Chapter Forty.
A Sad Report.
The Cavalier let his head sink once more upon his pillow, and Fred went slowly away, to go and watch the flames rising and falling as the Hall burned rapidly, sending forth a glow of heat that could be felt far away.
And now that the hurry and excitement were at an end, Fred had time once more to think of those of whose fate he was still uncertain.
Just then a prisoner was being brought in, and he hurried to the spot, but only to turn away disappointed, to go and gaze once more at the burning pile, musing sadly on the times when he had passed such pleasant hours about the place which had been to him as a second home; and thinking, as he gazed through the open windows into the furnace within, of the various rooms where every object was so familiar—picture, ornament, carved cabinet, trophy—and now all turning to glowing embers.
“Seems a pity, Master Fred, don’t it?” said a voice at his elbow.
“You here, Samson?”
“Yes, sir; just come from round at the back.”
“Has the fire made its way there?”
“Oh, bless you, sir, it’s been creeping and rushing and leaping over everything! Even the big tool-house and fruit-room’s burned. Such a pity. Nice lot of tools all destroyed; and, not that I want to find fault, but a deal better set than we ever had at the Manor. Why, there was a barrow, sir, as run that light in your hands, no matter how you filled it, as made it a pleasure to work.”