“Run--run I tell you, if you love me!” she cried in agony. “I can take care of myself now. I’ll manage Waldron--and I know how to die!” He gripped her hand fiercely. With sudden resolution, she tore from his grasp and rushed to meet her rescuer. Vassar no longer hesitated. She had made it impossible for him to linger a moment. He leaped the fence and disappeared in the shadows. Waldron grasped Virginia’s hand in genuine surprise and distress. “My dear Miss Holland,” he said with a touch of royal condescension, “what does this mean?” “I was a prisoner,” she gasped. “A prisoner?” “The brute who ran had seized and dragged me from the lawn and through the streets.” “I’m proud and happy in this chance to prove to you my devotion. You have treated me cruelly. I show you tonight my generosity.” “Thank you,” she murmured gratefully. With a lordly bow he handed her into the car and ordered his chauffeur to drive down the turnpike toward the Holland house. The home was in flames. The Colonel had fired it in revenge for the death of his Lieutenant and sought new headquarters for the night. Virginia found her mother, Zonia, Marya--with old Peter nearby holding Billy in his lap--standing in dazed horror watching the flames leap and roar and crackle. Waldron helped the stricken mother and girl into his car. Virginia lifted her white face. “My father was shot--” “Tonight?” “Yes--” Waldron turned sharply to a guard. “Find his body. It can’t be far and bring it to New York for burial.” “If you will permit me, Miss Holland,” Waldron said with a stately bow, “I will take you and your mother to your house on the Square. I fear it has been looted by the soldiery who got out of hand for a few hours. But you will be safe there from tonight. I will place a guard at your door. You are under my protection now--” “Thank you! Thank you,” Virginia answered in low tones. The Governor-General drove by the army headquarters, spoke for a moment to the Commander-in-chief, arranged the programme for the triumphal entry into the city, secured a cavalry escort and leisurely drove back into New York through miles of weary plodding, stunned and maimed refugees still fleeing before the savage sweep of the imperial army. He placed Virginia and her mother in their wrecked home and stationed a guard at the door. With lordly condescension he took her hand in parting: “Please remember, Miss Holland, that I’m the most powerful man in America today. My word is law, and I am yours to command.” “You are generous,” she answered softly. He lifted his hand in protest, bowed and took his seat again in his automobile. Virginia stood beside a broken window and watched the swiftly galloping horses of his escort sweep past the little park toward Broadway.