Sir Alfred was behind his wife, when suddenly Edith gave a loud cry, and rushed downstairs again before Sarah had time to see what had happened.

Sir Alfred flung open the door and demanded an explanation of this singular conduct, when again a cry was heard, and this time it was clearly that of "fire." Sir Alfred, grasping the situation in a minute, bade his wife fly down to the bedroom, off the drawing-room, rouse their two boys, who slept there, and tell the women-servants to leave the house instantly, as he already judged the fire to be of considerable dimensions. He, meanwhile, would rush upstairs to fetch Charlie, who slept in the nursery.

Sir Alfred very soon found this to be utterly impossible, as when he opened the door he was met by volumes of smoke, and found the nursery to be one ma.s.s of flames. In a minute all was confusion, men-servants rushing about trying to save what valuables they could from the bedrooms, which were still untouched. The inmates were now a.s.sembled in front of the house, gazing horror-struck at the flames, as they illumined the darkness and filled the upper windows with their glare. Of course the whole neighbourhood was roused, and the wildest excitement prevailed.

The policemen were shouting directions, which were as far as possible obeyed, and the suspense was at last broken by the cry of, "Out of the way; here come the fire engines." The horses dashed up, panting and foaming, and all was instantly discipline and order, the walls in a minute were swarming with firemen, and water was flooding the street.

But who can describe the feelings of Sir Alfred, who dared not tell his wife of his unsuccessful attempt to rescue Charlie. Hardly master of his senses, he rushed madly from room to room in the vain hopes of discovering the child, until with difficulty, for the whole staircase was now rapidly becoming one ma.s.s of flames, he escaped into the street.

Suddenly there was a universal murmur, and a voice shouted out, "Hold on, miss. Don't look down; we'll get you."

These words were addressed to Sarah, who had suddenly appeared on the drawing-room balcony, with Charlie peacefully sleeping in her arms.

Suddenly he awoke and began to cry, but poor Sarah was in no state of mind to comfort him. What ages it seemed! How slowly help came towards her, and how very heavy Charlie was getting!

Her brain seemed reeling, and her thoughts surged up, reproaching her for many a thing she had never thought twice about.

She uttered a prayer for help, and clenched her teeth, determined to hold out till relief came; and relief came but slowly. At last, when she felt it impossible to hold this heavy burden any longer, a man's voice called out to her, "Let him down, miss; it's all right now." But Sarah would not let Charlie out of her arms, fearing the effects which the awful sight of the flames might have on his already highly excitable brain; so she clutched him tighter, and the only thing to be done was to lift them over the balcony down together.

The crowd--for where is there ever a greater crowd than near a fire?--cheered loudly; but Sarah had fainted away, and never heard how heartily it sympathized.

Sir Alfred, who had gazed up horror-struck at the brave girl, was jealously holding the boy in his arms, evidently looking for the marks of fire which he was certain must be upon him. Charlie was, however, quite unhurt, and after giving him to a friend to hold, he knelt down by Sarah, who was still insensible, and began trying to restore her. A neighbour offered to take her into their house, and gratefully accepting this kindness, Sir Alfred and a fireman carried her indoors.

The fire was, by now, gradually getting under control, and it only remained to house the inmates, who, having fortunately not gone to bed, were still in their everyday clothes, Lady James and her little one being the only exceptions. Everybody was anxious to do their best for the James family, who were great favourites with all who knew them, and, by half-past one, all were settled somewhere for the night.

Now we must go back to the origin of the fire.

Master Charlie, "Baby Charlie," as he was called, being the youngest, had determined to have a little fun; so, after dinner was served, and his nurse was safely downstairs at her supper, he got out of bed, lit a candle, and began reading a book his father had just given him, which was very exciting. Curiously enough he came to a part of the book where there had also been a dinner-party, and the children of the house had gone down to dessert. Charlie began thinking it was rather hard luck he had not been allowed to see something of the party, and he wondered in his little brain whether he could not manage it, so he put the candle and the book on the floor near the table, as he knew he was doing wrong, and did not want them to be seen, and crept stealthily downstairs.

He found to his surprise that the drawing-room door was open, and the room itself was empty, as Sir Alfred and Lady James, whose guests had just left, were playing a game of billiards in the billiard-room, so as he had no idea how late, or how early it was, he went behind a screen near the balcony window and sat down to wait. But it was in reality about eleven, all the ladies had left, and the servants were very busy downstairs. As it was long past Charlie's bedtime he fell soundly asleep. Now, the nurse, who had only been a short time in Lady James's family, was most unscrupulous, and when she came down for her supper, she found it so much more amusing than sitting alone in the nursery, that, trusting Charlie was sound asleep, she remained downstairs chatting quite happily with the servants. The fire had now been smouldering some time, and had been caused by the candle falling out of the candlestick on to the open book, which blazed up in a few minutes, and quickly set the tablecloth alight. Edith and Sarah were the first to go upstairs and to discover the flames. Sarah at once thought of the stone staircase which led up to Charlie's room, and which could not catch fire; but she had scarcely reached the top floor, when she saw the walls of the night nursery fall in, and, through a rift in the flames, saw, to her horror, that Charlie's bed was empty. Thinking that the child had got frightened by the flames, and had probably strayed into some of the lower rooms, she searched carefully into every cupboard and corner of the bedrooms and dressing-rooms. But all this took a long time, and the flames were gaining rapidly upon her. Sarah soon remembered that the stone staircase ended on the drawing-room floor, being continued in wood, which had already caught fire from the flames of the front staircase. She was still searching frantically in Lady James's boudoir, which was next to the drawing-room, for Charlie, when she saw, to her horror, that all exit from downstairs was now impossible. She bethought herself of the drawing-room balcony, which was of stone, and in opening the window which led on to it, she saw, to her mingled horror and relief, the form of little Charlie peacefully sleeping behind the big screen. Her thankfulness can better be imagined than described, and seizing the child in her arms she ran out, thankful to get in the air and to leave the suffocating rooms, now filled with smoke, behind her.

Poor Sarah was very ill for a week, but in reality it was more the shock which had upset her than the actual burns, although she had several rather bad ones on her arms. However, after these had been carefully dressed with lint and croton oil, she felt fairly like herself again.

Poor Lady James had suffered from the disaster terribly, and was obliged to go abroad for her health, which the doctor feared would only with great difficulty be re-established; so one day Sir Alfred sent for Sarah to come to his study, and when she had arrived, he began by telling her how unutterably grateful they were to her, and little Charlie, who was close at hand, thanked her also in his pretty childish manner. Sir Alfred then went on to say how sorry they all were to lose her, but as it was impossible to take her abroad with them she must look out for another place. Here poor Sarah, who had been very happy in their service, completely broke down. Sir Alfred soothed her as best he could, and a.s.sured her that their grat.i.tude was much too great ever to allow them to forget her. He also gave her a purse with fifty pounds in it, forty of which he begged her to put at once into the savings bank, and he also promised to add one pound to it every Christmas.

Sarah was surprised and greatly overcome at this great generosity and grat.i.tude, saying that anybody else would have done the same in her place. She said good-bye to her mistress, whom she felt very sorry to see looking so ill, took a still sadder leave of her fellow-servants, and went for a few days to her father's home.

She soon received a letter from Lady James telling her that she had a friend who was going to Ireland, and being badly in want of a kitchen-maid had promised to take Sarah if she did not mind going so far off. Of course Sarah was only too delighted to go anywhere, not liking to be idle longer than was necessary, and really she had been so happy in her experience of service that she was quite anxious to begin work again. She went to see Mrs. Sinclair, who was a bright fashionable lady, but very unlike Lady James. She quite approved of Sarah, not really troubling herself much as to her character or abilities, so it was decided that they should start in two days.

Sarah wrote a long letter to d.i.c.k, telling him all about her adventures and forthcoming journey; but, not knowing what her address would be, she was unable to say where he should write to her.

The two days pa.s.sed quickly, and Sarah went to Mrs. Sinclair's London house to make acquaintance with her fellow-servants, with whom she was to go over to Ireland immediately. She had not travelled much by train before, so the whole sensation was new to her, and when they arrived in the evening at Fleetwood, her excitement was very great. The luggage was all put on board, together with the young lady's bicycle, and she had a little time to look about her.

The sea was very rough, and Sarah, who had never been on it before, thought the waves looked mountains high. Sailors were rushing to and fro, and when Sarah heard the funnel blow out its signal of departure, she did not quite understand what had occurred or what was going to happen; but she soon felt the steamer rolling and pitching, and, in spite of the other servants trying to persuade her to go and lie down, Sarah stayed on deck much too excited to think of feeling ill. She sat down under cover, and presently one of the sailors came up to her. He looked very odd to her eyes, all done up in his oil-skins and huge boots, but he also looked so very jolly that she thought he must be nice. He asked her if she would like a rug; and Sarah, who was beginning to feel very cold, accepted his offer gladly. Away he staggered, for by this time the moon looked as if she was playing hide and seek with the ship, now looking full at Sarah and then shyly hiding her round face again. Back came the sailor quickly with a nice warm rug, and after having tucked Sarah up all round in it, he sat down and began to talk to her. Now, she did not quite like this, but as he had been so kind she could not exactly tell him to go, so they talked away for a good long time, and Sarah began telling Mike, as she found out his name to be, all about her first place, and how she was going to Ireland to begin life in another situation. Mike was very interested, and now became so friendly with her that she at last said she must go below, as she was beginning to feel rather ill. Mike would not believe this, and tried hard to prevent her; but Sarah was a very determined little person and would have her own way, so she went downstairs to join the other servants, but they were all suffering so much that she was obliged to look at a paper and not talk.

At last they arrived at Belfast, and Sarah was very glad, as she thought the cabin so stuffy, and Mike having been so tiresome, Sarah had not liked to go up on deck again, the consequence being that her head was aching violently. After landing, they all went to the Northern Counties Hotel, where a good breakfast was ordered, consisting of fresh herrings, coffee, eggs, fadge and honey. Sarah, who sat next the window, could hardly take her eyes off the street, filled as it was with a motley crowd of small fish carts, ragged newspaper boys, and factory girls hurrying to their work, with their bright shawls pinned carelessly over their heads, and their short skirts and bare feet all looking very different to any London crowd she had ever seen. Soon the time arrived to start for Ballycastle, which was their destination, and after two hours' journey by train they arrived.

The luggage was left at the station, where it would be well guarded till called for, and the servants all got up on outside jaunting cars, which were waiting for them. Sarah thought these cars looked very odd, as there was a kind of long box in the middle and two seats on either side, which, if you were a novice, were apt to jog you off. She mounted with some difficulty, and held on very tight. They drove at a very great pace, and, as Sarah thought, very recklessly round the corners. After a time, however, she quite enjoyed the motion, and was much surprised to see all the children with their feet quite bare, generally driving a fat pig or two; and when she, by chance, looked into the cabins and saw pigs and fowls happily making themselves quite at home, her astonishment knew no bounds, but on asking the other servants, she was told this was quite usual, and n.o.body thought it even extraordinary.

They pa.s.sed a great many bogs on their way, and Sarah had no idea what these were till she was told, and even then she thought they looked very dull and dirty, and did not understand how people could use the peat, which was piled up in large stacks to keep it dry, in any way. At last they turned in at the avenue gate, and came up to a very pretty house which was covered with creepers, the lawn in front being bright with flower-beds, where ma.s.ses of geraniums, begonias, mignonette, etc., were blooming, as flowers only can bloom on Irish soil. Behind the lawn was a long row of tall scarlet pokers, "tritomas," as the footman was very proud of calling them when he told Sarah that in October he had counted as many as four or five thousand in bloom. The green fields and trees behind making a most beautiful background.

Of course, during the next few days there was a great deal to do, and Sarah had not only her kitchen work, but was also asked to help the housemaid, who was a cheerful Irish girl, whose peculiar brogue amused her very much. Sarah's mistress was most of the time lying on a sofa in the drawing-room, as she still felt the effects of the journey from London, and her only daughter was bicycling all over the country visiting her various friends. Any spare time that Sarah had she spent in exploring the beautiful neighbourhood of Ballycastle, which lies near the sea.

Several months pa.s.sed, during which time Sarah was very happy in her beautiful home; she wrote to d.i.c.k every fortnight, and told him how she was getting on, and he answered her letters regularly. One day he wrote saying that he had a great piece of news to tell her, which was, that his master had given him a place as upper servant, and had also raised his wages. His letter was written in great spirits, and Sarah only felt sorry she was not on the spot to tell him at once how delighted she felt. His letter went on to say that his master was thinking of paying some shooting visits in the north of Ireland, and d.i.c.k hoped they might meet, as he was to be valet for the occasion. Sarah was greatly excited at this prospect, and could only relieve her feelings by taking a good walk along the headlands. Sarah was one of those people who cannot do without sympathy, and she knew that great joy likes to be shared to make it complete, therefore she felt very sad at not being able to talk over every detail of this great excitement with d.i.c.k, as a letter seemed to her quite inadequate for the occasion.

Mrs. and Miss Sinclair were going to pay a few visits in the country, and had told the housekeeper to give the servants a day's outing in Belfast. After their departure the house was very quiet, and there was naturally not much work to do, but Sarah felt that with such a beautiful garden and such perfect scenery, she could never be dull.

One morning she went down to bathe, a thing she had never done before; at first she would only let the water ripple over her feet, then come up to her knees, which she thought very brave of her, but Peggy, the housemaid, who was also there, laughed so heartily, that she ventured quite in, and enjoyed herself so much that she determined to repeat the operation whenever she had time.

At last the housekeeper announced in a very grand manner that in two days the servants might go to Belfast for their trip. They were all very much pleased, and the maids busied themselves in mending their dresses and putting new ribbons on their hats. They were determined to enjoy themselves, and knew that a smart appearance would greatly help this object. The day soon came, and at an early hour everybody was a.s.sembled in the hall waiting for the cars which Mrs. Sinclair had kindly ordered for them. This time Sarah had no difficulty in seating herself, and enjoyed the drive in the fresh morning air and lovely sunshine very much.

Arrived at the station, they only just had time to take their tickets and jump into their places, when the train was off, they laughed a great deal, and were all very light-hearted when Belfast was reached. At first they were not sure what they would do, but Sarah unconsciously solved the difficulty by exclaiming, "Oh, I _am_ hungry!" so they all trooped off for breakfast at an inexpensive hotel.

Mrs. Sinclair had given the footman a letter to the manager of a flax mill, and they thought they would go there after they had finished their meal. The manager sent his foreman to show them over the mill, and Sarah had as much as she could do to hear his explanation of the various processes used for spinning flax. The noise was terrible, and quite deafened Sarah, who could not help feeling very thankful that she was not one of the poor factory girls, whose pallid faces predicted an early death. She said something about this to Peggy, who told her that they seldom lived long, as the air being full of dust atoms, which they inhaled all day, gradually affected their lungs. Sarah came away feeling very sad, but she had not much time to think, as she was again hurried on to some new sight.

They spent a very happy day, and ended up with a good tea of scones, oat-cake, bread and b.u.t.ter and jam.

At the station they still had half an hour to wait for the train, so they sat down on one of the benches and talked. Suddenly Sarah uttered a half cry, but on seeing Peggy looking at her, she quickly gained her composure. Near a train which had just arrived, stood two girls and a man. The man was very like d.i.c.k, and as he half turned round, Sarah saw that it was really he. One of the girls, who was very pretty, was talking to him with her hand on his arm, and Sarah thought he looked at her very affectionately. They chatted and laughed for some little time till the guard came round for the tickets, then the pretty girl, to Sarah's horror, gave d.i.c.k a kiss which he seemed fully to expect, and she jumped into the train, waving her handkerchief repeatedly to him.

d.i.c.k and his companion now left the station, and, pa.s.sing close to Sarah, she heard her say, "My! how fond you two are of each other, she certainly is very pretty, just your style." Sarah meanwhile was choking with rage, hardly believing her ears, and feeling beside herself with jealousy.

In a few minutes she asked Peggy to take a turn outside the station, as they still had ten minutes before their train left. Sarah did not feel inclined to talk, and Peggy, being Irish, was only too glad to use this opportunity of letting her tongue run on. After they had gone some little distance they retraced their steps, when Sarah suddenly saw d.i.c.k and his friend, who had left the station by another way, coming towards them. He saw her some distance off, and quickened his steps, when, to his astonishment, Sarah blankly looked at him, and, half bowing, pa.s.sed over to the other side of the road. d.i.c.k was dumb with surprise, and would have followed her, but seeing that she was determined to avoid him, he changed his mind.

Now, d.i.c.k had no idea that Sarah had been in the station, and could not imagine what had happened, but he expected some letter of explanation, and thought he would wait.

Sarah meanwhile had taken a corner seat in the train, and was tormenting herself with all sorts of uncomfortable thoughts.

The return journey was very different for the whole party from the morning one, the others finding her very much of a wet blanket. Arrived home, she felt as miserable as possible, and did not know what to do to get at the rights of the matter.

Meanwhile d.i.c.k, who was very proud, determined to wait for Sarah's explanation, and she had made up her mind to act in the same way, so the estrangement seemed likely to go on indefinitely.

"Oh, Peggy," said Sarah one day, "what a sweetly pretty dress you are making! When are you going to wear it? Why, I shan't know you when you have it on."

"Oh," said Peggy, "this is not for myself, it is for a great friend, and, as she is very pretty, sure I am making her a pretty dress for Christmas."

The gown in question was pale blue, trimmed with black ribbons, and the sleeves were all tucked, so Sarah might well admire it.

"Well," she asked, "what is this beauty's name? Do tell me."

"No," said Peggy, "I shan't; it's a secret, and you might tell, as I believe you know her brother."

"Oh, I don't know anybody," cried Sarah, "as for a man, I only know one."

"Well, then," said Peggy, "I'll tell you; it is Maggie Bream, and she is in service near Belfast."

"What!" cried Sarah, "is her name Bream?"

"Well, and why shouldn't it be? I suppose you've no objection?"