Her life, even though she might never be his, was more precious by far to him than his own.
The news was too good to keep. He knew that there were others who would rejoice to hear it. He hailed and engaged a passing cab, and with the paper yet clasped in his hand, ordered the driver to go as fast as he could to No. — Fifth avenue. The more haste he made the better he would be paid.
Any one who knows what a New York cabman is can fancy how those poor old horses were lashed forward under that promise. Mr. Bergh, luckily for the driver, did not see him, and thus in about half an hour Mr. W—— stood on the steps of the Legare mansion, and the cabman drove back at a slow walk with a ten-dollar bill in his pocket, about one-fifth of which would reach his employer’s hands that night when he rendered in his day’s work.
In a few seconds Mr. W—— was in the library, where the servant told him he would find Mr. Legare, and by the time he got there Frank, Lizzie, Mrs. Emory, and even Little Jessie were in the room, for they had seen him alight from the cab, and feared he had brought bad news.
“Have you heard from Miss Butler? Is she safe?” cried Mrs. Emory.
“Don’t speak if she’s lost—don’t—don’t!” screamed Lizzie, for, seeing how pale he looked, she feared the worst.
“If she’s dead I’ll die, too,” moaned Frank.
“She is not only safe, but her heroism has made her immortal. She has saved over four hundred lives,” cried Mr. W——, waving the paper in his hand. “I came as fast as I could to be the first to bring the glad news.”
“Oh, you dear, dear fellow!” screamed Lizzie, and she threw both her white plump arms about his neck, and kissed him again and again.
“I don’t care if all the world sees me,” she added, as Frank cried out: