Emilia had intended not to sleep; she would keep awake all the night, and wait for Gerald in the morning--the morning of the day which was to be for her the herald of a new and happier life. She bore Mrs. Seaton no malice for the indignities she had suffered in her house. There was no room in Emilia's heart for anything but love. With what heartfelt gratitude did she dwell upon the image of Gerald, the noblest man on earth. "I thank God for him," she sighed. "Dear Lord, I thank Thee that Thou hast given me the love of a man like Gerald. My Gerald! Is it true? Can it be real? Ah, yes; I see his dear eyes looking into mine; his dear voice sinks into my heart. Make me grateful for the happiness before me!" It stretched out into the future years, a vista of peace and love and joy. Insensibly she sank upon her knees and prayed, and when she rose the room, the world, and all that it contained, were transfigured. How fair, how sweet was life! She had prayed for Gerald and for herself, had prayed that she might prove worthy of him, and might be endowed with power to brighten his days. Then she sat before the fire, and clasping her knee with her hands, imagined bright pictures in the glowing points of lights. She felt herself sinking to sleep. "I will just close my eyes for a few minutes," she thought. There were warm rugs about the room. Loosening her dress, she threw herself upon the couch, and covering herself with the rugs, fell asleep with joy in her heart and a smile on her lips. At half-past three in the morning Gerald, after an absence of half an hour or so, was returning to the street in which his house was situated, when he saw an angry glare in the sky, and heard sounds of confusion in the near distance. Almost instantly A fire-engine raced past him. He hastened after it, partly from instinct, but chiefly because it was going in his direction. He had, however, no idea that the danger personally concerned him. Long before he reached his street he was undeceived. Crowds of people encompassed him, and he found it difficult to proceed. Three or four fire-engines were at work; firemen were risking their lives in the enthusiasm of their noble work; policemen were keeping back the excited lookers-on. "My God!" he cried, as he turned the corner; "it is my house, and Emilia is there!" Frantically he strove to force his way through the crowd, which would not give way for him at first, but he redoubled his efforts, and running under or leaping over firemen, policemen, and the men and women who were surging round, he tore off his coat, and rushed toward the burning building. He was pulled back, and escaping from those who held him, darted forward again with despairing cries, and was caught in the arms of one who knew him. "It's all right," cried this man to the firemen. "Mr. Paget has escaped from the house."