Margaret and Betsy set about restoring Mrs. Medhurst while the master ran to the cottages nearest for assistance. More quickly than in ordinary times it would have seemed possible, the men arrived with pails of water brought from the horse-pond. No fire-engine was available nearer than six miles, and a grave danger which has come to many an isolated farmhouse now threatened Oaklands. The smoke was issuing in volumes from a cupboard in the pantry, but no sign of flame came from there. Quickly Mr. Medhurst ran his hands over the surrounding walls, only to find they were unaffected. "Try the kitchen, sir--maybe the old beam's caught," said James. And James was right. The picturesque oak beam which crossed the kitchen chimney was, in the structure of the house carried down at the back of the old range, and this had evidently become ignited. Why it had endured its torturing position so long without kindling, no one can say. Now, as Mr. Medhurst ran his hand over the walls circling the mantelshelf, he came upon a spot which was red hot. "There it is!" he exclaimed, and with a few blows of a pickaxe a man tore an opening in the brickwork, quickly to discover fire raging fiercely where the old beam was fully alight. Pails of water, and an old garden syringe (which was the only thing in the nature of a hose to be found) soon did their extinguishing work, and presently the scent of charred wood and a broken wall were the only signs of the grave danger which had threatened Oaklands. "God's mercy it didn't brak out airly in the neight," muttered a thoughtful helper; "the ould place would a ben burnt to a cinder." The results of the fire were not so happily over as the inmates thought. From that day Mrs. Medhurst's strength seemed to fail her, and Mr. Medhurst and Margaret both saw the coming change which was to completely alter the life of everyone of the household. It was in the glory of August days of sunshine that Mrs. Medhurst grew daily weaker. Although sickness had taken away her almost royal beauty, and left her outwardly little resemblance to the handsome woman who had first welcomed Margaret into her home, there was now a sweet expression upon the patient face of the invalid. Sorrow had touched her deeply, but in the trouble she had turned to One of Whom it is said, "He knows what lies in the darkness." And into the darkness of a thraldom, the chains which she of herself could not break, He Who alone can set the devil's captives free, had broken the fetters which had bound her.