Modern Flirtations: A Novel

by Catherine Sinclair

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  Sir Patrick gave instant information to the civil authorities atHarrowgate, respecting the dangerous madman now in the neighborhood;and when every particular of his adventure had reached Agnes, she feltan undefined sensation of disappointment that the end had not been of amore exciting nature. Never happy unless her mind were in a completefoam of excitement, she lived for sensation, and would have bought itat any price, being heard often to complain, that now nothing everhappened. Every day she considered as a chapter in her own life, intowhich she wished as many incidents crowded as possible, caring littlewhether joy or sorrow prevailed among those around, if the weary vacuumin her thoughts were but filled up. A few elopements or murders made anewspaper extremely acceptable; while even public riots she would haveallowed to a certain pitch, provided she could pull the check-string assoon as they became at all inconvenient or alarming to herself; whileshe often remarked, in a querulous tone, that a revolution had been athing threatened and talked of all her life, without ever seeming anynearer. The world, in short, if arranged to suit her taste, would havebeen one shifting scene of accidents and offences, fires, overturns,explosions, narrow escapes, marriages, births, deaths, mournfulcatastrophes, and astonishing vicissitudes.

  On the evening after the pic-nic at Studley, Sir Arthur having goneearly to bed, at his lodgings near the Granby, Marion accompanied hersister and Mrs. O'Donoghoe, to fulfil a dinner engagement at the CrownHotel; and on their way home, the lively widow rallied Agnes on herprospect of walking at the next coronation, saying, that Lord Doncasterhad evidently laid down twenty years of his life, lately; and that shehad once seen the Doncaster diamonds, then considered the finest familyjewels in Britain, which Queen Charlotte herself was supposed to havecoveted, and the box containing which required two footmen to carry it.

  "The tiara would shine like glow-worms in your dark hair, and thebandeau round your waist would be exquisite! I have heard it remarked,that people in this perverse world will not be happy; that those whohave every wish gratified, and not a want upon earth, invent agrievance for themselves, and live upon it; but I wonder where theMarchioness of Doncaster could find one. You might drive away care inthat beautiful pony carriage, kill time with your grand pianoforte, andread your own happiness in the envy of every one around. Even yoursister seems scarcely so happy at your good fortune as might have beenexpected!"

  "There is no earthly blessing I do not with my whole heart desire forAgnes," replied Marion warmly, when thus appealed to. "But if she hasany plans such as you speak of, let no one ask me what I think, as itis quite enough that she should herself know my utter abhorrence ofthem."

  Tears of indignant sorrow sprang into Marion's eyes, and she gazedearnestly out of the window, trying to conceal and to conquer heremotion, while Mrs. O'Donoghoe exclaimed, in a tone of satiricalburlesque,

  "For of the choice, what heart can doubt, Of tents with love, or thrones without!"

  As their carriage drove on, the night being clear and moon-lit, thewind sweeping over the earth with a rushing sound, and ten thousandstars twinkling in the blue vault above, Agnes remarked, in accents ofsurprise, that crowds of people were running eagerly on the road, withanimated looks, and an appearance of most unusual excitement. Soonafter she heard a rumbling noise behind, as of some heavy vehiclehurtling and thundering along the road; and the next moment afire-engine passed at full speed, amidst the cheers and vociferationsof a dense multitude, who assisted and followed its progress, withlooks of mingled curiosity, delight, and apprehension.

  Marion hastily thrust her head far out of the carriage, and perceivedthat a lurid glare burned on the sky, evidently reflected from HighHarrowgate, while bright spiral flames shot upwards into the flamingarch above, and burning flakes of fire descended in showers ofterrifying brilliancy. Every now and then a fresh burst of dazzlinglight blazed to the very heavens, while Marion watched the flickeringflames with intense and solemn interest; but Agnes, after the firstsurprise was over, sank lazily back into the carriage, saying, with alook of peevish disappointment,

  "It is only a fire somewhere! Fires are so common now, that they excitescarcely any sensation! One might fancy, Marion, that you had avaluable uninsured house at High Harrowgate!"

  "It looks, even at this distance, very awful!" replied Marion. "Thehills are like molten fire, while the broad red reflection on thosemassy clouds makes the very heavens seem on fire! What gleams of fierylight! What sheets of flame! It is fearfully grand! We should pray,Agnes, that no lives may be lost!"

  "Fires are never fatal now! Years ago, they were said to be sometimesreally frightful; but now any one I ever saw might be extinguished witha tea-cup. I never so much as read the accounts in one of thenewspapers. We shall of course be asked to subscribe for thesufferers," added Agnes, in a tone of contemptuous pity, "poorcreatures!"

  "What a strange look of terrified enjoyment is depicted on thecountenances of all who hurry past," exclaimed Marion. "It is curious,that probably some of those people who are ready to risk their lives inextinguishing the flames, would yet feel quite disappointed andill-treated on arriving, to find that there was actually noconflagration. There are no limits to the love of excitement. Whenpeople have made up their great minds to a catastrophe, they feelreally cheated if it does not occur; and I often think, that old peopleespecially wish their few remaining days to be crowded with events,like the last pages in a novel."

  The noise and the mob had greatly increased: loud shouts, hoarse yells,and clamorous cries of fire resounded on every side, with the heavytrampling of a hundred feet, when suddenly Sir Arthur's coachmanwhipped the horses violently, and proceeded forward with unprecedentedrapidity, till Marion fancied the horses must have taken fright at theignited sparks, which were now borne along in the air, and thatmaddened with terror, they were actually running off.

  Agnes, now really in a state of excitement, thrust her head again outof the window, believing that the coachman must be drunk, and that acatastrophe, though not exactly what she would have selected, mightactually occur, and Marion continued anxiously gazing around, tillgradually a horrid sensation of doubt and fear gathered upon her mind,as she looked in the direction from which the light came. The curtainof night was withdrawn--the surrounding scene seemed one mightyfurnace--and the roaring noise of the flames was now distinctlyaudible. At a turn of the road the whole became distinctly visible; andMarion, suddenly uttering a wild cry of horror and amazement, coveredher face with her hands, and sank back, almost fainting, in thecarriage; for she had at once become aware that the fire must be amongthe houses where Sir Arthur lodged. The garden around them was onevivid blaze of burning light--the stems of the trees were visible indark relief, on a drapery of fire--while a brilliant pillar of flame,like a gigantic serpent, twirled its enormous coils upwards into thevery sky. Forked flames appeared bursting from every window, andsweeping over the whole house, which was one great reservoir of fire,while a black volume of smoke rolled far away to the distant horizon.

  "Is there no mistake?" exclaimed Marion, wringing her hands withterror, and bending her head almost to her knees in unendurable grief."Is there no hope? Tell John to drive on faster--faster! O let meout--let me fly to the house! This is dreadful! fearful! Shall we neverreach the spot! Listen to their cries! Let me out! let me out!"

  "Dear Marion! there are crowds giving assistance! He must haveescaped," said Agnes, in trembling accents. "I feel certain he hasescaped. He has surely heard the noise, and called for help!"

  A dense mass of persons round the crashing house, wild with agitation,and vehement in their attitudes and gestures, prevented the carriagefrom advancing farther; but Marion instantly opened the door, sprangout, and with an impetuosity which nothing could resist, rushedonwards. She was not one whose faculties could be prostrated by terroror danger; for it was then that her quick judgment and generous spiritbecame most active; and while crowds were standing around, in vacant,helpless wonder, she reached the spot where a totterin
g ladder had beenplaced against the walls, and where the engines were playing upon theblazing roofs, while flames spouted forth in every direction, and aconfused din of cries and vociferous oaths became audible on everyside.

  Timid and easily frightened on slight occasion, all emotion nowappeared to be dead within the breast of Marion, who paused, while,with bloodless cheek, and a face as rigid as death, she seemed turnedinto stone; yet every word whispered around fell with frightfuldistinctness on her ear.

  "The last house that caught fire is uninhabited, I believe?" asked astranger, calmly. "I am informed that the whole conflagration wasraised by a madman--a perfect Guy Fawkes, who afterwards escaped. Thereare crowds of servants belonging to the heiress Miss Howard, and he hadsome scheme of carrying her off; but most mercifully she and herattendants were all saved."

  "Very fortunate indeed, as the stair-case is now falling in," addedanother, while crash followed crash in frightful succession. "Some onetalked of a blind gentleman being there, but that is probably apicturesque addition, to give the story interest, for that tall houseseems really empty."

  At this moment, a low murmur of grief and horror arose among the crowd,followed by a death-like silence. In a part of the building high abovewhat had yet been consumed by the flames, though already undermined,the shutters of a window were slowly opened, the sash hastily thrownopen, and the venerable figure of Sir Arthur appeared there, his greyhair streaming in the wind, and his head stretched forward in the actof listening. He raised his hand to his forehead, as if bewildered, andseemed evidently calling for help; but his feeble voice was lost amidthe war of elements, the crackling and blazing of all around, and theloud crash of falling timber.

  No one had a hope of his being rescued, and the most selfishlyindifferent looked on with breathless dismay, while Agnes threw herselfon the grass in an agony of horror and despair; but Marion rapidlygrasped her hand with convulsive energy, saying, in a low deep whisper,"I shall save him, or die with him."

  Using the speed of thought she flew forward, while every voice wasraised in loud shouts to stop her; and several persons, as soon as theybecame aware of Marion's rash intentions, followed vehemently inpursuit, determined to force her back; but eluding their grasp, shewrapped her large cloak around her, and ascended the crackling beams ofthe staircase, beneath a shower of glowing sparks, while blazing flameswere running round the cornices and ceiling, with a sound likeincessant thunder.

  The smoke nearly blinded her--the smell of burning wood becamesuffocating--and the heat was nearly unbearable. Long wreaths of fireand smoke soon shut Marion out from the view of those who followed, andnone could pursue with their eyes the fearful progress of herenterprise, while she hurried onwards, having one only thought in herheart, that Sir Arthur, blind and alone, was calling for help, andmight yet perhaps be saved. A wooden gallery, leading from the stair toSir Arthur's room, though fringed with an intense and devouring flame,which had almost entirely burned it away, showed yet a plank remainingclose to the wall, charred and blackened, while shrivelling andcrackling in the devouring element. Over this Marion quickly butcautiously glided; and opening the Admiral's door, she tried to composeher voice, saying in a clear, distinct tone--

  "I am here, uncle Arthur! come away quickly! give me your hand!"

  "What is the matter, Marion? What is all this?" replied he, turninground with a quivering lip, and in a tone of piercing agitation. "Theblessings of your blind and helpless uncle be upon you! I am soagitated and confused! Where is the fire? Every body had forgotten mebut you!"

  "Uncle Arthur!" answered Marion, hurrying with him towards the door,where they were almost suffocated by a dense cloud of dust and smoke;"you were always brave and determined. All our courage is necessarynow. Be firm and we may escape. You are now at the door. This woodengallery is nearly burned away. It could not sustain us both, and noearthly power shall persuade me to go first. You can only impede me byspeaking of it. Lose not a moment, then, for that will but increase ourdanger. Cling close to the wall; feel it all the way. I shall call outwhen you are safely over. Then remember the fifty steps we alwayscounted to the first landing-place. After that, turn to the right, andyou are safe. May the Almighty protect and guide you!"

  "But Marion! my dear child! you are coming this way too?"

  "Yes! or perhaps some other!" said she, assuming a tone ofindifference, while she despondingly gazed at the rapidly consumingbeam, and the thick smoke, which arose like mist before her sight.

  "Go on, dear uncle, and pray for yourself and me."

  Marion led Sir Arthur to the very brink of the yawning gulf, andcautiously placed him on the tottering gallery, deaf to his entreatiesthat she would seek her own safely first, and imploring him not torender her enterprise unavailing by delay. Flames were leaping upwardsin the dark abyss beneath, dust and mortar fell in clouds on everyside, while the heat and noise of the flashing light became more andmore terrific; but still she spoke calmly to him, in tones ofconfidence and encouragement, giving directions while he remained insight, and anxiously watching, as he slowly and cautiously groped hisway. All Sir Arthur's firmness of look and voice had now returned, ashe questioned or thanked her, when suddenly a deafening crash tookplace over head, an impending fragment of the roof was precipitatedwith a roaring convulsion upon the spot where a moment before theAdmiral had stood, and nothing now remained beneath the eye of Marionbut a hideous gulf of smoke and ruins, one bewildering medley ofcrackling beams and falling floors, a mighty mass of horror, which itmade her giddy to behold.

  Marion ceased now to speak, fearful that her voice might induce SirArthur, if yet alive, to return; and nearly hopeless of his havingescaped, she now felt that no duty was so imperative, as, if possible,to seek her own safely. Yet what resource remained? Her heart beathurriedly, stopped and beat again, while a choking sensation arose inher throat, when for the first time she fully contemplated her owninstant danger. The noise was like that of a mighty wind, while theflames swept the very heavens, with a sound more appalling than theloudest thunder, and she hurried almost breathlessly back to SirArthur's apartment, which had not yet been attacked by the devouringelement.

  The heat was even there so intense, that she hastened to a window forair, and a shuddering groan burst from the surrounding multitude whenthey beheld her; but no succor was near, while the door becameinstantly blockaded by shivered beams and smouldering ruins, which hadfallen at the entrance, setting it on fire, and she saw around longaisles of flame, and deep caverns filled with surges of fire and smoke.

  Marion felt now that death impended in its most terrifying form. It wasno new thing with her to prepare for the certain approach ofdissolution; yet often as she had tried to realize the idea of thatmighty change, never did it appear before with the appallingdistinctness, which now filled her spirit with unutterable awe, whilestanding as it were between earth and heaven, all beneath full ofboundless terror, but all above promising peace, and full of hope.

  No effort of her own could avail. Marion looked at the long line oftall houses on her left, untouched by the flames. She glanced at thecrowd below, all anxiously gazing upwards, in death-like stillness, andat the garden, which seemed paved with faces; but while the consumingflames pursued their desolating track, not a hope of rescue appeared. Astorm of burning ashes fell on every side, and all around was awhirlwind of fire and smoke.

  Marion's figure became conspicuously seen at the window, every pane ofwhich was already so heated by the blazing conflagration behind, thatshe leaned against the shutters, and gazed towards heaven, as ifalready lost to all connection with the world around.

  "Martyrs have willingly died in a scene like this," thought she. "Letme also testify the faith in which I die."

  Marion clasped her hands, while now her spirit rose superior to danger,and, seeing the hundreds gazing at her in silent, horror-strucksympathy, she calmly pointed upwards, that all might remember thecomfort derived from a hope full of immortality.

  The heat had become so in
tense, that Marion, choked almost tosuffocation, leaned farther than ever out of the window, trying tocatch one breath of air, when to her astonishment she now perceived thefigure of a man descending from the window of a house far to the left,and having planted his foot on a narrow ledge of stone, which ran alongall the buildings as an architectural ornament, he pressed his handsfirmly against the wall, to preserve his balance, and, with a degree ofskill and intrepidity scarcely to be credited, rapidly traversed thatshelf towards the place where she stood, carrying one end of a rope inhis hand, the other extremity of which had been already fixed to thewindow from which he came out.

  "Marion! dear Marion!" cried the voice of Richard Granville, which evenat this awful moment thrilled to her heart with deep emotion, "we mustlive or die together. Trust yourself to me! Here is a firm footing. Tryit! At the worst you cannot be in greater danger than now."

  While yet speaking, he had securely fixed the rope to the window-frame,thus forming a temporary balustrade, and after carefully assisting herout, he slowly led Marion with one hand on the rope, and her face tothe wall, safely towards a house as yet untouched by the fire.

  A low, whispering murmur of intense interest arose among thespectators, when they saw hopes of her being preserved, but not a voicewas raised till they perceived her safe, when a deafening cheer burstfrom the spectators, which rang through every ear like a trumpet. Againand again it resounded, louder and louder still, but Marion heard itnot, for no sooner was she out of danger, than, with a cry ofthankfulness, she rushed into the expanded arms of Sir Arthur, andfainted.

  When Marion recovered to consciousness, her first evidence of returninglife, was the deep blush with which she extended her hand to Mr.Granville. Tears now streamed from the blinded eyes of Sir Arthur,while he spoke to her with every term of affectionate endearment,saying, in a voice that yet quivered with emotion--

  "My child! my dear Marion! I thank God that your life, young and fullof hope, has not been sacrificed to keep my grey hairs a few hourslonger from the grave. Would that I were able to thank you as youdeserve."

  "Never thank me for anything, dear uncle Arthur. I owe you more than myexistence, for I owe you, under Providence, all the happy days I haveever known in it, and long, long, may I be able to show you my gratefulaffection."

  "My very dear girl, aged as I am, and shattered now by this night'salarms, I have little more hold of life than of the gale that blowsalong the ocean, but existence would yet be precious to me, if I couldonly live to see my Marion as happy as she merits."

  "Already I am!" replied Marion, affectionately embracing her uncle,while a torrent of joyous, agitated tears rushed into her eyes. "I amtoo happy, dear uncle Arthur! You are saved, we are restored to all welove, and my life is doubly precious to me, preserved by the generouscourage of--of----"

  "Of one whose first earthly wish is to render it happy," said Mr.Granville, warmly. "I trust that for many long years we shall testifytogether our gratitude to God for the mercies of this night."

  A smile and a tear struggled hard for the mastery in Marion's downcastcountenance, while Richard continued to speak with confidence and hopeof the happy future, trusting that their engagement, though unavoidablypostponed, could not be long delayed, and that if Clara recovered in amore favorable climate, to which she must set out the next evening, hemight speedily return, to resume his duties and occupations, with newmotives of hope, while Sir Arthur expressed, in brief and powerfullanguage, his fervent wish that nothing might interfere with a prospectwhich secured the happiness of his beloved Marion.

  "Yet," observed Sir Arthur, next morning, when Mr. Granville called totake leave, "I dislike long engagements, and never would recommend one.If you both remain constant, it is unnecessary, and if either of youchange, it would be little worth to obtain from a sense of honor whatshould only spring from affection."

  "There is nothing to fear on that score," replied Mr. Granville,exchanging a smile with Marion. "We are most apt in general to doubtwhere we have most at stake, but I have lately become almostpresumptuously confident. I would not wish, Sir Arthur, that Marionshould feel engaged one hour after she ceased to love me more than shecould love any other, or if there were any man on earth who could valueher more, and make her happier. One thing I ask of you, dear Marion,and only one," added he, his eyes flashing with animation--"That tillwe meet again, nothing shall make you doubt my unalterable affection;and in asking this, I ask only what I intend in return towards you,that our mutual confidence may be for ever unbroken, from the firsthour we met."

  "To trust you once is to trust you for ever," answered she, in a low,scarcely audible voice. "All my happiness in life depends on one, who,I am certain, never will change."

  "Then, as surely as day follows night, I hope our present parting shallbe followed by a happy re-union; and months will seem like hours, tillI return to claim you as my own, till I once more hear your voice, andtill this hand is again clasped in mine."

  Marion listened with a quivering smile on her lip, while a teartrembled in her eye. For a moment, the blood forsook her cheek, andreturned again in rushing torrents over her whole countenance, whilethe eloquence of the heart was in her eyes, though she attempted not toreply; and Mr. Granville continued, in accents of the deepesttenderness,--

  "It grieves me more and more every day to think of leaving you, but myduty to Clara must not be postponed any longer. Her strength isgradually diminishing, and though she does not idly or selfishlyindulge her feelings, yet here, above all places, she seems leastlikely to forget a sorrow, which is, I trust, not incurable. We, whoare Christians, know that there is some good purpose in her affliction,and that the lightest straw which casts its balance into our lot, isordained by the infinite power, and the infinite goodness of One whocannot err."

  "Yes," replied Marion. "In going through life, I feel myself reading abook by the best of all authors. Many of the incidents, as we advance,surprise and disappoint us; but, knowing that the whole is on a planwhich could not be improved, we feel certain that all shall turn outright and best in the end."

  "It is a conviction such as you describe, Marion, which allays thetorturing and almost feverish anxiety I should otherwise sufferrespecting those around whom my warmest affections are kindled,"observed Mr. Granville. "Religion is indeed the best of all anodynesfor pain of every kind; otherwise, who can tell how greatly I shouldhave suffered in our sorrowful uncertainty respecting Clara's recovery,and in leaving you, my Marion, to whom I am now bound by every tie thatcan unite heart to heart. I will not,--I cannot say, farewell; but letus live in hope of better days to come."

  Mr. Granville at length took leave; and, as he hurried for the lasttime across the common, Marion leaned against the window, and followedhim with her eyes till he vanished out of sight; while Sir Arthur'scountenance shewed that his kind heart was full of anxiety and sorrow;for he had seen many vicissitudes in human life and human attachment,therefore he trembled for the possibility of sorrow hereafter, to onewhom he loved with all the unbounded warmth of his nature.

  Marion closed her eyes that night with the pleasing conviction, thatthe world contained not a happier being than herself. She feltconscious how much Mr. Granville had elevated her mind by hisconversation, what a treasure of interesting thoughts and pleasinghopes he had left her; and, while following him in imagination throughevery mile of his journey, and sadly counting the many days that mustintervene till they could meet again, she resolutely turned her mindtowards all the pursuits and occupations calculated to render herworthy of Richard Granville, when he returned to claim her as thepartner and companion of his future existence.

  "Discerning mortal! do thou serve the will Of time's Eternal Master, and that peace Which the world wants, shall be to thee confirm'd."