“Yes, Heaven bless him for it!” she replied, kissing my forehead.
“That’ll be a score for him,” said I; “I’m so glad.”
My mother evidently did not quite understand this point of view, and concluded I had been talking more than was good for me, and once more implored me to be silent.
But I had no notion of giving up my inquiries at this stage.
“Did he get hurt doing it?” I asked.
“Only his hand a little.”
“How did he get at me?”
“Every one thought you were safe out of the burning room with the others. When it was found you were not, Tempest rushed back before any one could stop him, and carried you out. He had not got outside with you more than a second or two when the roof and staircase and all fell in.”
Here she shuddered as once more she bent over me and kissed me.
This was all I wanted to hear at present, and I closed my eyes in order to think it over the better.