“Tut, tut, my dear,” returned Mrs. Harper, “don’t think about that—these men are paid for their work; it is their duty, and they are used to it.”
“But Mr. Vivian?” suggested Flora.
“Just what I said, my dear,” observed Mrs. Harper, garrulously. “Hal is neither paid for nor used to such work, but when I said so, he closed my mouth with a kiss, and vowed that it was his duty that he had performed, and if it was to do again he would not hesitate one minute to go through all he did last night.”
“He is so noble!” said Flora, with the faintest of sighs.
“Poor fellow!” ejaculated Mrs. Harper. “He looks rather jaded this morning, and so odd with his whiskers and eyebrows singed with the fierce fire. Ah! it was a dreadful sight.”
“Dreadful!” exclaimed Flora, with a shudder.
“Yes, and he was so eager to know how you were,” continued Mrs. Harper, “Dear me, what a many questions he asked me about you. Ah! well, I told him you should yourself reply to him bye and bye.”
Flora was conscious of a rosy hue stealing into her cheek. She thought of his deep, earnest eyes, and how steadfastly they would after the late event settle upon hers, and how she would never be able to meet his, though she had at other times and recently done so without even a passing thought upon the matter.
Why was this? She sighed—perhaps she guessed.
It was some two or three days before she was enabled to grant an interview to Hal, anxious as she was for the meeting. All her clothes had been consumed by the fire, and Mrs. Harper’s dresses were “a world too wide” for her.