She prayed and expostulated in vain; he cared little for their danger, so hardened was he by a selfish fear for himself. The fire was gaining ground quickly, for a brisk wind had sprung up, and the long-seasoned timber in the old walls burnt like touchwood. The servant lay insensible on the threshold of the master's chamber; and Miss Anne and Stephen looked out from a front casement upon the gathering crowd, who implored them, with frenzied earnestness, to throw open the door.
'Miss Anne,' cried Stephen, 'you can get through the pantry window; you are little enough. Oh, be quick, and let me see you safe!'
'I cannot,' she answered: 'not yet! Not till the last moment. I dare not leave my uncle and that poor girl. Oh, Stephen, if Martha would but come!'
She rested her head against the casement, sobbing, as though her grief could not be assuaged. Stephen felt heart-sick with his intense longing for the arrival of help from Longville, as he watched the progress of the fire; but at last, after what appeared ages of waiting, they heard a shout in the distance, and saw a little band of horsemen galloping up to the burning house.
'They are come from Longville, uncle,' cried Miss Anne. 'You must open now; there is not a moment to spare. The fire is gaining upon us fast.'
He had seen their approach himself, and now he opened the doors, and gave the keys to Miss Anne. He had collected all his papers and notes in one large bundle, which he had clasped in his arms; and as soon as the crowd swept in through the open doors, he cried aloud to the constable from Longville to come and guard him. There was very little time for saving anything out of the house, for before long the flames gathered such volume and strength as to drive every one out before them; and as Stephen stood beside the miserable old man, who was shivering in the bitter night wind, he beheld his dwelling destroyed as suddenly and entirely as the hut at Fern's Hollow had been.
CHAPTER XX.
STEPHEN'S TESTIMONY.
Mr. Wyley would not stir from the place where he could gaze upon his old home burning to the ground. He stood rooted to the spot, like one fascinated and enchained by a power he could not resist, grasping his precious bundle to his breast, and clinging firmly to the arm of the Longville doctor, who had been one of those who hastened to his rescue. Now and then he broke out into a deep cry, which he did not seem to hear himself; but even the grey dawn of the morning, brightening over the rounded outlines of the mountains, did not awaken him from his trance of terror and bewilderment. Miss Anne kept near to him all night, and Stephen lingered about her, making a seat for her upon the grass, and taking care that Martha also should be at hand to wait upon her. There was a great buzzing of people about them, hurrying to and fro; and every now and then they heard different conjectures as to how the fire began. But it was not, generally known that the constables from Longville and Botfield had contrived to arrest Black Thompson and Davies in the midst of the confusion, and had quietly taken them off to the jail at Longville. When the daylight grew strong, it shone upon a smouldering mass of ruins, and heaps of broken furniture piled upon the down-trodden grass. The master had grown aged in that one night, and he gazed helplessly about him, as if for some one to direct and guide him. He no longer refused to quit the place, only he would not trust himself anywhere near Botfield; and as soon as a carriage could be procured, he and Miss Anne were driven off to Longville. There was nothing more to wait for now; and Stephen went quietly home to breakfast in the cinder-hill cabin.