THE FIRE
THOROUGHLY wide awake now, Melina jumped out of bed and rushed to the
door. It was closed, and, as she opened it, she was met by a volume
of smoke ascending the stairway: evidently the fire was downstairs.
The smoke almost blinded and choked her; nevertheless she called
"Gran! Gran!" as loud as ever she could, and made her way into her
grandmother's room, which was over the parlour. It did not surprise
her to receive no answer, for she knew Mrs. Berryman was always a
heavy sleeper, more especially when she was the worse for drink; so,
going at once to the bed, she put out her hands, intending to shake
the old woman and thus awaken her, but to her dismay she found the bed
unoccupied. It took her but a few minutes after that to ascertain that
her grandmother was not in the room at all.
In a panic of fear Melina now rushed out on the landing, meaning to
go downstairs in search of Mrs. Berryman, but she found it was quite
impossible to do that, for the smoke was momentarily growing denser
and great tongues of flame were shooting up the stairway; so she went
into her bedroom and hastily dressed herself, then returned to her
grandmother's room, where the smoke was rather less thick than in her
own, and made her way to the window, which she opened wide, calling
loudly as she did so, "Help! Help!"
To her great joy she had an answer at once, a voice in the street,
which she recognised as a neighbour's, shouting back:
"All right! Keep by the window, and we'll get you out in a few minutes.
Some one's gone for a ladder, and we've sent for the fire-engine."
"Where's Gran?" demanded Melina.
"Mrs. Berryman?" said the same voice; "isn't she up there with you?"
"No," the little girl replied, "and I can't find her! I think she must
be downstairs."
There was a murmur of consternation from below, and, leaning out of the
window, Melina saw, by the light of the street lamp, that a small crowd
had congregated, amongst whom she thought she recognised Mrs. Jones.
"Is that you, Mrs. Jones?" she called.
"Yes," came back the response; "keep up your heart, Melina! Please God
the ladder will soon be here!"
"The smoke's stifling me!" cried Melina in accents of terror; "the
room's full of it!"
"They—my husband and some others—are breaking into the house from the
back. Ah, here comes the ladder, and—yes, the fire-engine at last!"
Two minutes later, just as the fire-engine arrived on the scene, a
ladder was placed against the window, and Melina, with assistance,
descended it in safety. Mrs. Jones caught her in her arms as she
reached the ground; and the little girl, who was feeling sick and
dizzy, was glad to lean against her for support.
"Thank God, you're safe," Mrs. Jones said. Then, before she could add
any more, William rushed up to them, crying excitedly:
"They've found her!—they've found Mrs. Berryman! She's awfully injured,
and they've taken her to the hospital! She was lying at the foot of the
stairs, and—"
"Now then, out of the way there!" broke in one of the firemen; "what
are you thinking of, standing about in the way like this?"
"Let us go!" cried Melina; "oh, I don't know where we can go!" She was
quite unnerved, and trembling in every limb.
"You aren't hurt, are you, Melina?" questioned William.
"No, but I feel so—so, and I can't see properly."
She put her hands to her eyes, which were smarting from the smoke; her
strength was failing her, and but for the support of Mrs. Jones she
would have fallen.
"She's ill, mother," she heard William say. His voice sounded a long,
long distance away, and after that consciousness left her altogether.
When Melina regained her senses she found herself lying on the sofa
in Mrs. Jones' parlour, Mrs. Jones standing by her side bathing her
forehead with cold water. She struggled into a sitting position, and
began to ask questions at once. How did she come there? Had the fire
been put out? Where was her grandmother?
"You fainted," Mrs. Jones explained, "as a result of fright and having
been nearly smothered with smoke, I expect, and some one helped me
to carry you in here. The firemen think they'll be able to prevent
the fire spreading to the other cottages if they can keep it from
reaching the roof; they've got the better of it already. As to your
grandmother—well, you heard William say that she's hurt; she's in the
hospital by this time, and she'll get every attention there. Take my
advice and lie where you are for a bit; if you'll promise to do that
I'll go to the door and inquire what's become of my husband."
"Very well," Melina agreed; "only please don't be very long. Why, it's
nearly daylight! Oh I'm glad of that!"
Mrs. Jones hurried away, and a few minutes later Melina heard her
talking to some one in the passage.
"Yes, that's a very good idea of yours," the little girl heard her say;
"she'd be better away from here—out of all the excitement."
"Then I'll take her back with me now," was the response, spoken in a
voice which the listener recognised.
An instant later Mrs. Jones reappeared in company with Agnes Brown's
father. He had been to the railway station to book the passengers
for an early morning train, and had there been told of the fire in
Jubilee Terrace, and had come to have a look at it before returning to
Gladstone Street to breakfast.
"I want you to come home with me, my dear," he said to Melina; "your
kind neighbour, here, thinks with me that you'd better come. What do
you say?"
"Oh yes, yes!" Melina cried. She rose from the sofa as she spoke; then
a sudden thought struck her, and she said hesitatingly: "I wish I knew
more about Gran—perhaps I ought to go to the hospital myself to find
out—"
"No," interposed Mrs. Jones decidedly, "not without you are sent for.
Go with Mr. Brown like a good girl; I am sure you ought."
After that, Melina very thankfully accompanied Mr. Brown to his home.
Thus it came about that the Browns had an unexpected visitor to their
early breakfast that morning. They made Melina sit down with them at
the table, and though she had previously declared herself not hungry,
she drank some coffee and ate some bread and butter. Mrs. Brown was
rather silent during the meal, as was her husband, both fearing that
Mrs. Berryman's condition must be very serious; but Agnes and the boys
kept up the conversation, asking Melina numerous questions.
"I think you must have been most frightened when you found that the
stairs were on fire," remarked Agnes; "oh, weren't you dreadfully
scared?"
"Yes," assented Melina. "I was afraid I should be burnt alive; I did
not think anyone would be about, and I did not know what the time
was—that it was so near daybreak."
"Who first found out about the fire?" asked Agnes.
"An engine-driver who goes on duty at five in the morning," replied Mr.
Brown; "he was passing Mrs. Berryman's back door when he saw that the
scullery was full of smoke and flames, and gave the alarm immediately."
"It was terrible waiting at the window before the ladder came," Melina
said, shuddering; "the smoke was getting thicker and thicker. I tried
to pray, but I couldn't—not properly. I didn't seem able to think." She
appeared very troubled.
"Many a prayer has never been put into words, my dear; God reads our
hearts, you know. Prayer is the uplifting of the heart to God."
It was Mrs. Brown who said this. Melina looked at her eagerly; then
exclaimed, with a brightening face and in a tone of relief:
"Oh yes! Then I am sure I prayed in my heart!"
After breakfast, when Mr. Brown had gone to the railway station again,
accompanied by the boys, who intended to go on to the scene of the
fire, Mr. Jones arrived and had an interview with Mrs. Brown. He did
not stay long; and directly he had taken his departure, Mrs. Brown went
upstairs to Melina, who was with Agnes in the latter's bedroom.
"Your neighbour, Mr. Jones, has been here, Melina," she began gravely;
"he desired me to tell you that your grandmother has been severely
burnt about the body and is suffering from shock; you see, she is a
very old woman—"
"Oh, is she going to die?" gasped Melina.
There had been a time, not long since, when the thought of her
grandmother's death would not have moved her in the least; but now she
was deeply agitated. God's love had softened her heart, and she burst
into tears.
"Oh, how dreadful if she should die!" she sobbed, as Mrs. Brown
hesitated to reply; "why, only last night she was drunk! Oh, she is not
fit to die—poor Gran!"
Agnes put her arms around her friend and tried to comfort her, and by
and by Melina regained her composure. Then Mrs. Brown spoke again. "I
have something more to tell you, Melina," she said,—"something that
will be a great surprise for you. Your father has returned."
"My father has returned! Oh, are you sure? Yes, yes, I see you are! Oh,
where is he? When did he come?"
"He arrived at Hawstock last night, and went straight to his mother's.
It was rather late and Mrs. Berryman would not go to the door to him;
she did not guess who he was, I suppose—he had not written to say he
was coming—"
"Oh," broke in Melina, "was that my father? Why, I saw him—he spoke to
Mr. Jones!"
"So Mr. Jones told me. Mr. Jones did not recognise him then, but he has
since done so. It seems that your father slept at an hotel last night,
and this morning the first news he heard was of the fire. On learning
who it was that had been injured he went to the hospital to see his
mother. He saw her; she was conscious and knew him; I believe he is
with her now."
"Oh! And Mr. Jones has seen him this morning?" questioned Melina.
"Yes, for a few minutes at the hospital."
"I wonder when I shall see him," Melina said wistfully; "I have so
hoped and longed for him to come. And oh, I do wonder what he is like!"
she added with an anxious sigh, whilst the expression of her face told
of her conflicting feelings.
Before Mrs. Brown had time to reply there was a knock at the front
door, and she went downstairs to answer it. She returned almost
immediately, her countenance even graver than it had been before.
"Melina, Mr. Blackmore has come to take you to your grandmother," she
said; "she has asked for you. You must go at once."
The little girl, trembling with agitation, hastened to obey. She had
come to Gladstone Street without a hat, but Agnes now lent her one,
and, having put it on, she hurried downstairs, where she found Mr.
Blackmore. He took her hand without a word, and led her to a cab which
was waiting outside the door.
"Get in, Melina," he said.
She did so, and he followed her, seating himself opposite to her. Then
the cab drove off.
"Is Gran dying?" she asked in an awed voice; "please tell me."
"She cannot live out the day," he replied. He paused for a minute,
then went on: "She expressed a wish to see me; I was sent for, and, of
course, went to her at once. We had a little talk together—"
"Oh, sir," broke in Melina, "is she very frightened?"
"No, not now. God has been very merciful to her; He has given her time
to repent—now, at the eleventh hour. Like the dying thief on the cross,
she has turned to Jesus when this world is passing—she has gone to Him
at last."
"Gran has gone to Him! Do you mean—"
Melina broke off abruptly, for the cab had stopped before the hospital.
The little gentleman opened the door and stepped out on the pavement,
then assisted his companion to alight, and together they passed through
the entrance of the great building into the vestibule beyond.
At that minute a door at one side of the vestibule opened, and a
grey-haired, middle-aged nurse, who Melina subsequently learnt was
the matron, appeared in company with a tall man, whose dark bearded
countenance looked very grave and sad. The nurse glanced quickly from
the little girl to Mr. Blackmore, then addressed the latter.
"It is all over, Mr. Blackmore," she said; she collapsed quite suddenly
after you left, and never spoke again. "My dear," she added, turning to
Melina, "do you understand? Your poor grandmother is dead."
Melina had never loved her grandmother—it had been impossible for
her to do so. Nevertheless she felt deeply shocked, and, being in an
overwrought condition, she burst again into tears; whereupon the tall
man stepped forward quickly; and, folding her in his arms, covered her
face with kisses.
"Oh," gasped Melina, "are you—yes, you must be my father!" She was
quite sure no one but her father would kiss her like that. "Oh, father,
why didn't you come before?"
"I wish I had," he answered brokenly; "oh, I wish I had!"