between the burning curtains, felt that she had a hold of something, dragged it out, found it move and gasp, bore it from the room, and, depositing it on a couch in the gallery, only then could perceive that it was indeed Mrs Nesbit, uninjured, though half-suffocated.
Mrs. Garth, who slept in the adjoining room, with the door open, had been waked by her call, and came running out. An old soldier, she had full self-possession, and was at once effective, and it was well, for she exclaimed, 'Miss Martindale, you are on fire,' just as the light and the scorching were revealing the same to herself. There was no time for personal terror, barely for pain, the fire was crushed out between them by the help of a woollen table- cover, they scarcely knew how, they only saw that the draught had increased the blaze in the room, and dense clouds of smoke came bursting out upon them.
Mrs. Nesbit clung terrified to her niece, but Theodora, with a word or two of encouragement, freed herself from her grasp, and leaving her to Mrs. Garth's care, flew up the nursery stairs. She must have the children in their mother's sight before the alarm should reach her. Sarah's first waking impulse was to growl, that Master Johnnie would catch his death of cold, but the next moment she was equal to any emergency; and the little ones were at their mother's door just as she was opening it, thinking the noise more than Maria's illness could occasion, and setting forth to see whether there was anything amiss in the nursery. Theodora put Annie into her arms. 'All safe. It is only the north wing. Don't be frightened. Stay where you are.'
Violet could only obey, thankful at having her three around her, and trying to keep her terror from being visible enough to increase Johnnie's exceeding alarm, or to frighten Helen out of her happy state of inquisitive excitement and curiosity.
Theodora had hurried to call her parents. They were already in motion. Lord Martindale's first care was for Violet and the children, Lady Martindale's for her aunt, and almost instantly she was embracing and supporting the pale shrunken figure, now feebly tottering along the gallery, forsaken by Mrs. Garth, who had gone back to secure her own valuables.
By this time, the gallery was full of screaming maids, whom Sarah had, with difficulty, prevented from leaping at once from attic windows; and staring men, hallooing for water, which no one brought, except little Helen, who, escaping from her mother's room, ran barefooted into the midst, holding aloft the water-bottle triumphantly, and very indignant at being captured, and carried back in the butler's arms.
The fire was spreading so fast that Lord Martindale decided on removing all the helpless to the gardener's house at the end of the pleasure ground. He came himself to call Violet, told her not to be alarmed, and, taking his grandson in his arms, led the way. Mrs. Nesbit was carried on a mattress between two of the servants, Lady Martindale walking beside her, absorbed in trying to guard her from injury or alarm; Annie, asleep and unconscious, was in her mother's arms, and Theodora carried the amused and chattering Helen. At the foot of the stairs, Violet exclaimed, 'My cross, I must not leave it!' and would have turned, but Theodora prevented her. 'I know where it is,' she said, 'I am going to see how they are moving Maria;' and putting Helen into the nearest pair of arms, she ran back.
Harrison's successor, Mr. Armstrong and his wife were on foot, and ready to receive them. Their spare bed was for Mrs. Nesbit, in their own the three children were placed. In all his haste, Lord Martindale paused till he could lay his little shivering ice-cold charge in the bed, and see him hide his head in his mother's bosom. 'Good boy!' he said, 'I told him not to cry for you, and he has not made a sound, though I have felt him trembling the whole way. Take care of him.'
Little did she need the recommendation, though it sent a thrill of gladness through her that it should have been made at such a time. She had great apprehension of the effect of the shock on the child's tender frame and timid nature, his obedience and self-command seeming almost to enhance the excess of terror. The shuddering horror and convulsive clinging were beyond control, and were renewed whenever a fresh glare broke out from the burning house; to turn him away from the window, or to put up blinds and curtains made it worse, for the shadows of the trees, flickering mysteriously, seemed still more terrific. His sister screamed with excitement and delight at each brighter burst of flame, till she suddenly laid down her head and fell fast asleep; but still his nervous trembling continued at intervals, and his mother could not leave him, nor cease from saying consoling words of his heavenly Guardian, the only means that soothed him, especially when his sighing exclamation recurred, 'O, if papa was but here!' the tune to which her heart was throbbing throughout that dreadful night. She felt guilty of being useless, but he was her first care, and her power of real service was small: so she could only hang over him, and as she watched the healthful sleep of her little girls, join her prayers and thanksgivings with his, that all papa's treasures were safe. Not till the flames were dying down, morning twilight showing cold and gray, and Sarah coming in with bundles of rescued garments, was Johnnie's mind free enough to unclasp his hand, and show something fast held in it. 'Aunt Helen's cross, mamma; I thought I might keep hold of it, because I was frightened.'
Her caresses lulled him at last to sleep, while she grieved at Theodora's having gone in search of the cross. She knew of her safety from Sarah, who reported that she had been working like any ten; but she had not yet seen her, and the silence and suspense became oppressive.
Theodora had hardly spent a moment in seeking the cross, she tied on Violet's bonnet over the hair falling round her, hurried to assist in carrying the sick maid to a bed made up for her at the stables, and then, missing the dumb page from among the servants, she rushed back to look for him, dashed up the stairs through thick smoke, found him asleep, and crossing a floor that almost burnt her foot, she shook him awake, and saw him too in safety. She bethought her of her brother John's possessions, now that the living were all secure; she hurried into the work, she tore down his prints and pictures, carried them and his books out,--desks, drawers, weights she would never have dreamt of lifting, were as nothing to her. Many times did her father meet her, exclaim and urge her to desist, and to go to Armstrong's; she said she was just going: he went in one of the thousand directions in which he was called at once, and presently again encountered her, where he least expected it, coming out of a cloud of smoke with a huge pile of books in her arms! On she worked, regardless of choking, blinding smoke--regardless of the glare of flame--never driven from the field but by a deluge from a fire- engine; when stumbling down-stairs, guided by the banisters, she finally dismayed her father, who thought her long ago in safety, by emerging from the house, dragging after her a marble-topped chess table, when half the upper windows were flashing with flame.
Then he locked her arm into his, and would not let her stir from his side.
Water had been the great deficiency. Fire-engines were slow in coming, and the supply from the fountains was as nothing, so that the attempt had necessarily been to carry out property rather than to extinguish the fire. Sarah, after coolly collecting all that belonged to her mistress or the children, had taken the command of Miss Altisidora Standaloft, (who usually regarded her as vulgarity personified,) scolded away her hysterics, and kept guard over her, while she packed up her lady's jewels and wardrobe, not until then allowing her the luxury of shrieking at every jet of flame. The other servants and the villagers had worked with hearty goodwill below stairs; and when Theodora had time to look around, the pleasure-ground presented a strange scene. Among the trodden plants and shrubs lay heaps of furniture, sofas, chairs lying tumbled here and there, with plate, pictures, statues, ornaments heaped in wild confusion, crowds of people, in every variety of strange dishabille, gathered round; two long lines of them handing bucket after bucket, with machine-like regularity, from the fountain; others removing the furniture from the terrace; cushions, ormolu, fine china, handed out of the lower windows; the whole seen by the wild lurid light that flashed from the windows above, strangely illuminating the quiet green trees, and bringing out every tiny leaf and spray by its fierce brilliancy, that confused every accustomed shadow, while the clouds of smoke rolled down as if to wither all around.
And above the rushing roaring sound! the thunder of falling ceilings; the red light within some familiar windows; the gray sky reflected in others, till, after a few uncertain flickers, the glow awoke in them also. Then arose the whiter gusts of vapour, when water, hissing and boiling, contended with fire.
In vain! the flame surmounted! Shouts, cries! Lord Martindale pushing nearer, calling to all for heaven's sake to come out, leave all, only come out; men rushing from the doors, leaping from the lower windows; one dark figure emerging at the moment before a tremendous crash shook the earth beneath their feet; the fire seemed for a moment crushed out, then clouds of smoke rose wilder and denser, yellowed by the light of the morning; the blaze rushed upwards uncontrolled, and the intensity of brightness, behind and above the walls, glared on the mass of awe-struck faces. There was not a movement, not a word, not a sound, save that of the roaring flame.
The first voice was Lord Martindale's: 'Are all out? Is every one safe?'
'Yes, my lord, all but the claret of 1826,' said that last to escape, half-clad, grimy, and singed, only in courteous voice, the butler.
'Thank God!' said Lord Martindale, fervently. 'And, Simmonds, thank you for what you have done to-night;' and
