other. Kiss me!"

He darted upon her again and bent her fair head back by the fallen
braids of her silky hair.

The tall woods filled with majestic light; something roared as if the
winds had gone astray and were rushing towards them.

"Hark!" cried Virgie. "God is coming to punish you."

As she spoke the ground beside them burst into flames and black smoke.
The man's arms relaxed; he looked around him and exclaimed,

"It's the underground fire. Run fur your life!"

He led the way, running to the north, as they had been going. In a
moment fire, like a golden wall, rose across their path.

They turned whence they had come, and the fire there was like a lake of
lava, and over it the enormous trees seemed to warm their hands, and up
the dry vines, like monkeys of flame, the forked spirits of the burning
earth dodged and chased each other.

"Gal, I can't leave you to perish," the desperate man shouted; "you must
love me or we'll die together."

He threw his wet great-coat around her head, so that she could not
breathe the smoke nor spoil her beauty, and dashed into the fire ahead
of them.

* * * * *

Virgie awoke, lying upon the ground, the stars still standing in the
sky, but some streaks of light in the east betokening dawn.

Her hands were full of soot, her skirts were burned, some smarting pains
were in her legs and feet, but she could walk.

"Where is that poor, deluded man?" she thought.

A groan came from the ground, and there lay something nearly naked,
burrowing his face in a pool of swamp water.

"Thank the Lord you are not dead," the girl said, "but have lived to
repent and be a better man."

He rose up and looked at her with a face all blackened and raw and
hideous to see.

"Merciful Lord!" exclaimed Virgie; "what ails you, pore man?"

"The Lord has punished me for my wickedness," he groaned. "Virgie, you
must lead me now; I am gone blind."

CHAPTER XXXIX.

VIRGIE'S FLIGHT (_continued_).

"Can you walk, Hudson?" asked Virgie, when her horror would permit.

"Yes, child, I can walk, I reckon; but both my eyes is burned out. Oh,
my pore old wife: she could nurse me so well. I have lost her."

The girl comforted the sightless man, and led him on, indifferent to
danger. He waded the deep places, where the water soothed his wounds and
filled his blistered sockets with cool mud.

"Blessed is the pure in heart," he murmured, as they reached some sandy