Gazing, she dreamed of the glowing embers, and they told her of life’s struggle, fierce, hot and fiery, and their crackling spoke of sharp surprises, and every falling coal of losses and separations. She watched the leaden ashes gather over the bright embers, and thought how she, too, would some day return to the dust, after her forehead was wrinkled with age, as the fires of youth slowly burned out, just as every seamed log before her was seamed and scarred by the flames. But these thoughts were only for a moment, for the fire had just been kindled in her heart, and she would have to sit and watch it glow and flicker and flame for a long time yet. Oh, that the kind Father of all spirits had granted that the leaden ashes should have gathered at the same time on her life-hearth as on his, and that their fires might have died out together! It was so hard to outlive those she loved! During the days that followed, wild rumors came of fires and murder and pillage; and the women and children who would be left in Columbia after Hampton’s cavalry had evacuated the city trembled as they saw the nightly glow in the southeast growing brighter and the smoke growing daily denser. Till at last on the memorable fifteenth of February the men in blue appeared on the Lexington side of the Congaree and fiery shells fell without warning into the city. Helen, standing by the white pillars of the old colonial porch, saw Major Goodwin riding rapidly down the street. He noticed her, too, and called, “I will get you a guard—am going now to see General Sherman.” Then the bluecoats appeared here and there in the outskirts of the city, and Hampton’s cavalry hovered on the north to see that all was well before the evacuation. Soon the mayor returned and brought with him four Union soldiers. “The general readily granted me the guard for you, Miss Brooks,” he said. “In fact, a regiment is to be marched into the city to be used for guards by those who want them. I surrendered the city unconditionally, and I do not fear much danger, as he promised me that all would be as safe in his hands as if I myself were in command.” “And they will not fire it? Oh, how good of them!” “He asked me about our waterworks and I told him they were in good condition. He was pleased at that, and said that he would be obliged to burn the public buildings, but not to-night, as it was too windy.” “And there is no danger?” “I don’t know—I don’t know. The soldiers all say—that is, some of them have told me that they would burn Columbia; that it has been the common talk around the camp fires for a long time. Somehow, one of them said, they had taken the idea that Columbia accidentally fired would be a particularly pleasant sight to General Sherman. The Fifteenth Corps is in the city; but you are safe. Your guard will protect you, and I am glad, for Bessie’s sake.