in order that aline should not discover her presence, little joan had been put to sleep the first night in an upper chamber, in a wing of the great castle remote from that occupied by the family. to avoid extra trouble on the day of the birthday, she returned there the second night, although in future she was to have a small ante-room connecting with the girls’ chamber. in the rooms below her were the servants who had been hired for the occasion. she half undressed and, as she sat combing her hair, she looked out at the dark night. below, she heard the rushing of the burn, and, dimly, under the starry sky she could see the great hills to the north. there was a close feeling in the air, as though there might be thunder or heavy rain. it was a little oppressive but her heart was so full of gladness that she refused to allow it to influence her.
how strangely things had come about. she remembered the horrible prophecy of “moll o’ the graves” about her going away that seemed to mean death. it was curious how it had been fulfilled and yet not fulfilled. could the old hag really in some way see into the future, and what did the prophecy mean about her beautiful little mistress,—“she shall follow not long after; marry, i see the fire about her”? they had indeed come near379 to burning her, but she had escaped the flames. “well, all has turned out for the best so far. mistress aline said that the light would overcome the dark. i believe she is stronger than old moll, after all,” she thought.
she had finished combing her hair, and after kneeling before her little crucifix was soon in bed and asleep.
aline meanwhile, however, lay awake; the heavy storm-feeling in the air would not allow her to rest. she was excited also from the events of the day. after an hour or two she got up and looked out. the stars had all gone and the thick clouds made the night impenetrably black. shiona was sound asleep. she crept back again to bed and tossed and tossed, but it was of no avail. another hour passed. she thought she would get up and feel for the tinder box and light the lamp. where was it? could she find it in the dark?
as she lay there wondering, it seemed to get a little lighter. yes, it was certainly getting lighter, surely it could not be morning yet. she lay for a few minutes, things in the room were rapidly becoming visible, but that was surely not daylight; no, it was not daylight. she jumped up and looked out. “gramercy, the castle is on fire.” she looked again; it was the wing where joan slept. she crossed the room and woke shiona. “quick,” she said, “the castle is on fire. wake them all—tell ian—joan will be burnt—i must go.”
she dashed down the stairs, as she was, without staying to put anything on, and ran across the court yard. there she met the terrified servants rushing from the building.
“where is joan, have you seen her?” she asked.
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“no, mistress,” they said, “she must still be in her room.”
aline ran to the foot of the stairs.
“you must not go up,” they screamed, “you must not go up, the stairs will fall.”
it was an unfortunate fact that at some time, when alterations were being made, a wooden stairway had been substituted for the original stone one, which now existed only in a ruinous condition.
but aline ran on without heeding the warnings and started to climb the stairs. the fire had broken out on the second floor and the flames were raging through to the staircase. could she get past? she caught up her nightrobe in a tight bundle on her breast to try to keep it from the fire and made a rush. the flames scorched her skin and she burned her bare feet on the blazing boards. but she managed to get past. one sleeve even caught alight, but she was able after she had passed through to crush it out with her other hand.
“joan, joan,” she shouted, as she made her way into joan’s room. joan was still asleep, partly stupified by the smoke. aline roused her and they rushed back to the stairs, but in the interval the whole stairway had become a bellowing furnace and the flames roared up it, so that they could not look down.
joan gave a little pitiful cry. “we are lost, oh, mistress aline, we are lost.”
“no, not yet, joan, keep up a stout heart; let us try if there be not another way.”
they ran through two rooms in the opposite direction to the stair and came to a door. but it was locked. they tried in vain to open it. they beat upon it, but381 it was beyond their strength to break, so they went back to joan’s room.
“can you climb, joan?” asked aline.
“no.”
“then i must try and let you down.” she seized the bedclothes as she spoke and knotted them together. alas, they could not possibly reach. she remembered how ian had saved wilfred by the rope under the bed and feverishly threw off the mattrass. the bed had wooden laths!
she looked out of the window and saw that a crowd had gathered below. how far down would the bedclothes extend? she made trial and shouted to the crowd that some one should try and find a tall ladder, while others, in case of failure, should bring a blanket and make a soft pile of hay. the crowd scattered and in a few moments there was a great heap of hay and some ten persons holding a blanket stretched above it. yet, look as they would, no ladder was to be found except a little short thing that was no use. possibly the other ladder was in the burning building, possibly it had been mislaid in the festal preparations.
aline’s lips were parched and her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth; for the moment she nearly succumbed to her fear. so it was joan’s life or hers? “why cannot joan climb?” she thought. surely she could manage to get down as far as that? she looked at the child; but she was stiff with terror and absolutely helpless.
somehow aline felt it was not the same thing as when she had swum the river, then she had a chance of her life; indeed, if she had had no chance there was not382 the slightest use in trying to swim, as it could not have helped ian. here there was no chance; could she think of no other way?
the flames roared nearer, she began to find it hard to breathe. “perhaps there is a way,” she said, “but who can think in a case like this?”
joan had now become unconscious. aline thought no more; the sacrifice was made; she tied one end round joan and put a pillow on the sill to prevent chafing. she dragged the bed to the window and took a turn with the extemporised rope round one of the knobs to prevent it going too fast. she lifted the child and gently lowered her toward the ground. for a moment she hesitated again. “could she climb down and untie joan?” no, the whole thing might break.
the drop below joan was about fifteen feet. “hold tight,” she shouted, and those below braced themselves together and gripped the blanket firmly and the child fell into it. she was so light that the hay below was not necessary.
the fire had now reached half across the room itself and was breaking through the floor boards in little tongues of flame, when the choking smoke curled upward.
the end had come then; there was no hope. she turned to go and see if by any chance the locked door could be made to yield. it was vain, as indeed she knew, and the flame and smoke in that room was worse than her own. she ran back and looked out of the window. she thought she saw ian with a white drawn face looking upward, but he disappeared.
once again in the frenzy of despair she rushed to the383 other room and flung herself against the door; but had to stagger back to joan’s room before she was completely overcome. the flames again caught her night robe and she tore it from her as she struggled to the window where she might still breathe. the heat was awful; oh, the pain of it! “but i must die bravely,” she said, “as father would have me do.”
all that she had ever done seemed to rise before her. she saw her mother as in the portrait. she saw her father and audry, and last she saw ian. he seemed to be weeping over her! was she already dead? no, and she prayed;—“lord jesus, thou hast taught me to come unto thee and i beg of thee to forgive me all that i have done wrong in my life. take me in thy arms and if it please thee, end this terrible pain. be with ian and comfort him, lord, when i am gone. watch over little joan and make her happier than i have been. oh, lord, the pain, the pain!” the smoke thickened, she gave one little gasp and spoke no more.
aline was right; it was ian that she had seen below. shiona had first roused her mother and then ian. he had gone to the stairway just in time to see it give way and come down with a crash. he had then endeavoured to get round the other way, but the smoke and flame was impossible. once more he had come down and obtained some wet cloths to wrap over his face and make one more attempt. it was on this occasion that he had glanced up and seen aline at the window.
she looked just as he had seen her in his visions with the flame and smoke rushing round her. it was this then that he had foreseen. it was this that the old woman had foretold. a sword went through his heart,384 followed by a dull crushing pain that seemed to paralyse his will. he ran as in a dream. again he reached the range of upper rooms. the flames belched forth at him and the smoke took weird fantastic shapes. it stretched out long skinny arms as though to hold him back and there all round him were evil mocking faces spitting out at him with tongues of flame.
voices surged through the air. “this is the end, you shall not reach her, she shall die, but you shall live—live.” the voices ended in a peal of laughter. what was life to him without aline. he was going mad. he knew it. mad! mad! that was the fiendish scheme of the powers of darkness. he would live and yet never see anything all his life but the dead child. horrible!
he had come to the worst part; he wrapped one of the wet cloths about his mouth and nose and over his hair and plunged into the smoke and flame. it roared, it stung, it blinded him, he nearly screamed, but he staggered through and came to the great oak door. he tried, like aline, to open it, but it would not yield. he hurled his weight against it; it was of no avail. again and again he tried and then stood back to look for some weapon. a heavy oak table all ablaze stood on one side of the room; he dashed at it, and heaved it over, seizing one of the legs and wrenching at it with all his might. he strove and pulled and then kicked it with his foot. it came away with a loud crash.
it was partly burned and the red hot surface bit into his flesh. he did not care but raised it above his head and turned to the door. tortured by the agony of heat as he was, there, to his excited imagination, appeared the horrible form of “moll o’ the graves,” leering at him385 and barring the way. she seemed to push him back with her bony claw-like hand. he swung the heavy oak leg through the air like a maniac and shrieked,—“all the devils in hell shall not hold me back.” he frothed at the mouth and battered in her skull. she grinned at him as the blood trickled through her teeth and pointed to the monstrous shapes that seemed to gather out of the smoke. he thrust her aside with his foot, his heart ceased to beat, but he thundered on the door. once. twice. thrice. and the fourth time it gave way, while the door flew open and he fell heavily forward.
he scrambled to his feet and hurried on. there, by the window, lay the beautiful little body. as his brain reeled he saw the martyr, george wishart, standing over it in the fire, holding the evil spirits at bay. ian’s eyes seemed to start from his head. he pressed his hands over them as he advanced and looked again. the flames were actually touching her. ah, she was dead, but how unutterably beautiful! why for the second time in his life must death snatch out of it the one supreme treasure? legions of thoughts swirled through his mind. he would paint her like that. why was he not a sculptor? he would immortalise her form in marble. what transcendent loveliness!
as he stooped quickly, suddenly his brain cleared, and, gathering up her hair, he wrapped it in one of the wet cloths and drew it in a single thickness over her face. with another he covered what he could of the exquisite white form and picked it up and ran.
this time the fiends seemed unable to reach him, but before he arrived at the third room there was a reverberating386 roar, part of the floor had given way and a great blank ten or twelve feet wide yawned before him.
once more the voices shouted;—“you are ours—ours—and she is dead.” yet he heeded them not, but turned back a little way, then ran with all his might and leaped and cleared the chasm.
on he went, down the stairs, the madness was on him again. “keep back, keep back,” he shouted as he tore through the crowd. he looked so terrible, his face distorted with pain, as he ran past that they scattered in all directions. shiona, at first, alone dared to follow him. he took aline to one of the lower rooms in the other part of the castle. “oil,” he cried, “send some one for oil and linen.”
little joan was coming timidly behind and ran for the things. ian bent over aline; she did not breathe. he filled his lungs with fresh air and putting his face down to hers breathed into her and drew the air forth. it was the intuition of affection and it saved her life. after a few moments she began to breathe again. joan had then returned with the oil.
it was the smoke and gases of the fire that had suffocated her, and except on the soles of the little feet there were nowhere any serious burns. but there were great red patches here and there all over her, and the arm where the night dress had first caught fire was slightly blistered. he wrapped her entirely in oiled linen, and laid her gently on a mattrass that had been brought down.
all the time he never spoke a word and shiona was frightened at his strange manner. immediately he had finished he fell senseless to the ground. they picked387 him up and laid him on the mattrass. he was badly burned in several places, particularly the palms of his hands; he had also, as they afterwards discovered, strained himself severely in the leap with the child in his arms. for a time he lay still and then began to rave in wild delirium.
they did what they could for him, while walter took his best horse and galloped to stirling for a physician. meanwhile the neighbours from far and near were fighting the fire. there were three well-shafts, carried up to the roof in the walls of the castle; and chains of men and women passed the buckets from hand to hand. the same was done from the burn down below. they did not attempt to do more than keep the fire from spreading beyond the blazing wing. but a new ally came to their aid that helped them not a little. the long threatened storm burst upon them with thunder and lightning, but accompanied by a torrential deluge of rain; and before morning the fire was completely under control.
