A litter was procured, the wounded man placed upon it, when eight stout pairs of hands gently raised and bore it to Alden's little cottage, only two blocks distant. As the silent form was laid on the bed, the two ladies entered the apartment, and the men immediately withdrew. The physician examined the wounds on the head and announced they were not necessarily fatal, and gave the opinion that he had fainted from exhaustion. His hands and arms were badly burned, and there was every indication of a hard struggle. His clothing was burned and torn, and as he lay upon the bed gasping for breath, the two trembling women mingled tears of sympathy with prayers for their darling's recovery. CHAPTER XX. THE SECRET MARRIAGE. The day following the fire was gloomy; the smouldering pile of brick, stone and charred timbers marked the work of the destroying element. The immense factory was a ruin, and among the débris were seen the iron frames of intricate machinery, whose busy hum had so long gladdened the hearts of seven hundred operatives and their kindred. Many sad faces gathered about the ruins, and with trembling voices asked: "What will become of our wives and little ones?" George Alden's act of heroism was the theme of general conversation, and prayers for his recovery sprang spontaneously from the hearts of men who had seldom prayed before. The newspapers were full of glowing eulogiums of the brave fellow who lay in so critical a condition. His spirit seemed undecided whether to remain in the bruised tenement or wing its flight to another world, but two devoted women watched at his bedside, and a skilful surgeon noted every movement of the patient, who occasionally opened his eyes and stared unmeaningly about. No intelligible words escaped his lips, for his mind wandered. But near the hour of noon, he opened his eyes, exclaiming: "Where is the key? Oh, how it burns! Tell Belle and Fannie I died doing my duty," and, closing his eyes, was silent. Suddenly opening them again, he looked about, as if in doubt of his whereabouts. When his gaze became fixed on Belle and Fannie, for the first time since the disaster he spoke coherently and said: "God bless you both! where am I?" "In your own bed, George. Do you feel better?" gently replied his sister. "My poor back is broken. Did I--did I save them?" "Yes, all escaped. Do you remember it?" said Fannie. "Yes--yes, but never mind." Raising his burned hand to Belle's, he said: "You are _so_ kind to remain with me," then closed his eyes as if exhausted. A spasmodic moan escaping him, he cried out: "My back is broken! I shall be a cripple and a burden to my friends. Oh, why did I escape?" His two companions tried to calm him. As Dr. Briar entered the apartment, George looked into his face and asked: "Doctor, is my back broken?" The kind-hearted physician did not reply, but soothed him with encouraging words.