Part 13 (2/2)

”I suppose not. Why should you be?” replied Phoebe, who was rather old and rather cross. ”If you mount the ladder that you will see against the wall, you will find a good bed when you are at the top of it.”

Oswald was about to remonstrate, but Edward held up his finger and no more was said.

As soon as they had finished their supper, Phoebe proposed that they should go to bed. It was late, and she would sit up no longer. Edward rose and went out, followed by Oswald, who had given up the keeper's house to the intendant and his daughter, and slept in the cottage of one of the rangers, about a quarter of a mile off. After some conversation, they shook hands and parted, as Edward intended returning very early the next morning, being anxious about old Jacob.

Edward went up the ladder into the loft. There was no door to shut out the wind, which blew piercingly cold and after a time he found himself so chilled that he could not sleep. He rose to see if he could not find some protection from the wind by getting more into a corner; for although Phoebe had told him that there was plenty of straw, it proved that there was very little indeed in the loft, barely enough to lie down upon. Edward, after a time, descended the ladder to walk in the yard, that by exercise he might recover the use of his limbs. At last, turning to and fro, he cast his eyes up to the window of the bedroom above the kitchen, where he perceived a light was still burning. He thought it was Phoebe, the maid, going to bed; and with no very gracious feelings toward her for having deprived him of his own night's rest, he was wis.h.i.+ng that she might have the toothache or something else to keep her awake, when suddenly through the white window curtain he perceived a broad light in the room-it increased every moment-and he saw the figure of a female rush past it, and attempt to open the window-the drawing of the curtains showed him that the room was on fire. A moment's thought, and he ran for the ladder by which he had ascended to the loft, and placed it against the window. The flames were less bright, and he could not see the female who had been at the window when lie went for the ladder. He ascended quickly, and burst open the cas.e.m.e.nt-the smoke poured out in such volumes that it neatly suffocated him, but he went in; and as soon as he was inside, he stumbled against the body of the person who had attempted to open the window, but who had fallen down senseless. As he raised the body, the fire, which had been smothered from want of air when all the windows and doors were closed, now burst out, and he was scorched before he could get on the ladder again, with the body in his arms; but he succeeded in getting it down safe. Perceiving that the clothes were on fire, he held them till they were extinguished, and then for the first time discovered that he had brought down the daughter of the intendant of the forest. There was no time to be lost, so Edward carried her into the stable and left her there, still insensible, upon the straw, in a spare stall, while he hastened to alarm the house. The watering-b.u.t.t for the horses was outside the stable; Edward caught up the pail, filled it, and hastening up the ladder, threw it into the room, and then descended for more.

By this time Edward's continual calls of ”Fire! fire!” had aroused the people of the house, and also of the cottages adjacent. Mr. Heatherstone came out half dressed, and with horror on his countenance. Phoebe followed screaming, and the other people now hastened from the cottages.

”Save her! my daughter is in the room!” exclaimed Mr. Heatherstone. ”Oh, save her, or let me do so!” cried the poor man, in agony; but the fire burst out of the window in such force, that any attempt would have been in vain.

”Oswald,” cried Edward to him, ”let the people pa.s.s the water up to me as fast as possible. They can do no good looking on.”

Oswald set the men to work, and Edward was now supplied with water so fast that the fire began to diminish. The window was now approachable, and a few more buckets enabled him to put one foot into the room, and then every moment the flames and smoke decreased.

Meanwhile it would be impossible to describe the agony of the intendant, who would have rushed up the ladder into the flames, had he not been held by some of the men. ”My daughter! my child!-burned-burned to death!” exclaimed he, clasping his hands.

At that moment a voice in the crowd called out, ”There were four burned at Arnwood!”

”G.o.d of Heaven!” exclaimed Mr. Heatherstone, falling down in a swoon, in which state he was carried to a neighboring cottage.

Meanwhile the supply of water enabled Edward to put out the fire altogether: the furniture of the room was burned, but the fire had extended no farther; and when Edward was satisfied that there was no more danger, he descended the ladder, and left it to others to see that all was safe. He then called Oswald to him, and desired that he would accompany him to the stable.

”Oh, sir,” replied Oswald, ”this is dreadful! and such a sweet young lady too.”

”She is safe and well,” replied Edward, ”I think so, at least. I brought her down the ladder, and put her in the stable before I attempted to put out the fire. See, there she is; she has not recovered yet from her swoon. Bring some water. She breathes! thank G.o.d! There, that will do, Oswald, she is recovering. Now let us cover her up in your cloak, and carry her to your cottage. We will recover her there.”

Oswald folded up the still unconscious girl in his cloak, and earned her away in his arms, followed by Edward.

As soon as they arrived at the cottage, the inmates of which were all busy at the keeper's lodge, they put her on a bed, and very soon restored her to consciousness.

”Where is my father?” cried Patience, as soon as she was sufficiently recovered.

”He is safe and well, miss,” replied Oswald.

”Is the house burned down?”

”No. The fire is all out again.”

”Who saved me? tell me.”

”Young Armitage, miss.”

”Who is he? oh, I recollect now; but I must go to my father. Where is he?”

”In the other cottage, miss.”

Patience attempted to stand, but found that she was too much exhausted, and she fell back again on the bed. ”I can't stand,” said she. ”Bring my father to me.”

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