A sound of bells; a long alarm of which she lost the count; a great explosion. Then that horrible cataract of flame and sparks overhanging the stars as it did before, and paling them out.
It seemed as if it had always been so; as if there had never been a still, dark heaven under which to lie down tranquilly and sleep.
"The wind has changed, and the fire is awful, and I can't help it," sounded Miss Smalley's voice, meek and deprecating, through the keyhole, at which she had listened till she had heard Bel moving.
Bel lit the gas, and then went out into the passage.
Flakes of fire were coming down over the roofs into the Place itself.
The great rush and blaze were all this way, now. They were right under the storm of it.
Aunt Blin woke up.
"What is it?" she asked, excitedly. "Is it begun again? Is it coming?" And before Bel could stop her, she was out on the entry floor with her bare feet.
A floating cinder fell and struck the sash.
"We must be dressed! We must pack up! Make haste, Bel! Where's Bartholomew?"