THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY.
True to his resolve, Dan left his camp after supper in order to assure
himself that Meg had arrived safely at home. As he mounted the hill he
heard confused shouts, and, on looking upward, beheld an unusual glow
in the sky. Filled with fresh alarm at these portents he increased his
pace, and was soon on the summit of the ridge overlooking Farbis. To
his astonishment he saw that the Court was in flames, and that the
shouts were those of the villagers hastening to extinguish the
conflagration. Only for a moment did he survey the unaccustomed scene,
then ran down to the village at top speed.
"Great heavens!" he thought, "can that woman have killed Meg, and set
fire to the place to conceal her crime?"
This seemed to be the true explanation to his agitated mind, the more
so as, in racing down the street, he ran against a man wringing his
hands, and crying aloud. It was Dr. Merle.
"Where is Meg? Is she safe?" demanded Dan, pausing a moment in his
headlong career.
"No, no!" wailed Merle, "she went to see Miss Linisfarne. She is
at----"
But Dan waited to hear no more. His worst forebodings appeared likely
to be realized; and, frantic with dread at the danger of Meg, he sped
on to the Court. He arrived in time to see the iron gates wrenched off
their hinges by the stalwart arms of the villagers, who afterwards
poured in through the gate. Carried along with the disorderly crowd up
the avenue, Dan found himself at the elbow of the vicar.
"Jarner, Jarner! Meg!"
"What of her?" asked the parson, with anxiety. "Is she not with her
father?"
"No! She went to the Court to see Miss Linisfarne."
"Great heavens!" muttered Jarner, in alarm. "Can it be that----"
"For God's sake, Jarner, don't suppose anything so horrible," burst
out Dan; "it is impossible. Meg must be safe."
"Safe in that!" said Jarner, pointing to the Court, at the back of
which red flames shot upward to the stars amid black clouds of smoke.
"If harm comes to her I'll kill Miss Linisfarne."
"I hope she has not killed herself! We must rescue both, if we can."
"But the fire--the fire! Cannot it be put out?" cried Dan, as they
mounted the terrace.
"There is no water."
Dan clenched his fists! It was horrible to think of the danger in
which Meg was placed. The few servants were gathered together on the
terrace, and the front door was wide open. In answer to the vicar's
questions they said that both Miss Linisfarne and Meg were in the
house. The housekeeper had seen them go towards the west wing. It was
that part of the house that was on fire.
"I must save her," said Dan, shaking himself free from Jarner's grasp;
"let me go."
He ran into the hall, and up the stairs. As he did so a huge form shot
past him, and he saw to his astonishment that it was Tim. The face of
the gipsy was quite pale, and he raced up the stairs with such
rapidity as even to distance Dan.
"Tim, Tim! Where is the west wing?"
"I know, rye! Follow me!"
The front of the house was quite safe, as the fire was confined to the
west wing, and they rapidly threaded a maze of corridors. Tim seemed
to know the way, and at length paused before a door. He tried to open
it, but found it locked.
"This leads to the west wing. They are in there. Help me to break it
down."
Without answer Dan threw himself against the door. Strong as he was it
would not yield to his efforts. They could hear the crackling of the
flames, and trembled to think of the two women shut up in that
furnace. Tim put his shoulder to the door, and Dan assisted with all
his strength. It cracked and yielded and fell back. With a shout they
prepared to rush in, but were driven back by the fierce flames. The
whole interior of the corridor was in fire, and the smoke rolled out
in blinding clouds. Tim dropped on his hands and knees, and crept
forward. Dan heard him shout.
"What is it, Tim?"
"Here is one! Miss Linisfarne--Laura!"
In the excitement of the moment Dan gave no attention to the utterance
of Miss Linisfarne's Christian name by the gipsy. He thought of
nothing but the girl he loved.
"Meg! Meg! Where is Meg?"
"I don't know," said Tim, who appeared at that instant, bearing in his
arms the inanimate body of Miss Linisfarne. "Let us take this one to a
place of safety."
"But Meg! Meg will be burnt to death!" cried Dan, and made a frantic
rush forward. The flames sent him back, and he was almost stifled by
the smoke. It was utterly impossible to pass that barrier of flame in
search of Meg.
At right angles to where he stood there was a window. As the passage
was full of smoke, Dan darted to this, and smashed the glass. As the
cold air rushed in he thought he heard a cry. Without considering what
he was doing, he clambered out on to the sill of the window, and saw
the whole length of the west wing stretching towards the hill. The
flames flared upward through the roof, but the side was as yet
untouched by the fire. It was as bright as day, and, clinging to the
ivy some distance along, Dan saw the figure of a woman.
"Meg! Meg!" he shouted. "Hold on! I am here!"
"Dan, save me!"
She had succeeded in wrenching the bars from the window of her cell,
and had managed with difficulty to thrust herself through the
aperture. The effort had exhausted her strength, and now she was
clinging helplessly to the thick ivy which matted the walls. Overjoyed
at the sight of her still alive, Dan shouted encouragement, and
reflected how he could assist her. There was no time for him to go
round by the front door, as the flames were already shooting from some
of the windows of the west wing, and at any moment the fire might
scorch Meg.
He looked down and saw that an oak grew so close to the house that a
good spring would land him in its topmost branches, which were but a
little below the level of the window on the sill of which he stood. If
he failed he would fall a considerable distance on to a flagged
pavement, and run the risk of breaking his neck. In his cooler moments
he might have hesitated to tempt such a catastrophe, but the thought
of Meg's peril steeled his nerves. Marking a great bough which would
bear his weight, he sprang from the window, and fortunately landed
among the branches of the tree. His head struck against the bough, and
he was almost stunned, but retained sufficient presence of mind to
grasp at whatever came within his reach.
After that effort all seemed like a dream. He heard Meg calling him
wildly, and, in some way, managed to scramble down the tree, though,
when he found himself on the ground, he could not explain how he got
there. His head felt giddy, and his clothes were torn to ribbons in
the fall. But there was no time to be lost, and he ran along the
flagged path to where he saw Meg, high above, clinging to the ivy. The
parasite formed a kind of natural ladder, but he dreaded to climb it,
lest he should grow giddy and fall. In desperation he looked around
for some means whereby to clear his head. A pool of stagnant water was
at hand, and, without a moment's hesitation, he dipped his head
therein. The shock of the cold water restored him to his normal
condition, and the next moment he was scrambling up the ivy. The whole
time, from his spring into the oak and his clambering up the side of
the house, was not more than five minutes.
He was just in time, for Meg's strength was rapidly giving way, and
hardly had he placed his disengaged arm round her waist than she
leaned half fainting on his breast with her whole weight. This threw
the strain on his right arm, and the ivy was almost torn from his
grasp. Fortunately, he had his feet firmly planted in the network
roots of the parasite, and so managed to hold firmly. Still, the
position was one of great peril, as the least false step would
precipitate both himself and his burden into the depths below.
"Meg, Meg!" he whispered vehemently, "clasp your arms round my neck
and hang on. I must have both hands free."
Mechanically she did as she was told, as the momentary fainting-fit
had passed, and she now comprehended what was to be done. Free to use
both hands, Dan gripped the ivy firmly, planted his feet carefully,
and, with the girl clinging to his neck, managed with great difficulty
to make the descent. They reached the ground in safety.
"Thank God!" said Meg, looking up at the blazing ruin from which she
had so miraculously escaped. "My own darling, how brave you are! But
Miss Linisfarne?"
"Tim saved her. Let us go round to the terrace and show them that you
are alive. How did you get into the west wing, Meg?"
"Miss Linisfarne took me there, under the pretext that she wanted to
show me the portrait of Sir Alurde. Oh, Dan, she has cut it to pieces
because it resembled you!"
"I know she hates me, Meg. I was fearful lest she should do you harm,
and it seems that my presentiment was right."
"She shut me up in the room, Dan, and then set fire to the place. The
window was barred, and I thought I was lost. Fortunately the bars were
old and rusty, so I was able to wrench them out and free myself. But
had you not come, I should have fallen."
"My brave girl! There are not many who would have had such presence of
mind, Meg. Miss Linisfarne is a fiend. Can you walk now?"
"Yes; I am much stronger. Let us go at once."
They hastened as quickly as possible round to the terrace, and found
Miss Linisfarne in the centre of the crowd. She was terribly burnt,
but conscious. The villagers welcomed Dan and Meg with cheers of
delight, and Jarner hastened forward. Before he could reach Meg,
however, Tim had passed him. With an ejaculation of thankfulness, he
seized the astonished girl in his arms and kissed her.
"Tim!" cried Dan, thoroughly enraged; "what right have you to----"
"The right of a father," said Tim, in a deep voice. "I am the husband
of yonder wretched woman, who tried to kill her own child."
Both Dan and Meg looked at Jarner for an explanation. They were taken
by surprise at Tim's speech, and could say nothing.
"It is true," said Jarner, taking Meg tenderly in his arms. "I did not
know it till now. Nor did Miss Linisfarne dream that you were her
child, Meg. Had she known, this terrible catastrophe would not have
taken place."
"Is she my mother?" faltered Meg; "but my father----"
"I am your father," said Tim, quietly. "Dr. Merle is only your
guardian. It is a long story, Meg. I acted for the best, but it has
turned out ill."
"Meg, my child!" cried a feeble voice.
"Come," said Dan, leading the girl towards the dying woman; "you must
see and forgive your mother."
Miss Linisfarne was dying. Her body was terribly burnt, and she was
lying on the terrace wrapped in a blanket. The villagers were all in
the house saving the furniture, so only those intimately concerned
were present. The shock had driven the insanity out of Miss
Linisfarne's brain, and she was now quite rational. As Meg knelt
beside her, she put out a feeble hand.
"Forgive!" she said faintly; "I was mad! I knew nothing, my child."
"Oh, mother, mother! why did you not tell me I was your child?"
"She did not know," said Tim, who was holding a cup of wine to the
lips of the woman he claimed as his wife. "I did not think her worthy
to know the truth, and so she never learned that it was her own
daughter she brought up."
"Cruel! cruel!" murmured Miss Linisfarne. "Would nothing less than
twenty years of misery satiate your revenge?"
"No," replied her husband, curtly.
"Do not reproach her," said Jarner, in a gentle tone. "Do you not see
she is dying? I have sent for Dr. Merle. Here he comes!"
"Merle!" said Tim, with a frown. "No, not Merle, but Mallard."
The feeble little doctor ran up to the group, and fell on his knees
beside Miss Linisfarne. She looked at him in amazement.
"Mallard!"
"Oh, Laura, Laura! After all these years!"
"Poor Richard!" murmured Miss Linisfarne. "I treated you badly; but I
have been punished. You can forgive me now?"
"I do! I do!--freely."
"And Meg?"
"I forgive you, mother, and I love you," said Meg, kissing her with
tears.
As she did so Miss Linisfarne's head fell back. She was dead.