"Nothing. I'm coming with you!" I said, and he squeezed my hand against his side.

"Thank you, dear, but I'm going a long round. I won't be back until lunch. Better not leave your friends for so long."

"Vere is with them, father. I want to come."

"What's the matter? Not had a quarrel, have you? Has Vere been--"

"No, no, she hasn't! _Nothing_ is the matter, except that I want you, and n.o.body else. Oh, father, don't be so horribly kind! Scold me--call me a selfish wretch! I know I have neglected you, dear. There was always something to do, and I--forgot, but really and truly I remembered all the time. It isn't nonsense, father, it's true. Can you understand?"

"I've been nineteen myself, Babs; I understand. Don't worry, darling.

I missed you, but I was glad that you were happy, and I knew your heart was in the right place. We won't say anything more about it, but have a jolly walk and enjoy ourselves."

Oh, it is good to have someone who understands! If he had scolded or been reproachful I should have felt inclined to make excuses, but when he was so sweet and good I just loved him with all my heart, and prayed to be a better daughter to him all my life.

We had lovely walks after that, and on the third morning we met Will Dudley, and once again he and I sat on a log waiting for father while he interviewed a tenant. My heart quite thumped with agitation as I thought that now was the time to lead the conversation skilfully round to Vere, and insinuate delicately that she had a mania for making people fall in love with her, and that it didn't always mean as much as it seemed when she was sweet and gushing. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to do, but you can't be a guardian angel without a little trouble.

"So you have torn yourself away from your friends this morning," he said at last. "How is it that you were allowed to escape? What is the special campaign for killing time to-day, if one may ask?"

"You may ask, but it's rude to be sarcastic. You are often lazy yourself, though in a different fashion. You love to lie on your back on the gra.s.s and do nothing but browse and stare up at the sky. You have told me so many times."

"Ah, but what of my thoughts? Under a semblance of ease I am in reality working out the most abstruse problems. I did not mean to be sarcastic; I inquired in all seriousness how your valuable company could be spared."

"For the best of all reasons--because n.o.body wanted it! Captain Grantly wants Lady Mary, Lady Mary wants Captain Grantly. Miss Talbot wants someone she can't get, but it doesn't happen to be me; the rest all want Vere, and have no thought for anyone else. Men always do want to be with Vere. Wherever she goes they fall in love with her and follow her about. She is so lovely, and she--she likes to be liked. Everyone says she is so charming and irresistible--they have told her so since she was a child--and she likes to prove that it was true. If--if anyone seems to like anyone else better it--sort of--worries her, and makes her feel neglected."

"I see."

"Then, of course, she is extra specially nice, and seems to be more interested in him than anyone else."

"Pleasant for him!"

"It is, for a time. But if he trusted to it and believed that she was really in earnest, he might get to care himself, and then, when he found out, he would be disappointed."

"Naturally so."

"It has happened like that before, several times, and sometimes there are other people to be considered--I mean there might be another girl whom the man had liked before, and when he had given her up, and found that-that--"

"That he had given up the substance and grasped the shadow--"

"Yes; then, of course, they would both be miserable, and it would be worse than ever."

"Naturally it would be."

He spoke in the same cool, half-jeering tone, then suddenly turned round and bent his head down to mine, staring at me with bright grey eyes.

"Why not be honest, Babs, and not beat about the bush? You think that my peace is threatened and want to warn me of it, isn't that it, now?

You are my very good friend, and I am grateful for your interest. Did you think I was in danger?"

"Sometimes--once or twice! Don't be angry. I know you would be true and loyal, but sometimes--I saw you watching her--"

"She is very lovely, Babs; the loveliest woman I have ever seen. There was some excuse for that."

"I know, I feel it myself, and it was just because I could understand a little that I spoke. I thought quite likely that you might be angry at first, but it was better that you should be that than wretched in the end."

"Quite so; but I am not angry at all, only very grateful for your bravery in tackling a difficult subject. I have a pretty good opinion of myself, but I am only a man, and other men have imagined themselves secure and found out their mistake before now. Forewarned is forearmed.

Thank you for the warning," and he smiled at me with a sudden flash of the eyes which left me hot and breathless.

Was I in time? Had he really begun to care for Vere so soon as this? I longed to say more, but dared not. All my courage had gone, and I was thankful when father came out of the cottage and put an end to our _tete-a-tete_.

I thought there would be a difference after this, but there wasn't--not a bit. When Will came to the house he was as nice as ever to Vere, and seemed quite willing to be monopolised as much as she liked. If he avoided anyone it was me, and I was not a bit surprised. People may say what they like, but they do bear you a grudge for giving them good advice. I sat in a corner and made cynical reflections to myself, and n.o.body took any notice of me, and I felt more cynical than ever, and went to my bedroom and banged about the furniture to relieve my feelings.

Vere came into my room soon after, and stood by the window talking while I brushed my hair. The blind was up, for it was moonlight and I hate to shut it out. Her dress was of some soft silvery stuff, and, standing there in the pale blue light, she looked oh, so lovely, more like a fairy than a human creature! I am so glad I admired her then; I'm glad I told her that I did; I'm glad, glad, glad that I was nice and loving as a sister ought to be, and that we kissed and put our arms round each other when we said good night.

"Sleep well, little girl, you look tired. We can't let you lose your bonny colour," she said, in her, pretty caressing way; n.o.body can be as sweet as Vere when she likes.

I was tired, but I sat by the window for quite a long time after she left, thinking, thinking, thinking. I can't tell what I thought exactly, so many things pa.s.sed through my head, and when I said my prayers I hardly said any words at all; I just put down my head and trusted G.o.d to understand me better than I did myself. I had so much to make me happy, but I was not happy somehow. I had so much to make me content, yet there was something missing that made everything else seem blank. I wanted to be good, and such horrid, envious feelings rose up in my heart. In my dear little room, at my own dear little table, I asked G.o.d to help me, and to take care of me whatever happened.

And He did, but it was not in the way I expected.

At last the moon disappeared behind the clouds which had been gathering for some time, and I went to bed and fell fast asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, as I always do, no matter how agitated I am. I suppose it's being nineteen and in such good health. "How long I slept I cannot tell," as they say in ghost stories, but suddenly I woke up with a start and a sort of horrid feeling that something was wrong. The room felt close and heavy, and there was a curious noise coming from outside the door, a sort of buzzing, crackling noise. I didn't get up at once, for I felt stupid and heavy; it was a minute or two before I seemed really able to think, and then--oh, I shall never forget that moment!--I knew what it was. I felt it! I went cold all over, and my legs shook under me as I stepped on to the floor.

The air was thick, and it smelt. My door was the nearest to the staircase, and when I opened it a great cloud of smoke rolled in my face. For a moment it was all cloud and darkness, then a light shot up from below, and the crackling noise was repeated. It was true, quite true. The house was on fire, and already the staircase was ablaze!

CHAPTER NINE.

_August 16th_.

We used to wonder at school sometimes how we should behave if we suddenly found ourselves in a position of great danger. I always said I should scream and hide my face, and faint if I possibly could, but I am thankful to remember that, when it came to the point, I did nothing of the sort. My heart gave one big, sickening throb, and then I felt suddenly quite calm and cold and self-possessed, almost as if I didn't care. I went back into my room, put on my dressing-gown and slippers, took up a big bra.s.s bell which one of the girls had given me, and, shutting the door carefully behind me, ran along the corridor, ringing it as loudly as I could, and knocking at each door as I pa.s.sed. I didn't call out "Fire!"--it was too terrifying; besides, I knew the others would guess what was wrong as soon as they heard the bell and smelt the smoke, and, in less than two minutes, every door was open, and the occupants of the different rooms first peeped and then rushed out on to the landing in dressing-gowns and shawls, and all sorts of quaint- looking wraps. One light was always left burning all night long, so we could see each other, even when the smoke hid that other horrible lurid light, and it is wonderful how brave we all were on the whole. Mother came forward wrapped in her long blue gown, and found a chair for Madge Talbot, who was the only one who showed signs of breaking down, just as quietly and graciously as if she had been entertaining her in the drawing-room. Father and the men consulted rapidly together, and Vere put her arm round me, and leant on my shoulder. I could feel her trembling, but she shut her lips tight, and tried hard to smile encouragingly at poor Madge, and all the time the smoke grew thicker, and the horrid crackling louder and nearer.

"The drawing-room!" we heard father say. "The servants have been careless in putting out the lights, and something has smouldered and finally caught the curtains--that's the most probable explanation. If that is the case, I fear the back stairs will be impa.s.sable; they are even nearer than these."

He turned and ran quickly down the pa.s.sage, followed by Captain Grantly and Mr Nash. Mr Carstairs came and stood by Vere's side, as if he could not bear to leave her unprotected, and she looked up at him and smiled a white little smile, as if she were glad to have him there. A moment later the men came back, and, as father turned and closed the heavy oak door which divided one wing from another, we knew without asking that the other staircase was also cut off.

Madge began to sob hysterically, but father stopped her with a wave of his hand, and said sharply, addressing us all--

"The back staircase is impracticable, but if we keep our senses, there is no real danger to fear. I have rung the alarm bell, and the men will soon be round with ropes and ladders. The best thing you can do is to go back to your rooms, dress rapidly, and collect a few valuables which can be lowered from the window. You can have five minutes--no longer.

I will ring a bell at the end of that time, and we will all meet in my room, which is the centre position, and therefore the farthest from the fire. Now, girls, quick! There is no time to lose!"

We ran. Some time--in a long, long time to come--we shall laugh to think what curious costumes we made! It was just the first thing that came to hand. I was decently clothed in two minutes, seized a dressing- bag, put in my pearl necklace, a few odd trinkets, this diary, and the old Bible I have had since I was ten years old, and rushed along to mother's room to see if I could help.

She was putting on a long dark coat, and had a lace scarf tied over her hair. Even then, in the middle of the night, she looked dignified and beautiful, and her eyes melted in the tender way they have at great moments as she saw me.

"Ready, daughter?" she said smiling, and then came up and took me into her arms. "Good girl! Brave girl! We must help the others, Una. You and I have no time to be afraid."

"Thank you, mother darling!" I said, gratefully, for I had been, oh, terribly afraid, and it was just the best thing she could have said to calm me and give me courage; and, while we clung together, father came hurrying in. He hardly seemed to notice me, Babs, his pet daughter!--He looked only at mother, and spoke to her.

"Are you warm, Carina? Are you suitably dressed? You must have no train--nothing to make movement difficult. That's all right. Don't trust yourself to anyone but me, sweet-heart! I'll come to you in good time!"

"Yes, Boy, yes! I'll come with you," said mother softly.