Fred felt his heart beat faster. He longed to speak with her and learn her thoughts, and yet he did not dare approach her. The peculiar look she gave him, and that vivid blush—what did it mean? He could not make up his mind upon these points, and yet there was a fascination in studying them, for he sometimes persuaded himself that they meant one thing, and then again perhaps its very opposite.
Presently she and her mother returned home, and Fred saw no more of them.
The fire was now under control. All danger of its spreading was passed, and the crowd returned to their several homes well nigh chilled through. A few men remained to watch the fire as it died away, and to see that no sparks were carried to other buildings by the strong east wind.
Among those who remained was John Rexford. He was pale and haggard, and shivered, while the cold wind seemed to penetrate his very bones, yet he clung to the spot as if he would pluck the mystery—the cause of the fire—from the burning mass before him. Finally he approached Mr. Coombs, the sheriff, and said:
"Who was the first to discover this fire?"
"I was," replied the sheriff proudly, with a feeling that he must be looked upon as something of a hero.
"Did you see it from your house?"
"No; I saw it just as I turned the corner, coming toward the stable."
"Coming which way?" asked the merchant, trying to learn something that might give him a clew to work upon.
"Coming from the Falls, of course, where I had been attending court."