Only a few more yards! On! On! On! A blinding red mist obscured her sight.
She lost the opening in the fence, but unheeding she rushed on.
Another second and she stumbled; she felt herself grasped by eager arms; she heard the gate slam and the iron bar shoot into place; then she felt and heard no more.
Silas Zane bounded up the stairs with a doubly precious burden in his arms.

A mighty cheer greeted his entrance.

It aroused Alfred Clarke, who had bowed his head on the bench and had lost all sense of time and place.

What were the women sobbing and crying over?
To whom belonged that white face?
Of course, it was the face of the girl he loved.

The face of the girl who had gone to her death.