CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.
"The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he whose soul its fear subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from." -- BAILLIE.
The Travillas returned home to Ion in November and took up with new zest the old and loved routine of study, work and play.
Elsie was no longer a schoolgirl, but still devoted some hours of each day to the cultivation of her mind and the keeping up of her accomplishments; also pursued her art studies with renewed ardor under the tuition of Lester Leland, who, his health requiring during the winter, a warmer climate than that of his northern home, had come at the urgent request of his relatives, to spend the season at Fairview.
Elsie had a number of gentlemen friends, some of whom she highly esteemed, but Lester's society was preferred to that of any other.
Malcom Lilburn had grown very jealous of Lester, and found it difficult indeed to refrain from telling his love, but had gone away without breathing a word of it to any one.
Not to Scotland, however; he and his father were traveling through the West, visiting the principal points of interest, and had partly promised to take Ion in their way as they returned; which would probably not be before spring.
Mr.and Mrs.Travilla were not exempt from the cares and trials incident to our fallen state, but no happier parents could be found; they were already reaping as they had sowed; indeed it seemed to them that they had been reaping all the way along, so sweet was the return of affection from the little clinging, helpless ones, the care of whom had been no less a pleasure than a sacred, God-given duty; but with each passing year the harvest grew richer and more abundant; the eldest three had become very companionable and the intercourse between the two Elsies was more like that of sisters, than of mother and daughter; the young girl loved her mother's society above that of any other of her sex, and "mamma" was still, as she had ever been, her most intimate friend and confidante.
And was it not wise?
who so tender, faithful and prudent a guide and counsellor as the mother to whom she was dearer than life.
It was the same with the others also--both sons and daughters; and they were scarcely less open with their wisely indulgent father.
Life was not at all sunshine; the children had their faults which would occasionally show themselves; but the parents, conscious of their own imperfections, were patient and forbearing.

They were sometimes tried with sickness too, but it was borne with cheerful resignation; and no one could say what the future held in store for any of them; but God reigned, the God whom they had chosen as their portion, and their inheritance forever, and they left all with him, striving to obey the command to be without carefulness.
The winter passed quietly, almost without incident save one.
Eddie had been spending the afternoon with his cousins at Pinegrove (some of them were lads near his own age, and fine, intelligent, good boys), had stayed to tea and was riding home alone, except that he had an attendant in the person of a young negro boy, who rode some yards in his rear.
It was already dark when they started, but the stars shone down from a clear sky, although a keen, cold wind blew from the north.
Part of the way lay through a wood, in the midst of which stood a hut occupied by a family by the name of Smith, belonging to the class known as "poor whites"; shiftless, lazy, and consequently very poor indeed, they were.

Many efforts had been put forth in their behalf, by the families of the Oaks and Ion, and by others also, but thus far with small results, for it is no easy matter to effectually help those who will not try to help themselves.
As Eddie entered the wood, he thought he smelt smoke, and presently a sudden turn in the road brought into view the dwelling of the Smiths all wrapped in flames.
Putting spurs to his horse, at the sight, Eddie flew along the road shouting at the top of his lungs, "Fire! fire! fire!" Jim, his attendant, following his example.
But there was no one within hearing, save the Smiths themselves.
The head of the family, half stupefied with rum, stood leaning against the fence, his hands in the pockets of his ragged coat, a pipe in his mouth, gazing in a dazed sort of way upon the work of destruction; while the wife and children ran hither and thither, screaming and wringing their hands with never a thought of an attempt to extinguish the flames or save any of their few poor possessions.
"Sam Smith," shouted Eddie, reining in his horse close to the individual addressed, "why don't you drop that old pipe, take your hands out of your pockets, and go to work to put out the fire!" "Eh!" cried Sam, turning slowly round so as to face his interlocutor, "why--I--I--I couldn't do nothin'; it's bound to go--that house is; don't you see how the wind's a blowin'?
Well, 'tain't much 'count nohow, and I wouldn't care, on'y she says she's left the baby in there; so she does." "The baby ?" and almost before the words had left his lips, Eddie had cleared the rough rail fence at a bound, and was rushing toward the burning house.
How the flames crackled and roared, seeming like demons greedily devouring all that came in their way.
"That horse blanket, Jim! bring it here quick, quick!" he shouted back to his servant.

Then to the half-crazed woman, "Where is your baby?
where did you leave it ?" "In there, in there on the bed, oh, oh, it's burnin' all up! I forgot it, an' I couldn't get back." Eddie made one step backward, and ran his eye rapidly over the burning pile, calmly taking in the situation, considering whether the chances of success were sufficient to warrant the awful risk.
It was the work of an instant to do that, snatch the blanket from Jim, wrap it around his person, and plunge in among the flames, smoke, and falling firebrands, regardless of the boy's frightened protest, "Oh, Mr.
Eddie don't; you'll be killed! you'll burn all up!" He had looked into the cabin but a day or two before, and remembered in which corner stood the rude bed of the family, their only one.

He groped his way to it, half suffocated by the heat and smoke, and in momentary dread of the falling in of the roof, reached it at last, and feeling about among the scanty coverings, laid hold of the child, which was either insensible or sound asleep.
Taking it in his young, strong arms, holding it underneath the blanket, which he drew closer about his person, he rushed back again, stepping from the door just as the roof fell in with a crash.
The woman snatched her babe, and its gallant rescuer fell fainting to the ground.