The old man had gone to the window and swept the stiff curtain aside. He held it now with a trembling hand, so that Reuben could look out.
The whole southern sky overhanging Thessaly was crimson with the reflection of a fire.
“Great God! it’s the rolling mill,” ejaculated Reuben, breathlessly.
“Quite as likely it’s the Minster house; it’s the same direction, only farther off, and fires are deceptive,” said Gedney, his excitement rising under the stimulus of the spectacle.
Reuben had kicked off his slippers, and was now dragging on his shoes. “Tell me about it,” he said, working furiously at the laces.
’Squire Gedney helped himself generously to the brandy on the table as he unfolded, in somewhat incoherent fashion, his narrative. The Lawton girl had somehow found out that a hostile demonstration against the Minsters was intended for the evening, and had started out to find Tracy. By accident she had met him (Gedney), and they had come off in the sleigh together. She had insisted upon driving, and as his long journey from Cadmus had greatly fatigued him, he had got over into the back seat and gone to sleep under the buffalo robes. He knew nothing more until Ezra had roused him from his slumber in the sled, now at a standstill on the road outside, and he had awakened to discover Jessica gone, the horses wet and shivering in a cloud of steam, and the sky behind them all ablaze.
“Jee-Whitaker! Looks as if the whole town was burning,” said Ezra, coming in as this recital was concluded. “Them horses would a-got their death out there in another ten minutes. Guess I’d better put ’em in the barn, eh?”
“No, no! Just turn them around. I’ve got to drive them back faster than they came,” said Reuben, who had on his overcoat and hat. “Hurry, and get me some thick gloves to drive in. I’ll leave my things here. We won’t wake mother up. I’ll get you to run in to-morrow, if you will, and let me know how she is. Tell her I had to go.”
When Ezra had found the gloves and brought them, the two men for the first time bent an instinctive joint glance at the recumbent figure of the girl in the rocking-chair.
“I’ll get Hannah up,” said the farmer, “and she can have your room. I guess she’s too sick to try to go back with you. If she’s well enough, I’ll bring her in in the morning. I was going to take in some apples, anyway.”