, were it not for the incredible fact that Betty's hand lay close in mine and Chalmers Warriner was asking me for a cigarette. Whereupon I distinguished myself by crumpling down at Betty's feet; somebody drew the cap of darkness over my eyes. Chapter XX _The Blind Terror_ For three days I wandered in a phantasmagoric wilderness, my principal obsession making me identify myself with that pair of Hebrew spies staggering under the weight of those enormous grapes; would we never lose sight of Rahab's scarlet cord, and be again in safety and quiet! Then the confusion in my head cleared away, and I saw that it was really Betty who sat by my bed and not "Black Jack" Thaneford. * * * * * Yes, John Thaneford lies quiet and still in S. Saviour's churchyard--with his forefathers and mine--and enmity should end at the edge of the grave. God knows that each one of us needs forgiveness, both human and divine, for the deeds done in the flesh. * * * * * This morning I am allowed to sit up. Betty is busy at her household accounts, and Little Hugh is playing on the floor with blocks and tin soldiers. What a tremendous big chap he is! Perhaps a trifle shy of me at present, but time will soon put that to rights. * * * * * A beautiful day, and I am feeling almost if not quite myself. To-morrow I am to get up, and Chalmers Warriner is coming to dinner. * * * * *