ball room. But they did not appear either that night, or any other
night. They kept their cottage rooms closely, sitting out only in the
rear, and were waited upon by the two black servants they had brought.
Various were the conjectures about them, and vague stories soon took
shape. The hotel register told only their names: Mrs. Glencarron, Mrs.
Hamilton and daughter, from Mississippi. The daughter was an invalid,
and this was all that could be drawn from the faithful blacks. The
girls pouted, and mamas looked unutterables when their curiosity found
no relief; while the men were wisely silent, though equally diligent in
fruitless investigation.

It was past midnight, and the lights were out, when the ominous cry of
"fire!" sounded through the grounds, striking terror to the visitors
thus suddenly startled from their sleep, and emptying the cottages of
their half-clad occupants by one accord. A glance at the crackling
flames showed that Bachelors' Row was on fire and doomed. Men from the
distant village were soon on the spot with buckets, and amid frightened
cries, confused questions, and a general hurrying, scurrying of feet, a
few had presence of mind to cover the main building with wet blankets,
lest the trees now snapping and hissing might drop a blazing brand and
the whole place go down.

After the first panic had subsided there was nothing to do but stand
and watch the graphic scene; and while thus engaged the attention of
some was attracted by a face white and drawn as with pain among the
by-standers. It was that of one of the mysterious ladies of the southern
cottages. But even as they noted the faded beauty and aristocratic
bearing of the stranger she was hurried away by another figure closely
wrapped and hooded. Not before she had ejaculated: "Oh, what is it?
Is she----?" and there the words were lost.