Pale and horror-stricken, Mary hastened to obey the summons. She found her cousin with her sofa pushed towards the window, gazing in strong excitement on the red glare, now again plainly visible in the distance, and so fearfully accounted for.
"Gracious heavens, Mary, is not this terrible! the poor old place. Eugene has gone off distracted, not knowing whether he will find the whole house consumed; as for the wretched old man, God only knows what has become of him! it did not seem that the messenger brought any sure tidings of his safety. How dreadful if he were to perish in the flames!"
"Dreadful, indeed!" murmured Mary; but she was no match for her cousin's volubility. She sank down shivering by her side, her eyes fixed in appalled bewilderment on the awful sign written in the heavens—sign, as it were, of the judgment and fiery indignation which is to devour the adversary.
They sat there long intent upon the anxious watch, though little was to be gleaned from that flickering and unconstant glare, now deepening, now dying into comparative darkness, but that the fire was still in existence.
Mrs. de Burgh had ordered some of her servants to follow Eugene, and render any assistance in their power; one was to return immediately with intelligence. In the meantime she entreated Mary not to leave her, a petition which poor Mary, in her present state of mind, was not inclined to resist.
Coffee was brought up to revive their strength and spirits, during the two hours which at least must elapse before the messenger could arrive, and wrapping Mary in a warm shawl, the weary interval of suspense passed away as quickly as could be expected. It was over at last. The servant returned. Mrs. de Burgh had him up to the dressing-room to hear the account from his own lips.
In a few words the man related, that one entire wing of the house had been past recovery when the party arrived from Silverton, or before any effectual assistance could be procured. It was the wing containing the private library of Mr. Trevor; there it was supposed the fire had broken out and made some way before discovered by the household.
The catastrophe was supposed to have originated in some way from Mr. Trevor, as he was missing in his own apartment; and it was feared that he had perished in the flames, as he had been known to have some nights before crept stealthily from his bed-room to the study. It did not appear that any of the servants had been sufficiently courageous to attempt his rescue, and of course now all hope of saving the unfortunate old man was at an end, the flames having communicated with the adjoining passages before the alarm was given, though even then Mr. Eugene Trevor had seemed almost inclined to pierce the flames in that direction, so great was his horror at the intelligence.
Mrs. de Burgh at this awful communication fell into a fit of hysterical weeping, whilst Mary, pale as death, speechless, tearless with emotion, sat with her eyes raised and her hands clasped together. "Thoughts too deep for tears" stirred up within her breast—thoughts of death, judgment, and eternity.
How terrible indeed the retribution which had fallen upon the head of that sinful old man. How mighty and terrible the hand which might be said to have taken up the cause of the oppressed, and stopped the way of the ungodly!