or the first
time the old songs that Reginald Stanford had loved. She was almost
surprised at herself to find how easily she could sing them, how little
emotion the memories they brought awoke. Was the old love forever dead,
then? And this new content at her heart--what did it mean? She hardly
cared to ask. She could not have answered; she only knew she was happy,
and that the past had lost power to give her pain.

It was late when they separated. Good-byes were said, and tender-hearted
little Agnes cried as she said good-bye to Doctor Frank. The priest and
the physician walked to the little village together, through the cold
darkness of the starless winter night.

At the presbytery-gate they parted, Father Francis going in, Doctor
Danton continuing his walk to the distant cottage of a poor sick
patient. The man was dying. The young doctor lingered by his bedside
until all was over, and morning was gray in the eastern sky when he left
the house of death.

But what other light was that red in the sky, beside the light of
morning? A crimson, lurid light that was spreading rapidly over the face
of the cloudy heavens, and lighting even the village road with its
unearthly glare? Fire! and in the direction of Danton Hall, growing
brighter and brighter, and redder with every passing second. Others had
seen it, too, and doors were flying open, and men and women flocking
out.

"Fire! Fire!" a voice cried. "Danton Hall is on fire!"

And the cry was taken up and echoed and reechoed, and every one was
rushing pell-mell in the direction of the Hall.

Doctor Frank was one of the first to arrive. The whole front of the old
mansion seemed a sheet of fire and the red flames rushed up into the
black sky with an awful roar. The family were only just aroused, and,
with the servants, were flocking out, half-dressed. Doctor Frank's
anxious eyes counted them; there were the Captain and Grace, Harry and
Agnes, and last of all, Kate.

The servants were all there, but there was one missing still. Doctor
Frank was by Grace's side in a moment.

"Where is Eeny?"

"Eeny! Is she not here?"

"No. Good Heaven, Grace! Is she in the house?"

Grace looked around wildly.

"Yes, yes! She must be! Oh, Frank--"

But Frank was gone, even while she spoke, into the burning house. There
was still time. The lower hall and stairway were still free from fire,
only filled with smoke.

He rushed through, and upstairs; in the second hall the smoke wa