“I knew, I knew,” said Ezra. “That was why I came. Olive was here.” “But she wasn’t, she never had been here at all,” interrupted Madame. “I shouted, but no answer came. I could not find Olive. I remember the awful agony of it. My head seemed turning to fire and I couldn’t find Olive. I don’t remember any more.” “You fell and knocked yourself senseless,” said Madame. “Is Olive safe? Tell me, are you sure Olive is safe?” “Didn’t I tell you I passed her on her way home?” said Madame a little sharply. “But this fire!” exclaimed Ezra, starting up. “We must get out of this.” “Hush, lie down again,” said Madame, her voice dropping again into its tone of caressing entreaty. “Your head must be still giddy or you would perceive that we are surrounded. We can’t get out until the fires meet and extinguish each other. Rest and be patient.” Ezra saw that this was true. They were entirely surrounded by a ring of retreating fire, the heat from which was oppressive. He sat down again, but did not lay his head in Madame’s lap. Perhaps it was because he felt less giddy. He asked her how she came there, and Madame very briefly told him, dwelling not at all upon her share in finding him, but rather upon the sagacity of Balthasar. Ezra, however, was not to be deceived. “You risked your life for me this night, Madame,” he said slowly, when she had finished speaking. “Possibly. I never thought about it. I could not leave you here to die, to be burnt to death. Had the case been reversed you would have come to my rescue.” “You are the most generous of mortals, the noblest of women,” said Ezra earnestly. “It was assuredly the brightest day of my life that led me across your path. You taught me how to live, and to-night your generous hand has saved me from death.” “Hush!” said Madame faintly. “I owe my life to you,” repeated Ezra. “What shall I do to repay such a debt?” “Am I a usurer that I should exact my pound of flesh?” answered Madame. “Usurer!” exclaimed Ezra. “That is indeed the last word to be applied to you. Is a usurer one who is always giving? Giving from her wealth freely and without stint? Is a usurer one who is ever helping and directing into the paths of righteousness those who are feeble and faltering of step? Ah, Madame, I never can half tell you all that I owe you! How narrow and selfish would my life have been but for you! Devoted to petty cares, absorbed in personal ambitions, rejoicing in sordid gains,—such would have been my fate, only Providence brought me to you to be taught, guided, elevated, purified. My life is yours, you have made it, dearest, wisest, best, of friends.” “And Olive?” said Madame quietly. “Ah, there too shall be your handiwork seen,” said Ezra. “My little Olive is very young. Sometimes I think her mind is even younger than her body, and she is barely twenty, you know, a mere child and easily moulded.”