"No matter," she cried angrily, as she sat nursing her wrath to keep it warm; "I am mistress here and Bernard Dane is old and feeble. It will not take long, now that Aunt Celia is dead and out of the way, to resume my old power over him. I must hold a tight rein, or my control will be diminished. No more of those people shall be allowed here. Beatrix must never show her face here again. She shall never enter these gates while I live!"
That night Beatrix retired earlier than usual. She had attended Celia's funeral and seen her laid to rest; then she had returned to Keith's side for a long and loving conversation. She had not been assigned any special task that night, and so it came to pass that she was able to retire early, and was soon in a sound sleep.
She was aroused from sleep by a strange sensation—a fear of approaching danger—a curious tightening about the muscles of the throat, as though breath was about to leave her. She sat up in bed and peered through the darkness, uttering a low cry of horror as she did so. The room was filled with dense smoke. The house was on fire!
With a sickening horror creeping slowly over her, the girl rose and hurriedly dressed herself. Then remembering the papers which Celia's dying hand had intrusted to her care, she removed the package from the wardrobe and hid it away in her bosom. She opened the door of her room. Smoke—fire! Great, fiery tongues of flame met her on every side. Choking, gasping for breath, she turned in the direction of Keith's chamber, which was situated at the furthest end of the hall from her own. Could she save him? His strength had not altogether returned to him. Would he be able to make his escape, even with her help?
"Then I will perish with him!" she murmured, desperately. "Heaven help me! Heavenly Father, have mercy, and direct me!"
Shouting wildly with all her strength the one word "Fire!" she fought her way through the smoke and flame down the long hall, and paused at last before the door of Keith's chamber.
[CHAPTER XXXIV.]
A MARTYR.