Fernley House Part 16

"Lord help her then!" said the parlor-maid. "If she's in the house now, she's as good as dead, and worse, too. The stairs has fallen in; Thomas seen 'em fall. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what an awful time!"

"Be still, Eliza!" said the cook. "Where's Jenny? She was in the sewing-room, next to Miss Wolfe's; maybe she'd know something. Who saw Jenny since we come out? Good Lord, where is the child? I thought she come with me."

"Oh, Jenny's all right!" moaned Eliza. "She'll have gone straight home.

She was going home to spend the night anyway, Mary; don't be scaring us worse. It's bad enough to lose Miss Wolfe, poor young lady, and she so bold and daring!"

"_Hold your tongue!_" said Peggy. "Listen to me, girls, and answer plainly, and not all at once like a flock of foolish sheep. Did any one see Miss Wolfe go into the house?"

"No, miss, no; we see her go with Mrs. Peyton, and we never thought but she was all right."

"She may not be there after all!" said Peggy. "Her room is on the other side, isn't it, Margaret? Come on!"

They ran round to the other side of the house. This was apparently still untouched, though the fiery tongues came darting over the rooftree every now and then, hissing and lapping, and the roof itself was covered with sparks and great patches of burning tinder, fragments of the costly stuffs and tissues that the house-owner had so dearly prized. The windows were closed and silent, but all was bright as day in the red glare of the fire.

"Call, Peggy!" whispered Margaret. "I have no voice."

Even as she spoke, a window in the second story was thrown up, and there stood Grace herself, very pale, but quiet as usual.

"There's a young woman faint here," she said. "Too much smoke. The stairs are gone. Is there a ladder, Peggy? Ah, rope! Much better. Clever child! When I say three--throw!"

Oh, the good days on the Western farm, when little Peggy, on her rough pony, scampered here and there, la.s.soing the sheep and calves, and getting well scolded in consequence! Oh, the other good days at school, where nerve and muscle learned to follow the quick eye, so that thought and action seemed to flash together!

The rope hissed upward like a flying snake, but a cloud of smoke drove past the window, and the outstretched hands missed it. Again it flew, and this time it was caught, drawn up, and knotted tight inside the window.

"Now if I had a ladder!" muttered Peggy.

"I saw one," cried Margaret; "I am sure I did. Wait!"

She flew off, and returned followed by a boy with a ladder. It proved short by several feet.

"Oh, what shall we do!" cried Margaret.

"Hold the ladder steady!" said Peggy. "She'll see to that end, and I can manage this. Hold it!"

Margaret and the boy grasped the ladder; Peggy ran up it, and stood on the top rung, holding the lower end of the rope.

"All ready, Goat!" she called.

"Ay, ay!" said the quiet voice within. "Coming, Innocent!"

The women had followed Margaret and Peggy, and now a cry broke from them.

"She's got her!"

"'Tis Jenny! She was in there all the time!"

"She's dead!"

"She's not; she's living, I see her move. Oh, Mother of Mercy, they'll both be killed before their own eyes!"

What was Grace doing? The form she held in her arms was that of a slight girl of fifteen or so. She was knotting something round her, under arms and over breast; something half sling, half rope; towels, perhaps, tied strongly together. Now she brought the ends over her own shoulders, bending forward.

"Now, Peggy!"

"Now!"

With the unconscious child bound to her back, Grace leaned out and grasped the rope; another moment and she was swinging on it, clinging with hands and feet, the old school way.

Margaret covered her face with her hand and prayed. Peggy, steadying the rope with one hand, held out the other, and waited.

Down, hand over hand! Slender hands, to bear the double burden. Delicate shoulders, to carry the dead weight that hangs on them. Are they elastic steel, those fingers that grip the rope, never slipping, never relaxing their hold?

Down, hand over hand! the hands are bleeding now; no matter! the white dress is black with smoke, and blood drips on it here and there; what of that? it is nearly over.

"Now?" Peggy asked, quietly.

"Now!"

Steadying herself, Peggy left the rope, and received the burden in her arms. Grace, holding the rope with one hand, with the other loosed the knot, and laid the limp arms over Peggy's neck.

"All right?" she said.

"All right!"

"_Ainsi long!_" and as Peggy carefully slowly descended the ladder, Grace turned and began quickly and steadily to climb the rope again.

"Grace! Grace!" cried Margaret. "For G.o.d's sake, what are you about?

Come down! There is no time to lose; come down!"

"And behold, all is vanity!" said Grace; and she disappeared inside the burning house.

But Margaret could bear no more. She helped to take the senseless girl from Peggy's arms and lay her on the gra.s.s; then the world seemed to slip from her, and she dropped quietly with her head on Jenny's shoulder.

CHAPTER XV.

JEWELS: AND AN AWAKENING

"Are you better?" said Gerald. "Are you truly better, Miss Margaret? I am going to drown myself anyhow in the first bucket I find, and if you don't feel better I shall make it a dipper, and that would be so inconvenient, don't you know?"

Margaret looked at him, only half hearing what he said.

"Yes, I am better; I am very well, thank you. What happened? Did I faint?"

"Yes! you fainted, just as we came up. They wanted to pour water over you, but I always think it's such a shame, in books, to spoil their clothes, and you have such pretty clothes. So I wouldn't let them. It wasn't Peggy, it was a lot of fool cooks and things."