He thought he met with Flora in some leafy coppice and in secret, and that, while conversing with her in a strain of loving tenderness, they were interrupted by the tramp of a body of persons approaching. He fancied that he seized Flora in his arms, and fled with her, but was pursued, and that his pursuers shouted and uttered fierce threats. He looked back, and saw that old Wilton headed Jukes and his followers, as well as Nathan Gomer and his uncle, who seemed to be the most excited of the party, and called him by name loudly. Then, as he still fled, he observed that his pursuers were armed, and he heard his uncle call to them to fire upon him. He fled on; still his uncle’s voice shouted in his ear-- “Fire! fire! fire!” At last he sprang up in his bed, suddenly awakened, and still the voice vehemently cried-- “Fire! fire! fire!” A heavy hand beat violently against the panels of his chamber-door, and completely aroused him. He at once leaped to the floor, and unlocked his door. He found his uncle without, in a state of great excitement--he was half-dressed. “Oh, Lord!” he cried; “I thought you would never wake; there is a fire; throw on your clothes, Hal, my boy!” “A fire! where?” asked Hal, hastily. “Over the way,” returned Mr. Harper; “be quick! while I pacify your aunt, who is frightened to death.” He lit Hal’s candle as he spoke, and shuffled hastily away in his slippers. Over the way! Why Wilton’s house was over the way. Hal felt his blood rush violently through his veins. Over the way! What if it should be there? He drew on his clothes with hasty swiftness, and he heard the low, hoarse sounds of a gathering mob in the streets. The tramp of running feet, the violent knocking at doors, and the shouts of boys and men crying “Fire!” All that was absolutely essential to wear, but nothing that would impede his activity or application of strength, did Hal put on, and then he hurried to one of the front windows of the house and looked out. It is impossible to describe the sudden and violent shock that ran through his frame. Though he had thought it possible, he had not believed it probable that it could be Wilton’s abode which was on fire, yet his first glance told him that the lower part of that house was in flames. A mob had gathered round; an active policeman was pushing it about to clear the way for the inhabitants to bring out their furniture from the burning house--that is, if they had a chance to do aught beyond saving their lives. The door of the house was open, and volumes of smoke were pouring forth. A dull red flame, throwing a ruby glare, was to be seen gleaming through the windows of the kitchen and the parlour. The upper part of the house seemed lost in wreathing dull, gray, cloudy masses of vapour, which rolled up from the seat of the fire.