At last the driver, fearing for his life, jumped off his dray and left all to their fate. But a figure took his place that thrilled Dennis’s heart with horror.
There on the high seat stood Susie Winthrop—rather Mrs. Leonard. The light of insanity glowed in her eyes; her long hair swept away to the north, and turning toward the fiery tempest she bent forward as if looking for someone. But after a moment she sadly shook her head, as if she had sought in vain. Suddenly she reached out her white arms toward the fire, and sang, clear and sweet above the horrid din:
“O burning flakes of fiery snow,
Bury me too, bury me deep;
My lover sleeps thy banks below;
Fall on me, that I may sleep!”
At this moment a blazing brand fell upon the horses’ heads; they startled forward, and the crazed lady fell over on the corpse below. The animals being thoroughly terrified turned sharp around on the sidewalk, and tore their way right toward the fire, trampling down those in their track, and so vanished with their strangely assorted load.
Dennis, fearing to stay any longer where he was, determined to follow in their wake and find a street leading to the north less choked, even though it might be nearer the fire, and so with his trembling companion he pressed forward again.
Two blocks below he found one comparatively clear, but in terrible proximity to the conflagration. Indeed, the houses were burning on each side, but the street seemed clear of flame. He thought that by swiftly running they could get through. But Christine’s strength was fast failing her, and just as they reached the middle of the block a tall brick building fell across the street before them! Thus their only path of escape was blocked by a blazing mass of ruins that it would have been death to cross.
They seemed hemmed in on every side, and Dennis groaned in agony.
Christine looked for a moment at the impassable fiery barrier, then at Dennis, in whose face and manner she read unutterable sympathy for herself, and the truth flashed upon her.
With a piercing shriek she fainted dead away in his arms.
XLIV
On the Beach
In the situation of supreme peril described in the last chapter, Dennis stood a second helpless and hopeless. Christine rested a heavy burden in his arms, happily unconscious. Breathing an agonized prayer to heaven, he looked around for any possibility of escape. Just then an express-wagon was driven furiously toward them, its driver seeking his way out by the same path that Dennis had chosen. As he reached them the man saw the hopeless obstruction, and wheeled his horses. As he did so, quick as thought, Dennis threw Christine into the bottom of the wagon, and, clinging to it, climbed into it himself. He turned her face downward from the fire, and, covering his own, he crouched beside her, trusting all now to God.
The driver urged his horses toward the lake, believing that his only chance. They tore away through the blazing streets. The poor man was soon swept from his seat and perished, but his horses rushed madly on till they plunged into the lake.
At the sound of water Dennis lifted his head and gave a cry of joy. It seemed that the hand of God had snatched them from death. Gently he lifted Christine out upon the sands and commenced bathing her face from the water that broke in spray at his feet. She soon revived and looked around. In a voice full of awe and wonder she whispered, “Ah! there is another world and another life, after all.”
“Indeed there is, Miss Ludolph,” said Dennis, supporting her on his arm and bending over her, “but, thanks to a merciful Providence, you are still in this one.”
“How is it?” she said, with a bewildered air. “I do not understand. The last I remember, we were surrounded by fire, you were despairing, and it seemed that I died.”
“You fainted, Miss Ludolph. But God as by a miracle brought us out of the furnace, and for the present we are safe.” After she had sufficiently rallied from her excessive exhaustion and terror, he told her how they escaped.
“I see no God in it all,” she said; “only a most fortunate opportunity, of which you, with great nerve and presence of mind, availed yourself. To you alone, again and again this dreadful night, I owe my life.”
“God uses us as His instruments to do His will. The light will come to you by and by, and you will learn a better wisdom.”
“In this awful conflagration the light has come. On every side I see as in letters of fire, ‘There is no God.’ If it were otherwise these scenes would be impossible. And any being permitting or causing the evils and crimes this dreadful night has witnessed, I shall fear and hate beyond the power of language to express.”
She uttered these words sitting on the sands with multitudes of others, her face (from which Dennis had washed the dust and smoke) looking in the glare so wan and white that he feared, with a sickening dread, that through exposure, terror, or some of the many dangers by which they were surrounded, she might pass into the future world with all her unbelief and spiritual darkness. He yearned over her with a solicitude and pity that he could not express. She seemed so near—indeed he could feel her form tremble, as she kneeled beside her, and supported her by his arm—and yet, in view of her faithless state, how widely were they separated! Should anyone of the many perils about them quench the little candle of her life, which even now flickered faintly, where in the wide universe could he hope to meet her again? God can no doubt console His children and make up to them every loss, but the passionate heart, with its intense human love, clings
