lgarity personified,) scolded away her
hysterics, and kept guard over her, while she packed up her lady's
jewels and wardrobe, not until then allowing her the luxury of shrieking
at every jet of flame. The other servants and the villagers had worked
with hearty goodwill below stairs; and when Theodora had time to look
around, the pleasure-ground presented a strange scene. Among the trodden
plants and shrubs lay heaps of furniture, sofas, chairs lying tumbled
here and there, with plate, pictures, statues, ornaments heaped in wild
confusion, crowds of people, in every variety of strange dishabille,
gathered round; two long lines of them handing bucket after bucket,
with machine-like regularity, from the fountain; others removing the
furniture from the terrace; cushions, ormolu, fine china, handed out of
the lower windows; the whole seen by the wild lurid light that flashed
from the windows above, strangely illuminating the quiet green trees,
and bringing out every tiny leaf and spray by its fierce brilliancy,
that confused every accustomed shadow, while the clouds of smoke rolled
down as if to wither all around.

And above the rushing roaring sound! the thunder of falling ceilings;
the red light within some familiar windows; the gray sky reflected in
others, till, after a few uncertain flickers, the glow awoke in them
also. Then arose the whiter gusts of vapour, when water, hissing and
boiling, contended with fire.

In vain! the flame surmounted! Shouts, cries! Lord Martindale pushing
nearer, calling to all for heaven's sake to come out, leave all, only
come out; men rushing from the doors, leaping from the lower windows;
one dark figure emerging at the moment before a tremendous crash shook
the earth beneath their feet; the fire seemed for a moment crushed out,
then clouds of smoke rose wilder and denser, yellowed by the light of
the morning; the blaze rushed upwards uncontrolled, and the intensity of
brightness, behind and above the walls, glared on the mass of awe-struck
faces. There was not a movement, not a word, not a sound, save that of
the roaring flame.

The first voice was Lord Martindale's: 'Are all out? Is every one safe?'

'Yes, my lord, all but the claret of 1826,' said that last to escape,
half-clad, grimy, and singed, only in courteous voice, the butler.

'Thank God!' said Lord Martindale, fervently. 'And, Simmonds, thank you
for what you have done to-night;' and he heartily shook the butler's
hand.