“My God, then she has escaped! Oh, what will Mr. Delaney say? I must go and find her! She must not leave the house!” cried Mrs. Griffin, breaking from him and continuing her flight up the stairs. He followed and overtook her. “Woman, are you mad?” he cried to her. “Of course she must leave the house. Every one must leave it. It will be burned to the ground presently! And hark you, if my erring child is here--if she perishes in this holocaust of flame--her blood will be upon your head!” “Oh, Mr. Rodney, she is not here!” Mrs. Griffin answered, so earnestly that he could not but believe her. “She was here a little while ago, but she went away. I let her out of the kitchen door myself. I saw her go away.” “Then, where can she have gone?” he cried distractedly. “I do not know; but I must find that poor crazy soul!” she cried, again breaking from him and fearlessly rushing into the smoke filled hall. Mr. Rodney ran down the steps, flung wide the front door, and sent his voice ringing out into the snowy night: “Fire! fire! fire!” A distant shout answered him from some belated wayfarer whose ear had been caught by the ominous words. He waited for no more, but, leaving the door ajar, ran back into the hall, and knelt down by the side of the man whom, in his murderous wrath, he had tried to murder just now. Mr. Delaney lay quite still and motionless in the spot where he had fallen, save that Mrs. Griffin had turned him over upon his back, giving him better facilities for breathing. The long fringe of the lashes lay dark and stirless, against his cheeks, but his chest heaved faintly, showing that life was not quite extinct. Strange to say, Mr. Rodney was overjoyed to find that he lived. “I am glad I did not kill him,” he muttered. “For deeply as I have been wronged, it was terrible to feel myself a murderer.” He examined the wound, and found that his bullet had entered Mr. Delaney’s shoulder near the breast, but not necessarily in a vital part. With care he might, perhaps, recover. “But what shall I do with him now?” he thought, in perplexity, hearing a babel of voices outside. “He cannot remain here, and it would be too dangerous to remove him far.” He decided rapidly that he could not do less than to remove him to the cottage. By some strange revulsion of feeling, he was now most anxious to save the life of the man whom but a little while ago he had been tempted to kill. A score of men came hurrying over the threshold of the open door just then. By the help of some of these the wounded man was carefully removed to Mr. Rodney’s house, a physician was hastily summoned, and the men returned to the scene of the fire. The only fire-engine the small town afforded was quickly upon the spot, and every effort was made to save the burning house.