“Ah, if that was playing!”
CHAPTER VIII. A Tale of a Political Difference
Mr. Carewe was already at the breakfast-table, but the light of his countenance, hidden behind the Rouen Journal, was not vouchsafed to his daughter when she took her place opposite him, nor did he see fit to return her morning greeting, from which she generously concluded that the burning of the two warehouses had meant a severe loss to him.
“I am so sorry, father,” she said gently. (She had not called him “papa” since the morning after her ball.) “I hope it isn't to be a great trouble to you.” There was no response, and, after waiting for some time, she spoke again, rather tremulously, yet not timidly: “Father?”
He rose, and upon his brow were marked the blackest lines of anger she had ever seen, so that she leaned back from him, startled; but he threw down the open paper before her on the table, and struck it with his clenched fist.
“Read that!” he said. And he stood over her while she read.
There were some grandiloquent headlines: “Miss Elizabeth Carewe an Angel of Mercy! Charming Belle Saves the Lives of Five Prominent Citizens! Her Presence of Mind Prevents Conflagration from Wiping Out the City!” It may be noted that Will Cummings, editor and proprietor of the Journal, had written these tributes, as well as the whole account of the evening's transactions, and Miss Betty loomed as large in Will's narrative as in his good and lovelorn heart. There was very little concerning the fire in the Journal; it was nearly all about Betty. That is one of the misfortunes which pursue a lady who allows an editor to fall in love with her.
However, there was a scant mention of the arrival of the Volunteers “upon the scene” (though none at all at the cause of their delay) and an elo-quent paragraph was devoted to their handsome appearance, Mr. Cummings having been one of those who insisted that the new uniforms should be worn. “Soon,” said the Journal, “through the daring of the Chief of the Department, and the Captain of the Hook-and-Ladder Company, one of whom placed and mounted the grappling-ladder, over which he was immediately followed by the other carrying the hose, a stream was sent to play upon the devouring element, a feat of derring-do personally witnessed by a majority of our readers. Mr. Vanrevel and Mr. Gray were joined by Eugene Madrillon, Tappingham Marsh, and the editor of this paper, after which occurred the unfortunate accident to the long ladder, leaving the five named gentlemen in their terrible predicament, face to face with death in its most awful form. At this frightful moment “—and all the rest was about Miss Carewe.
As Will himself admitted, he had “laid himself out on that description.” One paragraph was composed of short sentences, each beginning with the word “alone.” “Alone she entered the shattered door! Alone she set foot upon the first flight of stairs! Alone she ascended the second! Alone she mounted the third. Alone she lifted her hand to the trap! Alone she opened it!” She was declared to have made her appearance to the unfortunate prisoners on the roof, even as “the palm-laden dove to the despairing Noah,” and Will also asserted repeatedly that she was the “Heroine of the Hour.”