“Your arm is hurt—­is burned!” said Dinah coming forward quickly, her eye detecting that much in a moment.  “Gertrude, bring me the oil and the linen.  I will bind it up before I do aught else.  When the air is kept away the smart is wonderfully allayed.”

The burn was rather a severe one, but the Master Builder seemed to feel no pain under the dexterous manipulation of Dinah’s gentle, capable hands.  When he would have thanked her she gave him a quick look, and made a low-toned answer.

“Nay, nay, I can hear no thanks from thee.  Do I not owe thee my life?  But for thee I should not be here now.  It is I who must thank thee—­only I have no words in which to do it.”

“Then let us do without words between us for the future, Dinah,” said the Master Builder, possessing himself of one of her hands, which was not withdrawn.  “If thou hadst perished in the fire, life had had nothing left for me.  Does not that show that we belong to each other?  I have not much to give, but all I have is thine; and I think thou mightest go the world over and not find a more loving heart!”

CHAPTER XX.  THE FLAMES STAYED.

“Something must be done!  The whole city must not perish!  It is a shame that so much destruction has already taken place.  What are the city magnates about that they stand idle, wringing their hands, whilst all London burns about their ears?”

Young Lord Desborough was the speaker.  He had risen in some excitement from the table where he had been seated at breakfast, for James Harmer had just come in with the news that the fire was still burning with the same fierceness as of old; that it had spread beyond the city walls, Ludgate and Newgate having both been reduced to a heap of smoking ruins; that it was spreading northward and westward as fiercely as ever; whilst even in an easterly direction it was creeping slowly and insidiously along, so that men began to whisper that the Tower itself would eventually fall a prey.

“Nay, now, but that must not, that shall not be!” cried Lord Desborough in great excitement.  “Shame enough for London that St. Paul’s is gone!  Are we to lose every ancient building of historic fame?  What would his Majesty say were that to perish also?  Zounds! methinks my Lord Mayor must surely be sleeping.  In good King Henry the Eighth’s reign his head would have been struck off ere now.

“Thou hast seen him, thou sayest, good Master Harmer.  What does he purpose to do?  Surely he cannot desire all the city to perish.  Yet, methinks, that will be what will happen, if indeed it be not already accomplished.”

“He is like one distraught,” answered Harmer.  “I went to him yesterday, and I have been again at break of day this morn.  I have told him how we saved the bridge, and have begged powers of him to effect great breaches at various points to stay the ravages of the flames; but he will do naught but say he must consider, he must consider.”