The scene after this must be left to imagination. But the Squire reverently and fervently thanked God when the shrieks of those fire-imprisoned cattle were hushed in death, and nothing was to be heard save the crackle and roar of the flames.
The fire had lit up the countryside for miles around. The moonlight itself was bright, but within a certain radius the blazing farm cast shadows against it.
Next morning stackyards, barnyards, farm-steading, machinery-house, and everything pertaining to Burley Old Farm, presented but a smouldering, blackened heap of ruins.
Squire Broadbent entertained his poor, frightened people to an early breakfast in the servants' hall, and the most cheerful face there was that of the Squire. Here is his little speech:
"My good folks, sit down and eat; and let us be thankful we're all here, and that no human lives are lost. My good kinswoman Kate here will tell you that there never yet was an ill but there might be a worse. Let us pray the worse may never come."
CHAPTER X.
"AFTER ALL, IT DOESN'T TAKE MUCH TO MAKE
A MAN HAPPY."
For weeks to come neither Uncle Ramsay nor Walton had the heart to add another sorrow to the Squire's cup of misery. They knew that the fire had but brought on a little sooner a catastrophe which was already falling; they knew that Squire Broadbent was virtually a ruined man.
All the machinery had been rendered useless; the most of the cattle were dead; the stacks were gone; and yet, strange to say, the Squire hoped on. Those horses and cattle which had been saved were housed now in rudely-built sheds, among the fire-blackened ruins of their former wholesome stables and byres.
One day Branson, who had always been a confidential servant, sent Mary in to say he wished to speak to the Squire. His master came out at once.