"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?"