Still looking at the fire he watched the glowing embers, now reddening, now darkening--or leaping up into sparks of evanescent flame,--and presently stooping, picked up the little dog Charlie from his warm corner on the hearth and fondled him. "You were the first to love me in my loneliness!" he said, stroking the tiny animal's soft ears--"And,--to be quite exact,--I owe my life and all my present surroundings to you, Charlie! What shall I leave you in my will, eh?" Charlie yawned capaciously, showing very white teeth and a very red tongue, and winked one bright eye. "You're only a dog, Charlie! You've no use for money! You rely entirely upon your own attractiveness and the kindness of human nature! And so far your confidence has not been misplaced. But your fidelity and affection are only additional proofs of the powerlessness of money. Money bought you, Charlie, no doubt, in the first place--but money failed to keep you! And now, though by your means Mary found me where I lay helpless and unconscious on the hills in the storm, I can neither make you richer nor happier, Charlie! You're only a dog!--and a millionaire is no more to you than any other man!" Charlie yawned comfortably again. He seemed to be perfectly aware that his master was talking to him, but what it was about he evidently did not know, and still more evidently did not care. He liked to be petted and made much of--and presently curled himself up in a soft silken ball on Helmsley's knee, with his little black nose pointed towards the fire, and his eyes blinking lazily at the sparkle of the flames. And so Mary found them, when at last she came down from her room to prepare supper. "Is the headache better, my dear?" asked Helmsley, as she entered. "It's quite gone, David!" she answered cheerily--"Mending the lace often tries one's eyes--it was nothing but that." He looked at her intently. "But you've been crying!" he said, with real concern. "Oh, David! Women always cry when they feel like it!" "But did _you_ feel like it?" "Yes. I often do." "Why?" She gave a playful gesture with her hands. "Who can tell! I remember when I was quite a child, I cried when I saw the first primrose of the spring after a long winter. I knelt down and kissed it, too! That's me all over. I'm stupid, David! My heart's too big for me--and there's too much in it that never comes out!" He took her hand gently. "All shut up like a volcano, Mary! But the fire is there!" She laughed, with a touch of embarrassment. "Oh yes! The fire is there! It will take years to cool down!" "May it never cool down!" said Helmsley--"I hope it will always burn, and make life warm for you! For without the fire that is in _your_ heart, my dear, Heaven itself would be cold!" CHAPTER XIX