beautiful martyr at the stake.

Franklin caught up a great bowlder from the ground and dashed it again
and again against the sash till it was broken in, then, stripping off
his coat, muffled his head in it, and sprang like a hero through smoke
and flame to the rescue of his master's bride, catching her up in his
strong arms, and bearing her, after a fierce conflict with the fire,
back through the broken sash to life and safety.

And not a moment too soon, for the roof of the cabin crashed in on the
burning walls ere he had staggered three yards from the scene of his
heroic deed, and the fierce flames, leaping higher, conveyed to two
anxious watchers at Ellsworth the news that they had succeeded in their
damnable crime.

Franklin realized that it was best to let them hug that belief to their
hearts, so all that he did afterward that night was under the veil of
secrecy.

He succeeded in getting an old buggy and conveying Dainty to the
station, where he placed her on the midnight train and bought her a
ticket for Richmond.

No one but black mammy was let into the secret, and unseen by any one in
the gloom of the midnight hour and in the scarcity of travel that night,
she was sent on her way to her mother, Franklin saying to her earnestly:

"Let me advise you, Mrs. Ellsworth, to keep close to your mother, and
away from the fiendish enemies who are seeking to compass your death. I
will take the best care of your husband, and may God send him recovery
from his hurt, that he may restore you to your rightful position, and
punish the wretches who have wronged you both!"

CHAPTER XXXI.

LOST! LOST! LOST!

"Stop! stranger; may I speak with you?--
Ah, yes, you needn't fear--
While I whisper through the grating,
I wouldn't have them hear.
These jailers, if a body
But chance to speak her name,
They roll their eyes so savage,
As if they meant to tame
Some wild beast, and they scare me.
Come nearer, nearer yet;
Come near me till I whisper,
'Have you seen her?--seen Annette?'

"What did they bring me here for?
I say, I want to go!
How shall I ever find her
When I am locked in so?
They lied to me--
'Twas once there in the street,
Where I sat on a doorstep
To rest my aching feet.
They say, 'We'll lead you to her,'
And many times said, 'Come,'
At last I followed, eager
To find my little on