Scenes and Characters, or, Eighteen Months at Beechcroft Part 37

'Well, let us see,' said Emily, 'those things are always amusing.'

It was an appeal to the 'truly charitable,' from the friends of the widow of an unbeneficed clergyman of the diocese, one of whose sons had, it was said, by the kindness of a deceased n.o.bleman, received the promise of an appointment in India, of which he was unable to avail himself for want of the funds needful for his outfit. This appeal was, it added, made without the knowledge of the afflicted lady, but further particulars might be learnt by application to E.

F., No. 5 West Street, Raynham.

'E. F. is plainly that bustling, little, old Miss Fitchett, who wrote to papa for some subscription,' said Emily. 'You know she is a regular beggar, always doing these kind of things, but I can never believe that Mrs. Aylmer would consent to appear in this manner.'

'Ah! but it says without her knowledge,' said Jane. 'Don't you remember Rotherwood's lamenting that they were forgotten?'

'Yes, it is shocking,' said Emily; 'the clergyman that married papa and mamma!'

'Ask Mr. Adam what he knows,' said Jane.

Emily accordingly applied to the bookseller, and learnt that Mrs.

Aylmer was indeed the person intended. 'Something must be done,'

said she, returning to Jane. 'Our name will be a help.'

'Speak to Aunt Rotherwood,' said Jane. 'Or suppose we apply to Miss Fitchett, we should have time to drive that way.'

'I am sure I shall not go to Miss Fitchett,' said Emily, 'she only longs for an excuse to visit us. What can you be thinking of? Lend me your pencil, Jenny, if you please.'

And Emily wrote down, 'Miss Mohun, 5 pounds,' and handed to the bookseller all that she possessed towards paying her just debts to Lilias. While she was writing, Jane had turned towards the window, and suddenly exclaiming, 'There is Ben! Oh! that gunpowder!' darted out of the shop. She had seen the groom on horseback, and the next moment she was asking breathlessly, 'Is it Maurice?'

'No, Miss Jane; but Miss Ada is badly burnt, and Master Maurice sent me to fetch Mr. Saunders.'

'How did it happen?'

'I can't say, Miss; the schoolroom has been on fire, and Master Maurice said the young ladies had got at the gunpowder.'

Emily had just arrived at the door, looking dreadfully pale, and followed by numerous kind offers of salts and gla.s.ses of water; but Jane, perceiving that at least she had strength to get into the carriage, refused them all, helped her in, and with instant decision, desired to be driven to the surgeon's. Emily obeyed like a child, and threw herself back in the carriage without a word; Jane trembled like an aspen leaf; but her higher spirit took the lead, and very sensibly she managed, stopping at Mr. Saunders's door to offer to take him to Beechcroft, and getting a gla.s.s of sal-volatile for Emily while they were waiting for him. His presence was a great relief, for Emily's natural courtesy made her exert herself, and thus warded off much that would have been very distressing.

In the meantime we will return to Beechcroft, where Emily's request respecting her letter had occasioned some discussion between the little girls, as they returned from a walk with Marianne. Phyllis thought that Emily meant them to wafer the letter, since they were under strict orders never to touch fire or candle; but Ada argued that they were to seal it, and that permission to light a candle was implied in the order. At last, Phyllis hoped the matter might be settled by asking Maurice to seal the letter, and meeting him at the front door, she began, in fortunately, with 'Please, Maurice--'

'I never listen to anything beginning with please,' said Maurice, who was in a great hurry, 'only don't touch my powder.'

Away he went, deaf to all his sister's shouts of 'Maurice, Maurice,'

and they went in, Ada not sorry to be unheard, as she was bent on the grand exploit of lighting a lucifer match, but Phyllis still pleading for the wafer. They found the schoolroom strewed with Maurice's preparations for fireworks, and Emily's letter on the chimney-piece.

'Let us take the letter downstairs, and put on a wafer,' said Phyllis. 'Won't you come, Ada?'

'No, the stamps are here, and so are the matches, I can do it easily.'

'But Ada, Ada, it would be naughty. Only wait, and I will show you such a pretty wafer that I know of in the drawing-room. I will run and fetch it.'

Phyllis went, and Ada stood a few moments in doubt, looking at the letter. The recollection of duty was not strong enough to balance the temptation, and she took up a match and drew it along the sandpaper. It did not light--a second pull, and the flame appeared more suddenly than she had expected, while at the same moment the lock of the door turned, and fancying it was Maurice, she started, and dropped the match. Phyllis opened the door, heard a loud explosion and a scream, saw a bright flash and a cloud of smoke. She started back, but the next moment again opened the door, and ran forward. Hannah rushed in at the same time, and caught up Ada, who had fallen to the ground. A light in the midst of the smoke made Phyllis turn, and she beheld the papers on the table on fire.

Maurice's powder-horn was in the midst, but the flames had not yet reached it, and, mindful of Claude's story, she sprung forward, caught it up, and dashed it through the window; she felt the glow of the fire upon her cheek, and stood still as if stunned, till Hannah carried Ada out of the room, and screamed to her to come away, and call Joseph. The table was now one sheet of flame, and Phyllis flew to the pantry, where she gave the summons in almost inaudible tones.

The servants hurried to the spot, and she was left alone and bewildered; she ran hither and thither in confusion, till she met Hannah, eagerly asking for Master Maurice, and saying that the surgeon must be instantly sent for, as Ada's face and neck were badly burnt. Phyllis ran down, calling Maurice, and at length met him at the front door, looking much frightened, and asking for Ada.

'Oh! Maurice, her face and neck are burnt, and badly. She does scream?'

'Did I not tell you not to meddle with the powder?' said Maurice.

'Indeed, I could not help it,' said Phyllis.

'Stuff and nonsense! It is very well that you have not killed Ada, and I think that would have made you sorry.'

Phyllis with difficulty mentioned Hannah's desire that a surgeon should be sent for: Maurice went to look for Ben, and she followed him. Then he began asking how she had done the mischief.

'I do not know,' said she, 'I do not much think I did it.'

'Mind, you can't humbug me. Did you not say that you touched the powder?'

'Yes, but--'

'No buts,' said Maurice, making the most of his brief authority. 'I hate false excuses. What were you doing when it exploded?'

'Coming into the room.'

'Oh! that accounts for it,' said Maurice, 'the slightest vibration causes an explosion of that sort of rocket, and of course it was your bouncing into the room! You have had a lesson against rushing about the house. Come, though, cheer up, Phyl, it is a bad business, but it might have been worse; you will know better next time. Don't cry, Phyl, I will explain to you all about the patent rocket.'

'But do you really think that I blew up Ada?'

'Blew up Ada! caused the powder to ignite. The inflammable matter--'

As he spoke he followed Phyllis to the nursery, and there was so much shocked, that he could no longer lord it over her, but shrinking back, shut himself up in his room, and bolted the door.

Nearly an hour pa.s.sed away before the arrival of Emily, Jane, and Mr.

Saunders. Phyllis ran down, and meeting them at the door, exclaimed, 'Oh! Emily, poor Ada! I am so sorry.'

The sisters hurried past her to the nursery, where Ada was lying on the bed, half undressed, and her face, neck, and arm such a spectacle that Emily turned away, ready to faint. Mr. Saunders was summoned, and Phyllis thrust out of the room. She sat down on the step of the stairs, resting her forehead on her knees, and trembling, listened to the sounds of voices, and the screams which now and then reached her ears. After a time she was startled by hearing herself called from the stairs BY BELOW a voice which she had not heard for many weeks, and springing up, saw Mr. Devereux leaning on the banisters. The great change in his appearance frightened her almost as much as the accident itself, and she stood looking at him without speaking.

'Phyllis,' said he, in a voice hoa.r.s.e with agitation, 'what is it?

tell me at once.'

She could not speak, and her wild and frightened air might well give him great alarm. She pointed to the nursery, and put her finger to her lips, and he, beckoning to her to follow him, went downstairs, and turning into the drawing-room, said, as he sank down upon the sofa, 'Now, Phyllis, what has happened?'

'The gunpowder--I made it go off, and it has burnt poor Ada's face!

Mr. Saunders is there, and she screams--'

Phyllis finding herself ready to roar, left off speaking, and laying her head on the table, burst into an agony of crying, while Mr.

Devereux was too much exhausted to address her; at last she exclaimed: 'I hear the nursery door; he is going!'

She flew to the door, and listened, and then called out, 'Emily, Jane, here is Cousin Robert!'

Jane came down, leaving Emily to finish hearing Mr. Saunders's directions. She was even more shocked at her cousin's looks than Phyllis had been, and though she tried to speak cheerfully, her manner scarcely agreed with her words. 'It is all well, Robert, I am sorry you have been so frightened. It is but a slight affair, though it looks so shocking. There is no danger. But, oh, Robert! you ought not to be here. What shall we do for you? you are quite knocked up.'

'Oh! no,' said Mr. Devereux, 'I am only a little out of breath. A terrible report came to me, and I set off to learn the truth. I should like to hear what Mr. Saunders says of her.'

'I will call him in here before he goes,' said Jane; 'how tired you are; you have not been out before.'

'Only to the gate to speak to Rotherwood yesterday, and prevent him from coming in,' said Mr. Devereux, 'but I have great designs for Sunday. They come home to-morrow, do not they?'