Ellice would sometimes begin her tantrums (they could be called nothing else), and suddenly remember—yes, remember—with a pang of remorse for her defection, God's own word, "Better is he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." In an instant she would rush away to the window, and, clenching her hands tight, and fixing her eyes upon the sky, she would send a cry from her heart to the Throne for victory. It was a silent cry.
Margaret guessed the greatness of the fight as she watched the little girl's battling for control, her figure tense with emotion. But God, Who reads the secrets of every heart, heard the unbreathed words, "You—you Who love me, now while I am bad, help me not to say the nasty words, and to conquer"; a child's prayer, but how precious! Slowly but surely her character was strengthened, and the sweetness of disposition predominated over the wilful selfishness which had formerly held full sway.
It was at this period of her life that something occurred to break up the quiet serenity of Oaklands. The place was very isolated. The parish boasted a tiny church, one of the very smallest in England, standing on the edge of the woods, and encircled by about a dozen cottages, the older inhabitants of which had never left their native hills or seen the railway. A state of things marvellous indeed in this century of movement, but none the less true. Oaklands was the only house of any standing in the neighbourhood.
The vicar of Steynham came once on Sunday and held a service in the church; beyond that, visitors rarely found their way to this little old-world hamlet, where Time had swept away most of the traces of a former civilisation which in past days had dwelt in the vicinity of the great forest. Nothing but a waterless moat and a ruined wall remained to mark the spot where a bishop's palace had once been. The Elizabethan residence bearing its name Oaklands, redolent of the forest district in which it stood, was quaint and picturesque. Its leaded windows, gables, and oak-panelled frontage, with massive beams running across the ceilings of the rooms, and handsome wainscotings to the walls, gave it a quaint, old-world air.
The farm was such a poor one, that when the last tenant had died, the place had remained empty and out of repair for a long time, and it was through an advertisement that the Medhursts had first heard of it and had decided, in their search for a home far from the madding crowd, to do it up and live there in strict retirement.
* * * * *
Margaret awoke one morning to a sense of oppression which at first seemed to cloud all her faculties. A great lethargy pervaded her whole being; then an unpleasant difficulty in breathing caused her to struggle, and she awoke. Panting with the effort, she became conscious of a suffocating sense of smoke choking her mouth and nostrils. Margaret Woodford was always resourceful, and as the fact impressed itself upon her mind that there was danger and difficulty, with an almost superhuman effort she roused herself sufficiently to slide out of bed and stagger to the door. As she opened it, she was met by an increased density of smoke which, with the draught from the staircase window, poured into her apartment. But a rush of sweet fresh air from a landing window revived her, and, crossing to Mr. Medhurst's room, she rapped at the door, saying in a low voice, "Can I speak to you, please?" Quietly he responded, but as he opened the door her news was understood instantly.
"I will fetch Ellice, and call Betsy," Margaret said, and, without waiting for any answer, she entered Ellice's room and, speaking reassuringly to her, picked her up in her strong young arms and carried her out on to the landing and down the stairs to the drawing-room, which seemed free from all taint of fire.
"Stay there; don't move, child—I shall be back in a moment." With this she ran again up the smoke-laden staircase to the second landing and Betsy's apartment.
Mr. Medhurst meanwhile was experiencing difficulty in arousing his wife; he knew her heart was not strong, and was anxious not to alarm her more than was necessary.