ing a dreadful thing outside, about one of
the overseers; at the alarm of fire he had cut his throat, and before
the flames touched him he was taken out. Dreamily she heard Del cry that
the shaft behind the heap of reels was growing hot. Dreamily she saw a
tiny puff of smoke struggle through the cracks of a broken fly-frame.

They were working to save her, with rigid, stern faces. A plank
snapped, a rod yielded; they drew out the Scotch girl; her hair was
singed; then a man with blood upon his face and wrists held down his
arms.

"There's time for one more! God save the rest of ye,--I can't!"

Del sprang; then stopped,--even Del,--stopped ashamed, and looked back
at the cripple.

Asenath at this sat up erect. The latent heroism in her awoke. All her
thoughts grew clear and bright. The tangled skein of her perplexed and
troubled winter unwound suddenly. This, then, was the way. It was better
so. God had provided himself a lamb for the burnt-offering.

So she said, "Go, Del, and tell him I sent you with my dear love, and
that it's all right."

And Del at the first word went.

Sene sat and watched them draw her out; it was a slow process; the loose
sleeve of her factory sack was scorched.

Somebody at work outside turned suddenly and caught her. It was Dick.
The love which he had fought so long broke free of barrier in that hour.
He kissed her pink arm where the burnt sleeve fell off. He uttered a cry
at the blood upon her face. She turned faint with the sense of safety;
and, with a face as white as her own, he bore her away in his arms to
the hospital, over the crimson snow.

Asenath looked out through the glare and smoke with parched lips. For a
scratch upon the girl's smooth cheek, he had quite forgotten her. They
had left her, tombed alive here in this furnace, and gone their happy
way. Yet it gave her a curious sense of relief and triumph. If this were
all that she could be to him, the thing which she had done was right,
quite right. God must have known. She turned away, and shut her eyes
again.

When she opened them, neither Dick, nor Del, nor crimsoned snow, nor
sky, were there; only the smoke writhing up a pillar of blood-red flame.

The child who had called for her mother began to sob out that she was
afraid to die alone.

"Come here, Molly," said Sene. "Can you crawl around?"

Molly crawled around.

"Put your head in my lap, and your arms about my waist, and I will put
my hands in yours,--so. Th