The stars were paling, and the dark east was growing wan, when Cedar House rose at last out of the gray shadows.  At the first glimpse of it Ruth suddenly sent the pony forward and urging him to a run, left the others far behind.  Reaching the house, she leapt to the ground and ran to the front door.  It was deeply in shadow, but she did not need sight to find the latch string, which she had played with as a child, and in another instant she stood in the great dark room.  It was deserted all the household being asleep, and never dreaming that she also was not safely in bed.  The fire had been covered as it always was at night, but it blazed when she stirred it, and by the light of the flame she found a candle on the tall mantelpiece.  Holding this to the blaze, it seemed to her as if it would never catch the flame.  When the wick caught she went running up the stairs with the lighted candle in her hand, arousing the sleeping household by repeated calls.  She did not pause to answer the alarmed cries that came in response.  She heard a scream from Miss Penelope’s room, with, muffled sounds from the widow Broadnax’s, and the disapproving tones of William Pressley’s voice.  But she was utterly heedless of everything, except the necessity of getting the room ready in time, so that there should be no waiting before doing what might be done.  She quivered with terror to think how long the delay had been already.  The servants were too far away to be summoned quickly, so that there was only herself to do what must be done, and she set about it in desperate haste.  Hers was the only chamber that could be given him.  Every room in Cedar House was occupied, and it was always her room which was given to a guest, so that she often slept on a couch in Miss Penelope’s chamber.  But she did not think of that; there was no thought of herself, beyond wishing to give him her own room.  Had there been ever so many guest chambers, she would still have wished him to have hers.  But to get it ready in time!  To make sure that there should be no further waiting before doing all that human power could do.  Even now it might be too late.  The wood fire had almost burned out, and to kindle a blaze was the first thing to be done, so that she ran straight to the hearth and dropped on her knees beside it.  There was a little heap of sticks in the chimney-corner, but her hands trembled so that she could hardly put them on the dying coals.  The breath that she coaxed the flame with came in gasps, but a blaze quickly sprang up and leapt among the sticks, and then she flew to prepare the bed.  If she might only get it ready before they came!  The thought of that helpless head lying against Father Orin’s shoulder was like a stab at her heart.