They reached the Hall, but only to find that the flames were literally rushing out of the great dining-room door, on the one side, and running up the panelled walls, setting the beautiful ceiling ablaze, while from the library, on the other, there was a furnace-like roar, as the flames literally charged up the oaken staircase, whose balusters were already glowing, and the gallery and corridor were fast flaring up as the fire licked and darted and played about.
“You see,” said the general, as he seized the colonel’s arm again, “if we had ample water and the proper means, we could do nothing.”
Colonel Forrester groaned as he saw the fire darting up the panels, the carved beams of fine old oak already well alight, and the various familiar objects falling victims to the flames. Even as he gazed, with the cool air of evening rushing in behind them through the porch, and wafting the clouds of smoke upward to pass rapidly along the corridor as if it were some large horizontal chimney, he saw the canvases of the old family paintings heave and crumple up, while the faces of Sir Godfrey’s ancestors seemed to Fred to be gazing fiercely through the lurid light, and reproaching him for helping to desolate their home.
Frames, panelling, the oaken gallery rails, blazed up as if they had been of resin in the tremendous heat; the stained-glass in the various windows crackled, flew, and fell tinkling down.
“Well,” said the general, quietly, “you see, the place was fired in two places. We can do nothing?”
“No,” groaned Colonel Forrester, as he looked wildly round. Then, in a despairing tone, as he gripped his son’s arm, “Fred, is there nothing we can save?”
As he spoke, a great burning fragment of the gallery balustrade fell with a crash on to the oaken floor, the embers scattering in all directions, the gallery floor rose in the intense heat, as if a wave were passing through it, and as all backed involuntarily toward the door, one of the suits of armour fell forward with a crash.
“It would be utter madness,” said General Hedley. “At least here. We could not have stayed a minute but for the cool air rushing in behind. If you wish to try and save anything, we must break in through the windows from outside.”
The argument was unanswerable; and after a last wild gaze round, the little party gave way step by step, and were literally driven out by the tremendous heat, Fred’s last look back being at the splendid staircase, now one raging mass of fire, which was spreading upward with terrific speed.
As they stood outside once more, the dense clouds of smoke were pouring through the upper windows, and directly after, from the broad casement above the porch, where Fred had held converse with the Cavaliers in his character of ambassador, a great billowy wave of lurid smoky flame lapped and flapped like a fiery banner, and then floated upward into the soft cool air.